Vicious Hearts: A Dark Enemies To Lovers Mafia Romance

Cillian’s second in command is quiet as we fight our way through the gridlocked streets of Manhattan toward Hell’s Kitchen.

We’re on our way to my old apartment. A while back, Cillian brought a bunch of things from the place when he went to get Bones. But earlier today, I realized with a pang that I didn’t have the old photo album of Polaroids of Finn and I from our LA days.

It’s one of my most precious belongings, and I hate that it took me this long to notice it was missing. And I wanted to scream, realizing it was probably long gone by now, thrown out ages ago.

That is, until Cillian casually mentioned that he’s been paying the rent on the apartment this whole time. Which I obviously demanded to pay him back for.

Which he obviously ignored.

But, that means my stuff is still there. Hence, Castle driving me over to retrieve it.

I awkwardly clear my throat. “Thanks for driving.”

“No problem,” he responds in a clipped tone.

My brow furrows, my eyes watching him sideway as he maneuvers the tortuous traffic. I know he’s not always this gruff and stoic. I’ve seen the way he interacts with Neve and Eilish, and even Callie.

But with me, he goes full on strong and silent type.

“So, how long have you worked for Cillian?”

“A while.”

Okay, this is ridiculous.

“Do you not like me?”

He hides it well, but I catch the way his eye flickers, his jaw clenches, his hands grip the wheel a little tighter.

Castle’s got this classic all-American football star thing going on that I’m sure drives most women crazy. Blond, blue eyes, square, corn-fed jaw, six and a half feet tall, and built like a tank. I even looked for a flirtation between him and Eilish the other day, given that he was, and continues to be, her de facto bodyguard, and really, that salacious story writes itself.

But I was way off. The two of them are basically siblings, the way they behave—he the overprotective older brother; she the perpetually annoying kid sister. It’s actually pretty damn adorable.

But there’s nothing adorable about the hard look he gives me over the center console of the Range Rover.

“It’s a simple yes or no question. My feelings won’t be hurt if—”

“It’s more that I’m trying to figure out if I can trust you.”

I swallow as he suddenly yanks the SUV to the side, jams it into park, and turns to face me. His eyes narrow.

“Well?”

I clear my throat. “You can.”

“If you were me, and I was you,” he mutters. “Would you trust me?”

“I’m sorry, would I trust you, being me, to be…me?”

He glares at me as my grin shrinks.

“Sorry, that was supposed to be a joke.”

“Trust is earned, Una,” he growls. “I want to trust you. But I’m a suspicious person by nature. And that nature only goes into overdrive when the person telling me I can trust them is the same person who put a knife in my friend’s side with the intent to kill him. The same person who then went and tried to do that a second time.”

My jaw tightens. “You do know I was being coerced, right?”

He nods. “I do.”

“By a lunatic follower of my insane father—who I hated, in case you haven’t got that memo yet.”

“Yes, a mysterious lunatic follower of your father’s. The one you’ve never met, never heard his real voice, never seen his face, don’t have anything but an obviously fake name for…”

My eyes narrow. “And?”

He inhales slowly, his eyes locked on mine. “The Kildares might as well be my family. Cillian is a brother, Neve and Eilish are sisters, and I am very protective of that family.”

I get the ferocity and weight to what he’s saying. I would have killed—literally almost did kill—for Finn.

“Look, Una, I’m not trying to pick a fight with you. I like you—”

“Yeah, no, that’s super obvious,” I mutter dryly.

Castle smirks, lifting a shoulder. “And I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, being an O’Conor—”

“You’re right,” I hiss. “You can’t. You don’t know anything about me.”

He nods. “So, let’s change that.”

“Yeah. Let’s not.”

He chuckles. “I’m actually one of the good guys, Una.”

“With trust issues.”

“Guilty.”

I sigh. “You don’t think if there was anything underhanded or sketchy about me, that Cillian wouldn’t have batted an eye about cutting my throat and dumping me in the Hudson before he’d let me get near his family?”

Castle tips his head back and forth before turning to stare thoughtfully out the window at the passing traffic.

“Before? Sure. Now?”

He exhales slowly as he puts the Range Rover in drive and pulls away from the curb.

“Now, I honestly have no goddamn idea.”

Hell yes.

I grin as I yank the dusty shoebox out from under my old crappy bed, in my old crappy apartment. I wish I could say I have fond memories of my time when I was pretty much squatting here, but that’s not true at all.

Those days were filled with fear, and the unknown. Of worrying about, and looking for, Finn. Those were the days of the eerie phone calls from Apostle. Of a hit list on the wall of what is now my de facto adopted family.

I scowl. Screw you, Castle.

I might not have known them all very long. But I’ve never once felt accepted into something so quickly, so warmly, and so wholeheartedly as I have with the Kildare family; the Drakos family, too, for that matter. Well, some of them, at least. Callie is awesome, and Kratos has said a few kind things to me in passing. So has their tiny grandmother.

Ares is standoffish, but that’s fine. And I get that, given his personal history with my father.

Hades still looks at me like he wants to make pushing me into oncoming traffic his new hobby. But, whatever. He’s also an arrogant, pretty-boy dick, so yeah, screw him.

But as for Neve and Eilish? We might barely know each other. But they’re some of the nicest, most genuine people I’ve known in…well, possibly ever, other than Finn. I’d never hurt them, or betray them.

The same goes for Cillian.

I shiver, grinning a little as I sit on the edge of the bed. That’s been an interesting development the last week or so: every time I’m away from him—or, hell, even with him—I get all…moony.

Tingly.

Needy, and achy.

And flushed and flustered, in this ridiculous schoolgirl crush way. Which is a hard thing to wrap my head around. Number one, because Cillian is not a “crush” type of person. You get crushes on the boy next door. The doctor at your OB clinic with the ridiculously charming smile and the cute British accent.

You don’t get crushes on a sadistic, dangerous, more-than-slightly unhinged monster who forced you to marry him.

I mean, you’re not supposed to.

But also, number two, because despite our…physical relationship, Cillian and I aren’t “real”. Not when there’s a date approaching a few months from now when all of this will change.

When we’ll fake him killing me, and I’ll disappear for, hopefully, the last time. That’s a thought that’s getting increasingly bitter to think about with every day I spend in this new adoptive family of mine.

But I shake all of that from my mind as I open the shoebox and look inside. The little photo album is still there, and I feel my lips curling into a fond grin as I slip it from the box.

…Just as there’s a soft knock at the door.

My heart leaps into my throat, fear strangling me as my eyes fly to the door. When the knock comes again, I set down the album and grab the iron fire poker sitting against my bedside table—a weird dumpster find I always liked to keep there, given the sketchiness of the neighborhood.

Gripping it tightly, I move to the door and open it a crack, leaving the chain in place.

My brow furrows at the older woman with graying dark hair in a quirky, wide-brimmed hat, thick horn-rimmed glasses, and a fairly plain yet professional knee-length blue dress.

“Can I help you? I think you have the wrong address—”

She stiffens, her eyes widening as she stares back at me.

“I…yes is this…” She swallows. “Una?”

A cold sensation creeps up my back.

What the fuck.

“Una, is that you?” Her voice is so hopeful as she suddenly pulls the hat off and looks right at me.

Holy shit.

I put the poker aside, undo the chain on the door, and swing it wide to come face to face, for the first time in almost thirteen years, with Dr. Gail Thompson.

She smiles quietly and nervously. “Hello, Una.”

Outside, Castle immediately springs from the SUV and marches over.

“Easy there, Captain America,” I sigh. “It’s fine.”

He eyes Dr. Thompson up and down warily. “Excuse us for a moment.” He pulls me aside, his voice lowered. “Who the hell is that?”

“An old friend, relax.”

I mean, it’s kind of true.

“And where the hell are you—”

“To get coffee, Castle,” I groan. “Not plot the downfall of the entire Kildare empire.”

He glares at me. I glare right back.

“We’re going right over there to that café. You can stay right here and spy on me and send little notes to Cillian. M’kay?”

He doesn’t look too pleased, but I leave it at that as Dr. Thompson and I cross the street to the café.

“I heard you were living here in New York, and I just had to find you and see how you were doing.”

I bring the mug of black coffee to my lips, blowing on it as I smile curiously at Dr. Thompson, or Gail, as she’s insisted I call her now.

“How? I mean how did you find me?”

“I…” she smiles shyly. “I’ve been tracking down, or should I say trying to track down, both you and your brother for years now.” Her face darkens with a sad expression. “You… You were so very young, and I felt like such a part of your lives back then.”

She’s not wrong. She was a big part of our lives. Even though there was so much she never saw, and so much Finn and I would never have in a million years told her about our father’s lessons on killing, and infiltration, and revenge. Still… Gail was nice to Finn and me back then, even if she never saw the horrible stuff.

“How are you, Gail?”

She smiles as she sips her tea. “Oh, fine, I suppose.” She shrugs. “I don’t practice psychiatry anymore.”

“No?”

“Not after you and your bother. I couldn’t.”

Her face falls, and I watch her eyes well up as she looks away. “Una, I feel very responsible for so many horrible things I didn’t really see at the time back then. That’s why I’ve been looking for you. You were both put through so much, and I know now that my focus on my research was clouding my humanity.” She sniffs back a tear, shaking her head as she reaches across the table to take my hand. “I never should have allowed any of that, and I’m so incredibly sorry.”

I squeeze her hand back, smiling sadly. “It’s…fine. It’s in the past. And he’s gone now.”

She nods, looking down at her tea.

“I was so worried when they ended the program, and suddenly you and Finn weren’t at that group home anymore either. And they couldn’t even give me your foster address, because of course it’s against policy. But, Una, I was worried sick about the two of you. Although…” she smiles. “It looks like you’re doing okay?”

I swallow, looking down. “It… There were some not great years there. But, yeah.” I smile a crooked smile. “Yeah, I’m okay now, I guess.”

“And Finn? Is he here in the city too?”

A stabbing sensation in my chest makes me wince.

“Una?”

“He’s… He died, actually. About nineteen months ago.”

Gail’s face goes chalk, pain in her eyes as she reaches over and squeezes my hand. “My God, I’m so sorry to hear that, Una. He was…” she chokes back tears. “He was such a good boy.”

“The best,” I whisper quietly before exhaling the pain away. “But I’m doing okay.” I snort a laugh, rolling my eyes as I lift my hand to show her the simple gold band. “I’m, uh…I’m married, now. Recently, actually.”

Her eyes lose their momentary sadness as she grins, wiping the tears away. “You are! My goodness, how wonderful!” She beams at me. “Congratulations, Una! Who’s your husband? What’s he do?”

“Oh, he’s…” I smile. “He’s in management. Finance. That kind of thing.”

Gail winks at me. “Can I see a picture?”

“Sure.”

Feeling weirdly giddy and blushy, I pull the smartphone that Cillian recently bought me out of my bag and open up the photos app. I scroll to a shot of Cillian I took the other night—of him standing by one of the windows in the penthouse, looking out at the city. I took it from the side, showing his profile, a slight reflection in the window itself. It’s a good shot, if I do say so myself.

“This is him.”

Gail gasps, eyes going wide before she grins a little salaciously at me.

“My goodness, Una! He’s very handsome.” She giggles. “And quite a bit older, I see.”

I blush. “A little. But…it works.”

“I’m jealous!” she laughs. “I’ve been here in the city for two years, and I haven’t met any tall, hunky older men like this yet. Much less married one!”

I grin. “You live here in the city now?”

“I do, yes. In SoHo. I always wanted to live here, and I wasn’t practicing anymore. So I thought…why not?”

She glances back at my phone and goes to touch the image, as if to zoom in. But she accidentally swipes to the next picture. I stiffen for a moment, wondering what the eff is the next photo on my phone? But I sigh to myself in relief when I see the little furry face.

It’s Bones, lying on my guest room bed, sprawled against the headboard, basically upside down. As if he’s standing on his head.

“Oh my God, who is this?!” she gushes.

I chuckle. “That’s Bones, my cat. He’s a weirdo.”

“He’s adorable! I love cats,” she sighs. “I just can’t have them in my apartment, unfortunately.”

Her brows arch suddenly, remembering. “Oh! Also, I always wanted to give you this, if I ever found you.”

She rummages in her bag and suddenly pulls out a manila envelope, sliding it across the table to me. When I open it, my breath catches.

It’s pictures of Finn and I—Playing in the grass at Coal Creek. Drawing pictures inside the classroom Gail set up for us. Building stuff with Legos. I’m grinning so hard my cheeks hurt until I flip over the next photo.

And the world goes a little dim.

This one is of my father—looking grim, cruel, and just plain evil as he looms over Finn and I drawing something on the table in front of us.

I don’t realize I’m frozen, staring at those leering, cold eyes until Gail’s hand drops onto mine.

“Una?”

I shiver, flinching. She winces.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for that to hurt you.”

“It’s fine,” I blurt quickly.

“It’s just…” she shrugs. “My own father died young, and I just… Look, I know who and what your father was. But a parent—”

“I think you can keep these, but thank you.”

“Family is so rare—”

“I’m painfully aware of that,” I snap.

Immediately, I feel terrible for lashing out as I watch her face fall.

“I—I’m so sorry, Una,” she blurts, quickly grabbing up the pictures. “I’ve upset you, and spoken way out of turn—”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not.” She frowns, looking down and quickly pulling out a few photos. “Here. These ones are just your brother and you. I’d like you to have them. I’ll get rid of the rest, I promise.”

I swallow, nodding as I take the pictures of Finn and I. “Thank you.”

Gail smiles. “Please, let me make this up to you?”

“No, Gail, it’s really not necc—”

“Dinner at my place sometime soon?”

“Really?”

She ducks her chin a little. “I—I mean, if you want?”

I grin. “That sounds great, actually.”

She beams. “Wonderful! Here—this is my number. Call me anytime, and let’s really do something soon!” She scrawls a number on one of the café napkins and slides it over to me with a grin. “And bring that adorable kitty!”

Outside, we hug tightly before she pulls away. “I am so thrilled I finally found you, Una. I’ve wanted to see how you were doing for so long.”

I promise to call her soon before I cross the street and get into the passenger seat of Castle’s Range Rover.

“Here, you want trust?” I shrug. “Fine. That was Gail Thompson.”

His brows shoot up. “Wait, as in Doctor Gail Thompson?”

“Oh, so you have pried into my private past.”

He rolls his eyes. “Give me a break, it’s part of my job.” He frowns as he glances at me. “Una, she worked directly with your father—”

“Yeah, which means she’s fully aware of what a piece of shit he was,” I spit. “We covered that. Anyway, we’re going to have dinner sometime. So, you can take that off to Cillian for some extra credit. Oh, and she’s not practicing anymore.”

He frowns, nodding slowly. “Dinner…”

“Yes, Castle. Dinner. You know, food. Evening meal. Is that a problem?”

He starts the car. Then he pauses and turns to me with a curious expression. “Why did you tell me?”

“What?”

“You said before it was just an old friend. You could have stuck with that and never once mentioned that was Gail Thompson.”

“Yes, I could have, except—spoiler—I’m not the O’Conor spy you and Hades seem to think I am. So why the fuck wouldn’t I tell you who that was?”

He frowns.

“Trust is EARNED, Una,” I grunt in a deep voice, mimicking him.

“I don’t sound like that.”

“I’ve got sad news for you, pal.”

He snorts, shaking his head with a grin as he pulls out into traffic. “Great, just what I need. Another mouth like Neve and Eilish.”

“Oh, I’m way worse than them.”

He laughs as we drive off. I smile, turning to grin out the window as the city rolls past.

I’m starting to like this whole “normalcy with a family” thing.

A lot.

Maybe too much.