The Final Hour (Dublin Nights Book 5) Read online

  “I know what has to be done. I just wish no one had to die.” Holly carried her focus to me, and I was fairly confident she was thinking about the fact her husband broke his promise to her in October at my home in Sicily. “Did you know we fought after he went all Punisher at your house? That night you all worked with those military guys?” She paused for a breath, a touch of red meandering up the column of her throat. “I was hormonal since I was in the middle of weaning Siobhan off breastfeeding. But he’d promised me he’d never kill again, and I was upset that he did, so he slept at the hotel a few nights. I just worry about what killing does to him, though. The aftereffects of such a decision to take a human life.”

  “We were up against a lot of armed men. He was trying really damn hard not to kill anyone,” I defended him.

  A criminal, known as The Italian, practically sent an army to my house to get to the woman I was helping, along with a group of American Navy SEALs.

  “Sebastian said those SEALs told him it’d be easier to ask forgiveness later and just . . .” She let go of her words as if talking about it only upset her again. “You know they told him killing again was like riding a bike? Their humor is a bit grim.” She grimaced. “Sorry if I’m insulting you since you, um, still kill.”

  “It’s not exactly easy to insult me.” I set the tumbler on the coffee table before me and placed my hands on the arms of the chair. “Killing is never the goal.” We’d explained that to Holly before, but she was from a different world than Sebastian and me. And I was glad about that. I wouldn’t wish my life experiences on her. Not ever. “Defend ourselves or die. That’s usually what it comes down to. And if it’s Sebastian or the other guy . . .” I trailed off. She got the idea.

  Holly placed her glass on the side table, then lifted her hand and applied pressure to her forehead as if the topic was giving her a headache. Her green eyes disappeared behind her lids, and her long, dark lashes were on display. “Isn’t it ironic that Adam was the one I’d always been worried would end up killing someone, and yet, he doesn’t have blood on his hands?”

  I glimpsed at my red fingernails and flipped my palms up, studying them as if they held the answer to how many men had died by my hands.

  “I know Cole had to but has Sean killed anyone?”

  I wasn’t about to reveal to his younger sister whether or not Sean had a body count. “I, um, think you should talk to Sean about that.”

  “I knew who I was marrying with Sebastian, and I love that man, even if he considers firing a weapon like riding a bike . . . but I had this image of Sean in my head and now—”

  “Sean is still that man.” I stood and went over to sit next to her and hesitantly set a hand on Holly’s forearm. “He just sees the world a bit differently now. And your husband and brothers are doing their best to shield you from that world.”

  Based on her downturned lips, I was failing to alleviate her worries.

  “I mean, your brother has changed in the sense that he’s very ripped now. Perfectly carved, like Michelangelo’s David,” I said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood, to get a laugh out of her. But all my words did was flood my thoughts with images of Sean’s toned body.

  Don’t go there, Ems. People you care about die. I died. It was Chanel’s voice in my head instead of mine, something that only happened whenever guilt rose its ugly head to trip me up. And he’s not Italian. Don’t forget your promise. That voice was all me.

  My hand went back to my lap, and I stole a look at Siobhan as she rolled to her side, her eyes getting sleepy.

  “Sean was always more like Adam than he’d admit. He tried to be the son Ma and Da didn’t have to worry about. They had too much on their plates with Adam. Sean was the balance. The yin to Adam’s yang or whatever you want to call it.” Holly was on her feet, rubbing her arms as if chasing away chills. “But now Sean doesn’t share his feelings much with me. He keeps everything bottled up inside, which worries me. He’s harder, and I’m not referring to his body, Emilia.”

  She was definitely the yin to Sebastian’s yang or whatever Holly had meant by that about Adam and Sean.

  “You can’t be together because of League rules. Sean told me.”

  At some point, I had to admit to Sean that it was more than just League rules as to why we couldn’t be together. “Why do you think Sean’s like Adam?” I asked, curious to try and better understand the man from his sister’s point of view since my judgment was tainted by the feelings I refused to allow myself to feel.

  Holly added more whiskey to her glass, checked on Siobhan, now asleep, and then focused on me. “In high school, my boyfriend got too handsy. Didn’t like the word no.”

  I didn’t tolerate assholes who set their hands on a woman without permission.

  She must have noticed my face or body tense up because she gave me a moment to let go of an angry breath through my nostrils.

  “Sean happened to come into our house, and my boyfriend backed off. Adam was outside on his mobile, but if he’d been the one to come in and witness for himself my arsehole boyfriend making an uninvited move on me, he’d have killed him without hesitation. And Sean did have to stop him from attempting to do exactly that when he’d come inside and heard what happened.” Her shoulders relaxed, and I sensed the boyfriend never got too far and that her worries had more to do with protecting her brothers right now. “Adam’s temper is very out front. He’s worked on it over the years, and his marriage to Anna has calmed him down. But Sean was always careful about masking his. He lets his anger simmer beneath the surface.”

  “Sean went after your ex, didn’t he? After the fact.”

  Holly nodded. “Went to his house and broke his arm and threatened him. I didn’t know about it at the time.”

  And I would’ve done the same thing if I’d been Sean.

  “That’s one incident, though. Maybe there are a few more, but he’s careful from what I’ve seen of Sean. Cautious and in control.” Unless he’s dealing with me and his frustrations about the fact we can’t be together. “I don’t think you need to worry he’ll unnecessarily take things too far.”

  She studied me, taking in my assessment, but I wasn’t so sure if I’d convinced her to stop worrying about her brother.

  I expelled a deep breath. “He’s never killed anyone.” I allowed the confession to slip free, deciding Holly didn’t need any unwarranted stress. If my words could help her, then so be it.

  He’d shot people. Stabbed them. So on and so on. But he’d always stopped short of killing.

  “You were afraid to ask him that, and so there, you have the answer. Neither Adam nor Sean are killers.”

  Holly’s chest fell from relief, and she tucked her bottom lip inward.

  Oh no, not tears.

  “But I can’t promise there won’t be a day that his zero-kills statistic doesn’t change.” I stood and zipped my brown leather jacket that matched my tall boots. “The last person you need to worry about is Sean, though.” You’re the unstable one, Emilia. How many people did you kill in the name of revenge for me, for a friend you weren’t supposed to have? Chanel’s voice loomed in the back of my head, leaving me unsettled.

  “You’re leaving. I’m sorry.”

  Oh, I was, wasn’t I? My boots had taken me to the door on autopilot. “I have some business to attend to.”

  “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

  I looked back at Holly, her hand on her chest as she drew in a deep breath.

  “You had questions, and you’re a parent now, so I can understand how that may make you leery.” Well, I understood the way a daughter raised without a mother could.

  “How long until you think The League will shut down The Alliance once and for all? I always ask Sebastian, but he never gives me a straight answer.”

  That’s because there isn’t one. “I don’t know. Maybe in January.”

  Holly’s bottom lip lowered as if contemplating her words before she let them free. “And the main guys
, the main players in charge—what about them? January, too?” She circled the playpen, giving me no choice but to face her.

  I squeezed my eyes closed as Chanel’s lifeless body came to mind. You can’t kill Atlas. He’s my brother, Chanel whispered in my head.

  “The Alliance falls when the leaders fall,” I whispered and drew in a shallow breath, shaking Chanel from my mind as I found Holly’s green eyes on me when my lids parted. “I’m sorry. I have to go.” I turned away and opened the door before she had a chance to ask more questions I wasn’t prepared to answer.

  Once in the red BMW M5 I’d rented for my time in Dublin, I grabbed my mobile and scrolled to Sean’s number. Stupid idea, but perhaps I had an addiction to pain since I kept finding ways to spend time with the man even when I didn’t have a valid reason.

  “Emilia,” he said upon picking up two rings later.

  “I need to release some tension again.”

  Chapter Three

  Emilia

  “Not what I had in mind when you called,” Sean said in a low, raspy voice as he eyed me on the blue mat inside the MMA-style gym Adam owned. It was after hours, so we had the place to ourselves.

  “It was this or finish what we started last night in the park.” I tossed him a bokken, which was a Japanese wooden sword used for training in martial arts.

  “What you started, you mean. Those gun runners were your targets, not mine. Hell, they hadn’t been on my radar.” Sean’s Irish lilt tended to thicken whenever he was aroused or angry. I couldn’t always tell the difference between when he was upset or turned on. Passion and frustration often went hand in hand and fueled the other. And right now, I was fairly certain both of our accents were deeper than normal and for both reasons.

  “And maybe they should’ve been on your radar since this is your city.” I went straight for him with the bokken, and his instincts kicked in. He blocked my strike, deflecting a jab to his torso.

  The arc of his blade stayed pointed above our heads, and he surprised me by stepping back, a smirk on his face, to create what would’ve been a vertical slash across my body had it been a real blade.

  And did I just lose my focus because of rippling abs? Damn it, and he noticed, too.

  I used my foot to kick up a second bokken from the mat and captured his weapon between my wooden swords when he came at me with another strike. I held him there, but he was stronger than me now. He’d become more defined and powerful this year, and his strength had my limbs trembling as I tried to maintain my position.

  Change of plans. I relaxed my arms and shifted to his right, released my weapons, and ducked to the side while simultaneously tripping him and circling my arm around his neck to take him down.

  He fell with a hard thud, and I straddled him, forcing him beneath me.

  “If you wanted to be on top, you could’ve just asked.” His husky voice sailed to my ears and had me pressing my palms to his biceps and pinning his arms at his sides out of frustration.

  I felt the strength in his corded arms. Admired the raw power in his taut body. I wouldn’t be able to hold him down much longer unless he allowed it to happen, and that would irritate me more. I’d take a loss rather than have a win handed to me.

  I was panting harder than I should’ve been, and it wasn’t because I was out of breath from our short fight.

  His cock stirred beneath his sweats, perilously close to my center as I sat on top of him. His lips twitched into a small, knowing smile—that playboy charm he loved to toss my way to get a rise out of me.

  He knew I was desperate for him to fill me. Stretch me with his hard length. I’d violate the rule and have sex with him if this thing between us was merely about desire. I’d happily surrender to him if an orgasm would fix our problems.

  Dragging my gaze from his mouth, I let my eyes travel purposefully down his chest and onto the tattoo, a requirement upon joining The League. He’d chosen a lion on its hind legs, paws up, with an Irish League shield in front of it.

  When my focus fell to his well-defined abs, his breathing sped up, and I caught a whiff of his heady masculine scent. Why did he always have to smell so good? Not even trying to be discreet, I pulled in a deep breath of man and dropped my gaze to the light trail of blond hair that disappeared under the waistband of his gray sweats.

  Move, I willed him, our eyes locked. When he failed to follow my silent command, I slowly lowered myself to an awkward plank so that my breasts touched his chest. My lips hovered over his mouth, and his warm breath fanned across my face. His eyes remained riveted on mine, waiting for me to make the first move and do what we both wanted.

  We were dangerously close to kissing in this intimate position with him trapped beneath me.

  I was more like Papà than ever, wasn’t I? Caring for someone off-limits.

  And so, I had to kill the moment. Stop this from going any further. I couldn’t let my need for someone nearly destroy me as I was convinced had happened to my father. He’d never moved on from the only woman he wanted and couldn’t have. He died alone.

  I’d survived more than twenty months without giving in to my attraction to Sean, so why in the hell was I becoming weak now?

  I blinked and stole my focus from him, forcing myself to back off. “I’m sorry I made you leave your date to come train. You could’ve said no.”

  I started to push off from him, my hands moving to his chest for leverage, but in one fast movement, he had me on my back before I realized what happened.

  His eyes dropped to my breasts, nearly spilling out of the tight black tank top as I pulled in gulps of air. Maybe I should’ve gone topless so he’d be the distracted one.

  “I wasn’t on a date,” he announced tightly, continuing to restrain me between his strong, muscled thighs. He also had my wrists secured to the mat alongside my head, and the dominance he exuded only served to fuel my lust.

  God, how many times had I envisioned this exact moment sans clothes? But in my daydream, he was thrusting his cock inside me instead of murdering me with his stare.

  Those blue eyes were not only captivating, they provoked a frenzy of emotions to stir inside me.

  Even if he were Italian, you’d find another excuse to push him away. And Chanel was back in my head again. I was turning into an actual crazy person. You’re afraid his blood will end up on your hands, just like mine did. That he’ll die and you’ll be forever alone. Or maybe it’s something else. Do you fear he’ll abandon you the way your mother left you?

  “I heard a woman in the background,” I countered, lamely trying to fortify my walls with utter nonsense. I was also desperate to get my subconscious, aka Chanel, to stop wreaking havoc on my mental stability and shut the hell up. “She sounded blonde.”

  He rolled his eyes. “And how does a blonde sound?” He kept our bodies ridiculously close, the bulge in his sweats distracting me.

  “You have a thing for blondes, from what I can tell. Birds of a feather and all that.” Complete bullshit. I had no idea what type of woman Sean was attracted to. Well, aside from me. I was only trying to push his buttons and drive him away. I was acting like a child to protect both of us from getting hurt. I didn’t need Chanel’s voice in my head to understand why I did what I did. I knew it. Understood it. And I hated it.

  He scrutinized me with a stare that could melt the wax from a candle. “That brunette was a client I had to take out to dinner for work.”

  Client? Yeah, sure. “You don’t owe me an explanation.”

  “You brought it up. I was clarifying,” he grumbled, his tone a hairsbreadth from angry. There was no mistaking his thicker Irish brogue as anything but frustration with me this time.

  He rolled off me and to the side, which was what I’d wanted but now felt . . . alone.

  Sean pushed the bokkens out of his way but remained flat on his back. His face was tipped toward the ceiling, and he covered his eyes with his palm.

  I stood and contemplated grabbing the weapons for another go. We’d pr
obably end up back on the ground.

  “People need to screw, Sean. It’s human. You should enjoy yourself.”

  He lowered his hand and shifted onto his elbows to sit up a little. His intense gaze raked over my body before landing on my face. “Does that mean you’re enjoying yourself?” He tried to hide it, but I heard the nerves slicing through his tone as he waited for my answer.

  What I needed to do was say yes. Lie and tell him I’d been having sex—plenty of it. Hurt him and force him to move on. I just couldn’t seem to do it. “I’m just saying I want you to be happy. And if blondes are your thing, then good for you. Find one to marry, and I’ll come to your wedding.”

  The time we were required to spend in each other’s company would be a lot easier if he weren’t so handsome, smart, and caring. Any of the things most women surely included on their checklist for the perfect mate. I wasn’t most women, though. So why was my heart racing right now while he peered at me like I was his whole world?

  It was unnerving, so I looked away as I said, “You’re stronger than I remember.”

  “What choice did I have? A woman of your strength and intelligence would never look twice at a weaker man.” Sean was behind me in a moment, his breath a warm caress at the nape of my neck as he gently pushed my fishtail braid to the side. “I needed to become a fighter so that I could fight for you.”

  He wasn’t referring to physically protecting me. He knew I was capable of taking care of myself in that regard within The League as well as outside of it. No, Sean meant that he’d been working toward fighting for an “us,” on being the equal my father wanted for me.

  And that hurt, made my heart hurt. So many parts of me were aching at his admission, and I didn’t have a clue how to handle it right now.

  I banded an arm across my midsection. Physical pain I could handle. Emotional pain . . . not so much.

  I spun around to find him close enough to lean in, press up on my toes, and kiss him if I dared.