SEAN: A Mafia Romance (The Callahans Book 3) (2 page)

Delaney

I changed at the office and drove to the gym, a part of me hoping the guy from the night before would be there as he’d said. It was stupid that I was working out at the gym in the hopes of learning some self-defense to protect me from the men in my life and that I was depending on a strange man to help me figure things out. I should be a strong, independent woman, taking some stupid class where they teach you how to beat up a guy in a rubber suit instead of going to a boxing gym some girl in my office recommended. But she said it was a good place to learn some real fight moves instead of the bullshit they teach you in those classes. And I wanted to be able to hurt someone if what happened the other day happened again.

Pepper spray wasn’t good enough. I wanted to inflict real pain.

But it never occurred to me that I’d have to ask for help. I didn’t like asking for help.

I walked in, dropping my bag on a bench next to a couple of others, surveying the room as I did. There were only a couple of people there, a woman sparring with some older guy in the ring, a couple of guys jumping rope. And the redhead over by the bags, working the smaller one as if he was a pro.

I watched him for a minute, admiring the way his workout clothes fit his body. He was tall and muscular, but lean. He had broad shoulders and a barrel chest that tapered into a narrow waist. His skin was a warm cream color with the typical scattering of freckles most redheads sport, his jaw wide, and his eyes a darker shade of blue than my own. He was handsome…handsomer than I was comfortable with. The last thing I needed right now was to allow my hormones to get in the way of logic. I already had one psychotic ex-boyfriend after me. No need to add another to that list.

I took a roll of bandage that I’d bought at a sporting goods store this morning from my bag, wrapping it around my hands in an imitation of how he’d done it last night. Then I walked over to the heavy bags, taking up the stance he’d shown me, punching an imaginary face in the center of the bag.

“Good,” a warm, deep voice said behind me.

I glanced over my shoulder, unable to hide the proud smile that spread over my face. “Thanks.”

“You need to keep your arms up a little higher though.”

“Oh.”

So much for my pride.

He moved up behind me and lifted my elbows, positioning them to where he felt they should be. Then he stepped back. I punched, realizing that the position felt better, but it was a little awkward all at the same time. And I could feel him watching me, and that made it a little more complicated. I was too aware of how I looked, of how I was standing. And I found myself wondering what he thought about what he was seeing.

Stop it, Delaney!

After a few punches, he moved up behind me again and repositioned my arms. This time he didn’t move back, but stayed where he was, the heat of his body eating through the thin material of my yoga pants and t-shirt, making it almost impossible for me to think. But I did the best I could, punching the bag with as much power as I could muster.

We went on like that for a good half hour before he finally stepped back.

“You’re a natural.”

“I’m sure.”

“No, you are.”

I turned, a slight blush touching my cheeks as I regarded him. He watched me through hooded eyes for a long moment before he turned and walked away.

“Hey,” I said, not sure what I wanted to say, but needing to stop him from leaving.

He paused, and then he turned back to me. “Keep practicing,” he said.

Then he was gone, grabbing his bag and walking out as if I didn’t matter.

Well, fuck you, too.

I turned back to the bag and pictured his face right in the center. And then I punched the hell out of it until I was too tired to move.

***

He was there the next day, watching me from a distance as I worked out on the bag. He came over after a while and silently showed me a couple of new punches. I watched closely, then repeated what he’d done, feeling the burn of new muscles as I did. He walked away once I mastered the moves, leaving as he had the day before. It was pretty clear he was not interested in anything more than teaching me a few moves. However, the moves he taught me built each day. Every night he would come over and teach me something slightly different. After a week, I had a pretty decent repertoire of punches.

“Hey, what’s your name?” I asked Monday night.

“Sean,” he said almost curtly.

“I’m Delaney,” I said.

He inclined his head and started for his bag and the door.

“Hey!”

I chased after him, touching his arm before he could go. He pulled away almost as though my touch was fire on his skin. I held my hands up in a gesture of peace, a little confused.

“Don’t go grabbing people like that,” he said a little crisply.

“Sorry, I just…”

He looked at me, those eyes almost boring through me. “I’m just trying to help you. I’m not trying to create some great friendship, or anything.”

“I just wanted to say thank you.”

He looked me over for a long second then inclined his head. “You’re welcome.”

And then he was gone, vanished as if he’d never been there.

***

I sat at my desk the next morning, looking through the list of emails that waited for a response. I was sore in places I had never been sore before, muscles I didn’t know I had were now aching. I pushed back from my desk and bent low, stretching out my back as best I could, but it did very little to relieve the pain.

“I’ll come back.”

I sat up and laughed as my personal assistant, Alex, headed for the door.

“I was just stretching.”

“I wasn’t sure what you were doing.”

“I’ve been working out at the gym, and I’m sore as hell.”

“What gym?”

“It’s a boxing gym down in Dorchester. One of the girls in the secretary pool recommended it to me.”

“A boxing gym? Why would you want to do that? You should join that new place down the street. I hear they have a hot new aerobics instructor.”

“Aerobics never did much to protect a girl from a crazy ex.”

Alex frowned. “Claude still sending those texts?”

I picked up my phone and handed it to him. He read the text that had arrived early this morning, right on time. I always woke to a text from Claude. They’d been romantic texts when we were together, but since we’d broken up they’d become threatening.

“‘Watch your back because I’m always right behind you,’” Alex read. “Wow, he’s really a poet.”

I smiled. “He’s a great guy, isn’t he?”

“Doesn’t he know you have a restraining order against him?”

“The sheriff’s office tells me they delivered it to him. But a piece of paper isn’t going to stop Claude.”

“Do you want me to go talk to him?”

I studied my tall, lithe assistant. “That’s sweet,” I said, even as I was thinking that Claude would break him in half. “But not necessary.”

He inclined his head slightly as he set my phone back on my desk. “You have a meeting in five minutes. Mr. Wallace is already here.”

I nodded. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“If you help someone out at the gym, teach them a few moves, do you think it’s inappropriate to expect a thank you?”

“Of course not.” He looked at me with a frown. “Why?”

“There’s this guy who has been helping me, showing me how to work out with the bags properly, but when I tried to thank him last night, he seemed to be annoyed by it.”

“Maybe he’s shy. Or he has a girlfriend and he thought you were coming on to him.”

“I wasn’t…” I thought about how I grabbed his arm, how he tensed and turned around so quickly. “I wasn’t coming on to him, but I grabbed his arm.”

“Maybe he doesn’t like being touched.”

“Maybe.”

“People have baggage, Delaney. Maybe he just isn’t interested in basic human interaction.”

“Maybe.”

Alex tilted his head slightly, regarding me with that knowing look he has. “You be careful. You’ve been through enough these last few months. You don’t need another broken man in your life.”

“I know.”

I sat back and sighed, all too aware of how right he was. But when I thought about Sean, about the way he looked at me last night, I couldn’t shake it. I wanted to make the dark clouds in his eyes go away. I wanted to fix whatever it was that was making him hurt.

Once again, I knew I was being stupid, but I couldn’t help myself. Despite everything, I couldn’t stop wanting to fix what was wrong with the men in my life. I blamed my mother. She was one of those women who always found herself on the wrong side of every romantic entanglement she’d ever been involved in. She was often the other woman, including her relationship with my father. She fell in love with men she felt were broken in some way, trying to fix them even if they had a wife at home trying to do the same thing, often finding herself on the losing end of the stick. My father ended their relationship when he found out she was pregnant, then avoided any contact with her or me for almost fifteen years. And there were others, some who were abusive, but mostly those who used her and dumped her when they were over the excitement of cheating on their wives.

She was with a man right now she’d refused to introduce me to. That was the first clue that he was married.

I climbed to my feet with another heavy sigh.

“Alright, let’s get to work.”

Sean

She was here early. I watched from just inside the doorway as Delaney worked out on the bag. Her elbows were up, her punches strong and almost predictable. She was a determined student. I wondered what Jack would think if he could see her now, if he would be impressed with what she’d learned. Somehow, I didn’t think Jack would notice much about her beyond what it was that brought her into his life in the first place.

Jack McGuire was my father’s friend. He was my boss. That didn’t necessarily mean that I thought much of him, let alone admired him in any way. In fact, I didn’t much like him. He was heavy handed when it came to running his organization and was indifferent when it came to the people who cared about him. Like my father, he married at a young age. Unlike my father, he was still married to his first wife, a gentle woman named Caroline. She’d raised his five children, two boys and three girls, who were all grown and gone now. All those years—more than thirty years—he’d run around on her. He constantly had a woman on the side. I was aware of it from a young age—even though I was still too young to understand what it meant. But I remember hearing my mom whisper to my father how insensitive it was for Jack to bring
that
woman to…whatever event we happened to be attending. Baptisms. Confirmations. Weddings. It didn’t matter what it was, Jack more often than not had both his wife and his mistress in the same room, as though he got off on the danger of it, on the possibility that the two women would get into a drag-down, knock-out fight. It never happened, but the potential was always there.

And this was his latest.

I could see what there was about Delaney that would attract Jack. She was beautiful. I found myself thinking about her at the oddest times, most often late at night when I should have been sleeping. When Jack asked me to watch over her and teach her how to defend herself, I thought it would be some middle-aged woman, some woman who’d be flattered to have a young man helping her out. I hadn’t anticipated this.

“She’s important to me,” Jack said. “Make sure nothing happens to her.”

That’s what I was trying to do. However, watching her in those yoga pants and another of those transparent shirts was making my job much harder than it needed to be.

She stepped back from the bag, jogging in place a little. She happened to look up and caught sight of me watching her. A little cloud moved over her face, some emotion that I couldn’t quite read. Then she turned back to the bag and attacked it again.

I dropped my bag and walked over, moving up behind her, touching her elbows to remind her to keep them up. She pulled away as though my touch was unpleasant.

“Your form looks good.”

She stepped back, crossing her arms over her chest as she regarded me. “I appreciate your help, but I think I got it now.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

I wandered to the speed bag, attacking it as if it was the source of every frustration I’d ever felt. I got into the rhythm pretty quick, losing myself in the sound the bag made, the movement of my hands. Pops taught me how to do this; he’d taught all us boys how to box in this very gym. He and his friends had grown up in this neighborhood and hung out here when they weren’t running numbers for the mob. I could almost see it, Jack and Pops, Anthony Scarsorsi and the others, all sitting around on these benches, punching the ancestors of this bag, acting all tough like they were princes of their own domain. My brothers and I were the same way. We all fought and played as hard as our fathers ever did.

Too bad life couldn’t always be that simple.

I worked the bag for a while, then picked up a jump rope, working on my stamina a little. I didn’t see her leave. She was there one second, gone the next. I cursed under my breath. I was supposed to follow her home—as I had every night for the last week—and make sure she got there safe. I was outside her place early in the morning, too. I’d followed her to work every morning since Jack told me to watch over her. I was the one who told the pretty brunette in the secretary pool about this gym, too. Paid her fifty bucks to slip the word to Delaney.

And she had no idea.

I grabbed my bag and headed out, scanning the street for any sign of her. Her car was parked around the corner, safe only because I paid a couple of local kids to keep the local hoods away from it. She really had no idea what she was doing, driving a flashing sign of her wealth into this neighborhood full of kids who’d gotten the short end of the stick when it came to loving parents and financial stability.

I saw her just as she reached the corner, her bag slung over her shoulder. I moved into a jog, following, but trying not to follow so close that she would become aware of me. I was almost to the same corner when I heard her cry out.

“Get the hell away from me, Claude.”

“What are you doing here? Do you realize how dangerous it is for you to be in a place like this?”

“Any more dangerous than you and your buddies? Why didn’t you send your friend this time, Claude? Where is he?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She was standing near her car, a short, stocky guy holding her upper arm, his lips practically against her ear as he talked to her. She tried to pull away, but he had a firm grip on her, clearly not in much of a mind to let her go.

“We broke up. Why can’t you leave me alone?”

“Because I love you. And I miss you.”

“That’s your problem. Do you really think I’d take you back after some of the things you’ve texted to me?” She looked up at him, anger snapping in her eyes. “I have a restraining order. If a cop saw you now—”

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“Why not? I have reason to be afraid for my life.”

“You weren’t afraid when we were together. You never complained when I took you to all those fancy restaurants and your friends were jealous of you.”

She tugged at his grip, trying to make him let go again. “That was before you shoved me up against the wall and left a bruise on my back.”

“It wasn’t a bruise. And if you hadn’t flirted with that waiter…”

“I wasn’t flirting. I ordered my food.”

“You were flirting. And right in front of me!”

“Let her go.”

The guy twisted around, his hand still gripping her upper arm. She moaned a little, as though his movement was painful to her. He studied me, his eyes narrowing as he did.

“Who the fuck are you?” Then he looked at Delaney. “This your new boyfriend.”

“Go to hell, Claude.”

I don’t think he saw it coming, but I did. She drew back with her free arm and landed the perfect right cross against his jaw. He stumbled back, more stunned than hurt. He struck out, catching her with a quick backhand.

I couldn’t let him get away with that.

I stormed over and shoved him back against the side of her car. Then I landed a series of punches to his belly, his chest, his jaw. He slumped to the ground like a rag doll, down for the count before the fight even started.

“You okay?” I asked, turning to Delaney. Her lip was bleeding a little, but she was more shocked than she was hurt. I bent and snatched up her keys from where they must have landed after their initial struggle, unlocking the door to her little convertible, slipping her inside and following. I pulled out of there before the jackass could recover and remember that he’d been in the middle of expressing his bravado.

She didn’t say anything until we were halfway out of Dorchester, headed back to her side of town. She looked over at me, shame and gratefulness warring in her eyes.

“I guess I owe you another thank you.”

“Who was that asshole?”

“Ex-boyfriend. He can’t seem to take no for an answer.”

“He’s your boyfriend?”

“Ex. That’s the really important part.”

I glanced at her. “You have interesting taste in men.”

She laughed. “That’s what my father says. But you should see the guys who come and go in my mom’s life. You’d think I might have learned a thing or two, but apparently not.”

“Your father…does he know what’s going on?”

She shrugged. “He’s not exactly a big part of my life. But, yeah, he somehow found out about Claude and gave me a can of pepper spray, like that’s going to fix everything. Unfortunately, Claude sent some guy to threaten me a week or so ago, and the spray did nothing. That’s why I’ve started working out at the gym, but that apparently isn’t going to do me any good either.”

“It will. But it takes time.”

“I don’t have time.”

I glanced at her, wondering why I didn’t see it before. She wasn’t Jack’s mistress. She was his daughter. She looked like him; she even looked like the daughters he had with Caroline to a certain extent. She was blond, where they were all brunettes, but she had the same curve to her jaw, the same slight tilt to her eyes. I wondered which of Jack’s many women was her mother and if I’d ever met her.

“Maybe you should hire a bodyguard.”

“Are you available?”

She smiled when she said it, but there was something in her eyes that made me feel as though she wasn’t totally kidding.

“I’m sorry I was rude the other night when you grabbed my arm.” I gripped the wheel of her car a little harder, chewing on my lip as I tried to express myself. “I’m just…I’m not used to people doing things like that.”

“I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

“I’d like to help you, teach you a few more moves.”

“I’d like that.”

She didn’t ask how I knew where she lived when we pulled up in front of the gate to her condo complex. She told me the code to punch into the little keypad and pointed to the appropriate building.

“Can I offer you a drink?” she asked as we got out of the car. “It’s the least I can do.”

I inclined my head slightly and gestured for her to lead the way. Her condo was much warmer than mine, decorated with expensive furnishings and tasteful paintings. There were a collection of framed photos on the low table behind her couch, pictures of her and an attractive, middle-aged blond woman who must have been her mother. And a single photograph of Jack, clearly taken years ago, showing a younger version of the tycoon I knew, staring off into the distance as though he was unaware of the camera focused on him. I picked it up and studied his face.

“My dad,” Delaney said, moving up behind me. “It’s the only photo my mom ever had of him.”

“They together very long?”

Delaney shrugged. “Less than a year. When she got knocked up, he pretty much told her it was her problem and she could deal with it on her own.”

“Cold.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been told Jack McGuire isn’t the nicest guy in the world. But I wouldn’t know because he wasn’t a part of my life until about ten years ago, and then his participation was only half-hearted.”

“That’s his loss.”

She smiled. “You hardly know me. How do you know it’s a loss? Maybe he’s lucky not to have me in his life.”

“I doubt that. You’re beautiful. Smart. Determined. Any man would be lucky to have a daughter like you.”

She lifted her hand as if she wanted to touch me, but thought twice about it.

“If you have a woman in your life, a wife, a sister, a mom, she must be a very lucky woman.”

Dark thoughts suddenly swarmed my mind, making my hand shake as I set the photo back down.

“She might have once thought so.”

There was an awkward silence as I watched the questions flash through her eyes. But, to her credit, she didn’t ask any of them.

“I’ll get us that drink.”

I followed her to the kitchen. She had a larger kitchen than the one in my condo. Mine was a galley kitchen, where hers was large and clearly designed for people who like to cook or entertain. She squatted in front of a wine refrigerator under the counter and picked out a lovely red. I slipped it out of her hand and popped the cork for her.

“I could have done that.”

I shrugged. “What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t do it?”

“Just so you know I could have done it.”

“Okay.”

She smiled and then sort of hissed, touching the corner of her mouth where her ex’s slap split her lip.

“You need ice on that so it doesn’t swell.”

I went to the freezer and grabbed a piece, wrapping it in a thin piece of paper towel. I lifted her chin with my finger, pressing the ice to the split. Her eyes slid closed for a second before she looked up at me again. There was an intensity in her eyes that scared me a little.

“You’re good at that.”

I shrugged. “I’ve nursed a few fat lips in my time.”

“Did you box as a kid?”

“I did. I went to college on a boxing scholarship.”

“That’s impressive.”

“Not really. I grew up with a father who learned how to box to survive on the streets.”

“Must have been an interesting childhood.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“And your girlfriend? What does she think of all that?”