Shannon (6 page)

Nothing. Not a single inquiry had managed to come up with any information on the mysterious Shay, or whatever her real name was. Leaning against the wall in the back of the warehouse office, he watched Shay interrogate the guys who’d been working at the largest arsenal under his control. She’d already helped him close two smaller ones, leaving this one, and one other in which weapons of every type were stored. Proficiently. Like she knew what the fuck she was doing. Not once had he had to tell her what each firearm was—she knew at first glance. She also knew who was probably working with Paddy, separating the ones who Shannon suspected were selling to street punks who didn’t know their ass from a hole in the ground or worse, fuckers who had no business running around the neighborhood armed.

And Mickey—the fucker was hovering behind her like her fucking shadow. Which on one hand, he liked because no one would dare try to fuck with her, but on the other… Fuck, he just couldn’t put that shit into words. Any man too close to her just pissed him off. Not being inside her pissed him off. Not knowing who or what she was hiding from pissed him off. And she was hiding. It was the only thing that made sense.

“So you’re saying the shipment of AKs was short a case?” Shay blinked up at the poor slob who was going to be on the list for Fionn to dispose of.

Davie Byrne, not much older than Shannon or any of his brothers. Davie thought his shit didn’t stink because his father was in good with Paddy. Poor bastard had another think coming.

“That’s right,
sweetheart
,” Davie sneered back, licking his lips obscenely as he pointedly stared at her breasts before sending a knowing look back at Shannon. “Your trained monkey seems to have a problem understanding plain English, O’Shea. Maybe you care to share her with some guys who can teach her a thing or two?”

There was no thought, no debate. Shannon was off the wall, over the desk with Davie’s throat in his grip before anyone else could move. Mickey, God bless him, shot to the door, barring anyone waiting outside from coming in. But everyone out there could see what he was doing; the office had a glass door and walls in the front.

“You don’t want to do this, O’Shea,” Davie was stupid enough to gasp around Shannon’s ever-increasing grip. “The old man wouldn’t be happy with ya.”

Shannon smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant smile. Suddenly he let go, stepping back as Davie crumbled to the ground. A quick death was too merciful. He wasn’t in the mood to be merciful.

“Glad to see you come to your senses.” Davie coughed, slowly climbing to his knees. “Though I don’t think your da will be pleased with you defending a—UFF!”

Shannon’s steel-toed boot connected with deadly accuracy with the man’s ribs, causing him to slam face first into the concrete floor.

“Get up.” He wasn’t done with Davie. Not by a long shot.

“Come on, man!” Davie whined, putting one hand up as if to ward him off. “You can’t be serious over—”

The sound of Davie’s nose crunching under Shannon’s fist reverberated through the warehouse. There was no other sound, no other movement.

“Get the fuck up,” Shannon ordered once more, his voice deadly calm. Inside he was raging. Anger turned the blood in his veins to molten lava. He needed to kill, he was going to kill, but he wanted everyone there to see and remember what he was about to do.

Being an O’Shea had made him used to the whispers, the side looks, the distrust. It didn’t matter what was said about him to his face or otherwise. But this son of a bitch had insulted what was his. That would not stand.

Acknowledgement flickered in Davie’s eyes, that look a man got knowing he was done.

“Please, Shannon, you have to think about this. Nothing good can come of this.”

The stench of piss suddenly rose from where the blubbering man half sat, half lay on the ground, making no move to get up. Fucking pussy. A man who depended on the reputation of Shannon’s father was no man at all, as Davie was fast learning. Even if Shannon decided to let him live, Davie would never live this down. No one would trust him—no one would deal with him. He was no longer a man in the eyes of those who stood watching.

Lifting his foot once more, Shannon slammed it head-on into Davie’s face, then twisted the sole into the man’s chest while placing his full weight on the bone. He could feel the bones crunch beneath his foot, saw Davie’s eyes go wide with pain, but it wasn’t enough. Making a show of wiping the blood off the expensive leather of his footwear, he bent to seize Davie by the front of his shirt, then slammed his fist into his face repeatedly until it was just as red mash of what used to be skin. Dropping him to the floor again, he stomped the prone figure a few times to emphasize his point, before standing calmly and walking over to place himself directly behind Shay.

Mickey immediately slung the shell that once was Davie over his shoulder and made his way out of the office.

Efficiency. Shannon like that shit.

Without missing a beat, Shay calmly called, “Tom Kelly? You’re next.”

Fuck, that was hot. No hysterics, no jumpiness, just straight back to business.

He was keeping her.

***

Shannon O’Shea was downright confusing. What the hell was she supposed to be to him? Girlfriend was an immediate hell no; men like Shannon didn’t have those. Every night she shared his bed at one of the brothels; seemed he had a semi-apartment in each of them. Every day she was by his side, assisting him in the day-to-day of whatever the fuck he had to do. For three weeks she’d been by his side every minute of the day and night with no discussion as to what exactly her position was. She helped him with his books, did most of the interviewing not only for the cat houses, but every aspect of his business, helping him to weed out snitches, thieves and degenerates. Occasionally they’d stumble across a true idiot, which was a relief because at least they got to live. She hadn’t witnessed Shannon killing anyone with the exception of the unfortunate son of bitch who’d called her a monkey, but she had heard him on the phone with his brother Fionn, arranging for the departure of many a poor soul from this earth.

This was so not good. She knew way too much, yet she didn’t know enough. Too much knowledge of the illegal O’Shea dealings, no idea where she could go from here. There had been no pay, but the only man she had been with was him. Even though he pretty much pushed her in front, using her as his spokesperson more or less. There was no way she could save up enough to take care of those who had betrayed her brother then get the hell away from Massachusetts. There was no way she could get away from Shannon. Not only was he always right there, but Mickey Mountain was always hovering nearby.

Honestly, though, she’d grown fond of Mickey. He might not talk much, but he had a way of making her feel like she was someone important. Like she used to feel walking around with her brother. Something about his demeanor around her made others treat her with respect as well. But between the two men, Shay was more trapped now than she had been before responding to that damn ad for “models.”

The bitch of it was, she was beginning to get far too comfortable right where she was. As ambiguous as her position was, she couldn’t say she wasn’t content. That was something she couldn’t afford to be. Time and time again she found herself wanting to blab everything to Shannon, to trust him with her truth. That right there told her she needed to haul ass. Maybe she should leave the state with what little she had and plan to get back at Jean Paul. Let Junior try to run what Jesse had built. No one man had managed to control Mattapan before her brother; no one could do that after him. Especially not a cop. But Jean-Paul—he deserved hell on earth before she killed him. She couldn’t do any of that here.

So why didn’t she run? She shouldn’t like being trapped, but damned if she didn’t. Maybe because it was easier; having the choice taken away from her meant she never needed to make a decision. But that was bullshit and she knew it. If she wanted to go, she probably could find a way to slip away. Thing was, she wasn’t really looking very hard.

Sitting in the back of a luxury SUV, Shay studied the planes of Shannon’s face as he stared broodingly out of the window. He really was gorgeous in a fallen-angel kind of way. The red in his auburn hair blazed even in the dark, his green eyes burning every bit as bright. The way he set his chiseled jaw when he was deep in thought was sexy as hell. But something was riding him tonight. As much as all her fucked-up thoughts were riding her.

“Why don’t you ask what you want to know?” Shannon surprised by asking without looking at her.

Asking what was wrong was such a girlfriend move. She was not his girlfriend. So what was she?

“What are you going to do with me?” she asked instead. “What am I? Because I came to you to make money. I don’t know what I am doing here. I’m certainly not making any money.”

Truth. Partially anyway.

A tic appeared in his jawline, but he didn’t turn to look at her. Maybe she shouldn’t have asked, but shit, she had to move one way or another. Living under a false sense of security did her no good. If he threw her out, he threw her out. But then, she knew too much, didn’t she? Fuck, fuck, fuck—maybe she hadn’t quite thought this through.

“Is there somewhere you want to go, Shay?”

That question was asked way too calmly for her peace of mind.

“Eventually,” she answered honestly. Lying to Shannon wasn’t a great idea. She’d seen what he did to those who lied to him.

“You don’t like being with me?” The question was asked in a way that was almost musing. Shay wasn’t sure what to do with that.

“That is irrelevant.” She didn’t mean to snap, but shit, cat-and-mouse games were not her thing. “I need to make money. Obviously I have plans. Playing house isn’t going to get me any closer to my goals.”

“Which are what exactly?” Now he did turn to her. The full force of his stare knocked the breath from her lungs. “Who are you really, Shay? What is it you need to save money for? Where do you need to go?
Who the fuck are you
?”

It hurt to draw in air. The intensity of his gaze seared down to her very soul. What did this man want from her?

“I am Shay.” He must never know how true that statement was. But Lord knows she struggled not to tell him everything. For just one brief moment, she felt if she told him, he would help her. That he would make it better, assist her in avenging her brother.

“Then you will stay right where you are, as you are.”

And that was it. They drove on into the night, not another word spoken. But Shay had the feeling she was in for something more. She just didn’t know if she would be able to handle it.

He needed pain. Needed to fight. Something, anything to stop the rioting emotions that swirled around inside him.

“The docks,” he tersely spat out at Mickey, who was driving tonight.

So far nothing he threw at Shay, or whoever she really was, fazed her. So he knew she once belonged to someone powerful—girlfriend, wife, daughter, something—she was connected. What she failed to realize was she was never going back. Nor was she leaving him. Not now, not ever.

He hadn’t understood his feelings—still didn’t—but this woman had become such an integral part of himself he couldn’t let her go. But no matter how much trust he showed in her, she refused to return the favor. Not one thing about her past ever slipped past those sumptuous lips. Not many had that kind of control; Shannon had only seen it in himself and his brothers. Secrets were just the things whispered to others because it was just too juicy to keep to oneself. This woman knew how to keep her secrets. And frankly it was driving him batshit.

The antsy-ness under his skin was playing havoc on his head. How could he think clearly when there was this riddle he couldn’t solve, couldn’t touch beyond the physical? The woman kept herself so far removed he couldn’t be sure of anything other than the way she reacted to his touch. In bed, she gave him all of her body, but damn it, he wanted more.

And that—that right there was the biggest mystery of all. What the fuck was this touchy-feely shit that seemed to have settled into his chest, its tentacles slowly growing through every part of him? The feeling, the unshakable need to protect, to possess, to own was riding him hard. Unfamiliar emotions he couldn’t name bombarded him constantly whenever he looked at her, thought about her, touched her. He should’ve sent her away. She had wanted to spread her legs to whoever paid for it—he should’ve let her. But he couldn’t. The thought of another man touching her, being between her thighs…

Shit, he needed to kill something.

As soon as the car cruised to a stop, Shannon jumped out, dragging Shay across his lap and out of the car with him. Pulling her tightly against his side, he made his way through the throng of wannabe boxers, gamblers and guys just looking for thrills on a Friday night. Taking her to the side entrance, he ushered her upstairs to the only box in the place. He’d redesigned the interior with Conall’s help. On the bottom floor was a huge, square, spring floor that took up a third of the total floor space, surrounded by wire fencing. In the north and south corners were bookie booths; the east and west corners were close to the general entrances and had food and beer stands. The second floor had seating for those who could afford to buy a plush, movie-theatre-type chair for the night. The top floor was Shannon’s. It had its own private booth, a small locker room with a shower, and a tiny office. No came up here but him, his brothers, or Mickey.

Ushering Shay to a seat in the glass booth, he motioned to Mickey, who immediately took post behind her.

“Stay here,” he instructed before heading to the locker room to change into simple mid-thigh shorts and a cup. Tape was the only thing he used to protect his knuckles. It was more to take a bruising and keep punching without the fist getting all slippery with blood.

This was hardly the first time he had climbed into the ring unannounced. The first round was scheduled between two neighborhood toughs. Too thin and too green to give him what he needed. He clung to the shadows, careful to stay out of Shay’s line of vision, while he watched her reaction to the matches. Once again, not a flinch, not a flicker of disgust or empathy for those in the ring. What the hell did he expect? She’d watched him beat a man to death, watched him order the deaths of many others, and every single time she didn’t bat a lash.

Shay, Shay, who the hell are you
? It didn’t matter, she was his now and goddamn it, he was keeping her. And he liked the name Shay. Shannon’s Shay. Fuck, what in the hell was wrong with him?

As soon as a big brute of a mother, Shaun Keegan, climbed into the ring, Shannon made his way to the gate, pushing the dumb fuck who was going to try to fight the six-foot-five, three-hundred-pound bruiser out of the way. The guy Shannon displaced started to complain, until he saw who he was.

“I’m sorry, Mr. O’Shea, I didn’t know—”

Whatever else the guy said was drowned out by the roar of the crowd as soon as Shannon entered the ring. Daring a glance up at Shay, Shannon was a little taken aback to see the first flash of genuine emotion outside the bedroom. She was leaning forward, her hands gripping the arms of the chair she sat in. That was fear on her face—real fear, and it was all for—

SMACK
!

Stars exploded behind his right eye as Shaun’s meaty fist slammed full force into the side of his face. Shit, he should’ve been paying attention. But he had to take another glance at Shay. She was on her feet, fear and anger written clearly all over her face. And that left him open to a gut shot. Pain cramped his stomach, racing up his spine, down to his balls. An uppercut to his jaw had him staggering backward, the sting blossoming into a burning ache.

Once upon a time this would have been just what he wanted, but like a lightning flash he realized this had been filler. All he wanted to do now was get the fuck out of this ring and go take his woman. Shaking it off, he sent a left-right combo to the side of Shaun’s head, but he knew that wasn’t going to take the big fucker down. It was enough to daze him long enough for two quick kidney shots, before dancing to the side and kicking him behind the knee. As soon as the big man started to teeter, Shannon landed a vicious right to his jaw. Knowing he had only a few moments, Shannon followed him down and put him in a chokehold. It was hell riding the bull of a man and keeping his hold, but there was not a chance in hell he was letting go to prolong the fight. The crowd was going crazy, the sound echoing off the metal walls. Usually he gave them more of a show, but Shay—Shay was worried about him. She’d been scared for him. He had to get to her. And as soon as Shaun slumped down, Shannon was out of the ring and headed back up the back stairs.

***

Oh, God, he’d climbed into the ring with a man bigger than Mickey! Why? Why was he doing that? Moreover, why the fuck did she care? Watching the hits against his face, his stomach, Shay fought back a cry of dismay. He’d let the guy hit him, repeatedly. And he wasn’t fighting back.

“Miss Reid, Mr. O’Shea is going to be okay,” Mickey assured her, pressing her back into the chair gently but firmly.

“Why is he here…” Wait. He’d called her Miss Reid. Shocked in to silence, her head whipped around to stare at the usually silent man who seemed to be glued to her shadow. “How long have you known who I am?” Fuck! Did Shannon know? Was that why he had dragged her around with him, why he refused to let her work in the brothels? “Does Shannon know?”

“I have known from the beginning.” Mickey shrugged. “D’Andre Simmons is a friend. Mr. O’Shea never asked me, or I would’ve told him. He asked others to see what they could find. They found nothing because D’Andre covered your tracks.”

D’Andre had known her plan all along? It made sense, he was always the wisest of all her brother’s men, though he refused to show it in front of anyone. If she could’ve hand-picked anyone to take over her brother’s businesses it would be him. But that Mickey and D’Andre knew each other blew her mind. They were from different neighborhoods, worked for different organizations, even though the two were bizarrely similar in many ways.

“If Shannon asked you to find out who I am, would you tell him?” Shay asked, heart in her throat.

“Yes.”

Short, simple and to the point. Shay couldn’t blame him for the answer either; he worked for Shannon. There was no loyalty to her. There was no point arguing, so she didn’t. But she knew her time of sitting on the fence was soon ending. She was going to have to tell Shannon who she was or leave.

“You look at the fight now,” Mickey prodded gently.

Yeah, she had deliberately not looked down at where Shannon had been taking bruising punishment. It was easier not to see it than to deal with the very real fear for him. But turning back she was relieved to witness Shannon with the upper hand. He was delivering quick, sharp blows, throwing the big guy off his rhythm. Soon, Shannon had the man in a chokehold, riding him like a bronco all the way down to the mat. It seemed to take forever for the giant of a man to lose consciousness, but as soon as he was finally out, Shannon was up out of the ring, striding with purpose out of her eyeshot.

He was coming for her. She felt that in her very bones. Heart racing, she got to her feet and turned to exit the glass booth. For some reason she wanted to meet him, felt that he would need that; that he really needed her. So when he burst through the door, slamming it closed with his foot, she was ready. She didn’t mind the pain as her back slammed against the hard, fake-wood surface of the desk, one of the only two pieces of furniture in the room. The tangy metallic taste of his blood didn’t faze her as he took her mouth in a punishing, demanding kiss. There was no thought of denying him, of shying away from the way his lips moved over hers, opening her mouth for him. Her tongue happily danced with his, her body helpfully arching as he more or less ripped off her clothes.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was dimly aware Mickey was in the room, or at least had been when Shannon had burst in. She had been around long enough to know one of Shannon’s older brothers—Fionn?—had sent Mickey to watch over Shannon, so he wouldn’t have strayed far. But it didn’t matter. Shannon needed her. The why escaped her, but that didn’t matter either. Her soul yearned to ease his, her body opening itself to offer all the comfort she could give. Her folds were slick—so slick with need by the time he worked his fingers into her channel she came on impact, her hands clawing the sweat-slicked skin of his back.

“Gentle just isn’t going to happen tonight, sweetheart,” he snarled against her ear before biting at her throat. “Fuck, I need this—”

That was her only warning before she felt the full, thick length of his cock powering inside her.

Oh, God, it hurt. It felt divine. Pleasure and pain intertwined to create the perfect torment that had her cursing him while thrusting her hips upward in a demand for more.

“Why do I need you so fucking bad?” she heard him groan, but she was sure he wasn’t really talking to her. Still, she knew the feeling.

“The same reason I need you,” she finally admitted. And she did. She hadn’t even realized how cold she’d been until the first time he touched her. No matter how much she fought against his fire, she was helplessly drawn to his flames.

“Damn, baby. Yesss!”

Without disconnecting their bodies, the pulled her to the very edge of the desk, placing her feet on his shoulders as he angled even deeper inside her. This wasn’t sex; it wasn’t even fucking. He pounded her without mercy, without pause until Shay was little more than a mindless mass of raw nerve endings. Her throat had gone raw from the cries that he drew from her, her body glistening as if she too had been in the ring. With every stroke he claimed her as more than some undefinable sidekick. He was making her his in every way, and she was allowing it.

“If you aren’t on birth control, that’s just too bad.”

Her brain heard the words, but it took a minute for her to put them together to make any kind of sense out of them.

He wasn’t wearing a condom. She hadn’t even thought about it until now. The rational side of her warned her to push him away, to stop this before it was too late. But instinct as old as time had her arching her body while spreading her thighs to welcome him in deeper. Her pussy spasmed wildly, the walls of her vagina milking his cock for all it was worth.

“Fuck! Shay, baby…”

She could feel his sperm rushing inside her and knew there would be no turning back. She might not get pregnant, but she would always be his.

And Shay couldn’t bring herself to regret it.