3

Niccolò

I’ve been on the streets long enough to know that Sean is a bully, and he is leering at the bartender. She wears a gold-plated name tag with Siobhan printed on it.

“I take it your name is Siobhan?” I ask the friendly woman. She has light brown freckles over the bridge of her nose, and her eyes are emerald-like those of the rolling green hills of Ireland.

I’m not in the mood to talk because I’m miserable, but I am concerned about the undercurrents I’m picking up between her and Sean. She’s afraid of him. I saw him follow her into the kitchen several times tonight, which seems inappropriate. She stays clear of him as he returns to the bar, and she only talks to him when she has to.

“Yes, that’s my name, why?”

I’ve been listening to people refer to the obnoxious man running his mouth at the end of the bar as Sean. He’s a crude man. He’s not someone I would trust. He thinks too much of himself to be a team player. He appears to be a loner, and not in a good way. He’s alone because no one wants to be around him for long, so he’ll talk to anyone who will listen.

“Sean gives you problems?” I glance at her face, and she’s stunned into silence.

Her reaction tells me everything she won’t say, but her body tells me as her shoulders slump with defeat.

“I have to go check the kitchen,” she states as she turns and leaves. I can’t miss her curvy hips and long legs, and I’m miffed that pants cover them. For me, there is nothing sexier than a woman who walks with a sway to her hips and toned legs to wrap themselves around me as I fuck her silly. I’m disappointed that her work clothes cover her entire body.

Her strawberry blonde hair is redder than blonde. I don’t know why they use the terms that combine red and blonde; they are two distinct colors. I digress over the semantics of her hair, and I’ve not taken notice of a woman for months.

“That wasn’t much of an answer, was it?” Carlos says, taking the last bite of his dinner.

“No, I don’t like the looks of that character at the end of the bar. He’s up to no good.” Obviously, Sean harasses her. I see her giving signals she’s putting herself out of his reach, but she doesn’t retaliate.

“Look, it’s not your problem. You can’t afford to get involved in issues that don’t involve you. You can’t risk getting injured so close to the fight.”

  “I know,” I snap.

What he doesn’t know is that I’m overly sensitive to innocent women being used by men. She’s not wearing a ring to state she is engaged or married. I assume she’s friends with the other waitress, but she can’t help her with her problem. She can only hope she’s not the next victim. I know what will happen if someone doesn’t interfere.

  “You should leave it alone. You never know who owns what around town,” Carlos adds as he makes conversation, and I play out possible scenarios for the situation in my head. He’s right. Unless the man moves on her, I can’t help her. I can’t provoke someone on a hunch.

I know,” I agree. I pick up on the fact that he’s suggesting syndicates and mobsters. Organized criminals don’t hang signs on their property announcing who they are. We’re expected to recognize other players because I’m in a crime organization. We have to discern who can be touched and who can’t. A confrontation usually comes with a warning before boundaries are crossed.

“That was great food. I’m partial to Italian and sushi,” I mention to Carlos to throw him off of my interest in the redhead.

  I vowed never to marry, but I don’t have an issue with taking a casual lover. A hookup wouldn’t be in my life long. If I don’t fall in love with a woman, she can’t die of the Borrelli curse. It’s also one less person to worry about should we have a war with another family.

There is a certain worldliness that a woman exhibits when they are sexually active.

Experienced women know how to flirt. Women will flip their hair over their shoulders to send an alluring look to le men know that they are interested. They also know how to banter using sexual undertones and perhaps lean over the bar to make her interest known.

Women who are conscious of their sexuality know what to say to make our cocks hard. They can turn a man on or shut him down. It’s a skill set Siobhan hasn’t developed. I find it odd that she’s not asking someone for help when there are so many people in this city. Is she used to being mistreated? Doesn’t she have any family to help her?

Siobhan’s innocence makes her more vulnerable to predators. Men who like to mistreat women have a nose for it. Sean sniffs the fear on her. It’s only a matter of time before he makes a move that has her cornered. Cunning men set the situation up in advance, knowing when she’ll be vulnerable. He’ll also pick a place where there will be no witnesses.

Anger rises in my chest. I hate men like him. I’m curious if her last name is McGuire, and maybe the pub is run by family. Sean could be a relative. I’m new to New York City and don’t know the players here like I do at home.

Siobhan returns and breezes past the bar to help the servers clear tables and wipe them down. Other workers perform the rituals of closing the pub, such as putting chairs up and marinating the ketchup and mustards to refill half-filled bottles. I worked in a restaurant as a teenager; I know a lot about running a restaurant.

The hair on the back of my neck raises when she’s close. How does that happen?

“Can I get you anything else?” her voice is sweet and comforting without forcing it. She takes our empty plates. She’s an empathetic person, I see it in her green eyes.

“I’m good, thank you, Siobhan,” Carlos says.

“I’m good, too,” I say.

“Great, I’ll be back with your tab.”

She disappears into the kitchen with a handful of dirty plates. From my peripheral vision, I observe Sean’s lecherous eyes follow her. He’s a tiger, and she’s a deer. It’s not a fair competition.

Siobhan returns to the cash register and places the bill before us. She begins to clean the beer taps. I throw bills down for the bar and toss in an extra fifty dollars. Carlos looks at me like I’m crazy.

“What? She’s nice, and she works hard,” I say.

“Man, a lot of folks do. You sure you’re not into her?” His eyebrows furrow, and I’m not sure how to answer. I’m still getting over Chiara’s death. A tiny part of me never wants to move on. I’m comfortable in my newfound misery and have channeled all of my emotions into boxing for the time being.

I shrug. “I’m nobody. I box. What kind of life is that for a woman, anyway?”

“Hey, you win against Ramirez, and plenty of people will be looking at you. You can make good money.” I know from his upbringing that money is security for him. It means he’ll have a roof over his head and food on his table. I respect that. My old man was a piece of shit, but we didn’t have to worry about being homeless or going hungry.

We leave before Siobhan returns. I say goodnight to Carlos as he walks to his Porsche. I look around the parking garage, and as I exit the gate, I have second thoughts about leaving the city. I want to make sure the cute bartender makes it to her car safely. She should be closing up and leaving soon. I’ll take a few minutes. Besides, no one is waiting for me to get home.

I pull my car behind the pub and turn off the headlights as rock music plays on my radio. I sit with my car idling to keep warm. I don’t feel comfortable leaving it parked on a street unless it’s in front of a high-end hotel or attended to by a valet.

Twenty minutes pass before I notice McGuire’s back door open. Siobhan looks like she’s saying goodnight to a co-worker, the blonde in the bar, who walks in the opposite direction.

“Never walk to your car alone,” I murmur as I watch her glance around and pull her coat closer. Her small hand moves over her purse strap to pull it up on her shoulder. She walks quickly with the key in hand toward an old Toyota parked in the alley filled with dumpsters and with bad lighting. It’s the perfect place for an attack. I doubt the old cameras over the back of the pub work.

Siobhan is within arm’s length of the car door. I assume I’m being overly zealous in my efforts. I’m about to turn my car into the alley when a large man suddenly appears out of nowhere. Like the coward he is, he must have been in the shadows behind the dumpster.

I recognize him as the drunk at the bar. He’s a large man, and his head is shaved. It looks like Sean was planning on a rape to be a fitting end to his evening. He grabs Siobhan by her hair and tosses her against the car. It looks like his lips are in her face but he’s too large for her to fend off.

I shut my car off and quietly exit my car as I close the door without a sound. I walk like a soldier on a mission to kill an enemy. I creep in the shadows toward him without a sound. I pause at the dumpster and listen.

“You little slut, you think you are too good for me,” he says as his face is too close to hers. Is he kissing her?  Her purse flies across the muddy road with potholes, and the contents fly out. The ground is littered with her possessions.

“Stop, Sean,” she yells. Her instincts kick in, and I witness her fist beating on his chest and trying to punch his face. She should have shoved her key in his eye. She’s tall but thin. Without training, her moves won’t be effective against a man of his girth and stature.

“You want me, and you know it,” Sean says. “You like that, you fucking whore?” he asks, pulling away and slapping my face with the back of his hand. “You like being treated like the piece of shit you are?”

Then he fumbles with his pants. He’s not wearing a jacket, and it’s another reason I used to deduct that he intended to attack her tonight. Otherwise, he would have worn a jacket, as it’s cold out this late at night. He was planning this for days, weeks, maybe months. Unbelievable. My stomach turns with the depravity of this man.

“I’m going to show you want it’s like to be fucked. You walk around the pub like you’re all that. You’re a cunt. You need a real man to put you in your place.”

Anger rises in my chest as I lurch from behind Sean. My fist is filled with furry. I spin him around to face me, planting my punch in his face. I spin him again, hit him with a right hook, and hear his nose break.

“Who the fuck are you? You can’t touch me. I’m a made man, and I own this street,” he mutters drunkenly. His words are slurred. Bright-red blood trickles from his nose. He swipes a hand across it to keep the blood from entering his mouth. He stands and takes a swing at me, and it grazes my ribs.

“You broke my nose. You’ll be sorry for that,” he yells as he lunges toward me again, trying to grab me with a hand to sucker punch me. He’s a rookie at this, and he’s out of shape, but he gets one punch as his arms are long.

I hit him in his gut. And hit him two more times as he doubles over.

“No, I won’t. But you’ve messed with the wrong woman,” I reply. I take his arm and twist it behind his back, forcing him to sink to his knees. I twist his arm further and wait until I hear it snap.

The cracking sound hits the cold air. It’s not enough of a punishment. He has to pay for threatening Siobhan and assaulting her. I snap a few of his fingers for good measure. I want to make sure he’ll never forget this.

“What do you want?” he croaks.

“Justice.”

“Who do you think you are? Batman?” he asks like a fool as he grabs his dangling arm and stumbles to his feet.

I look at Siobhan. She stands still and silent. She must be in shock.

“You’re not an honorable man. No man would take a woman against her will unless he’s desperate. You like making those around you feel small and weak. You should be put down like a rabid dog, the dog–—it’s for mercy. For you, it’s justice.”

“I’m under the protection of the O’Donnell Clan. You don’t know who you are messing with, boy,” he ekes out amid his pain as he nurses his arm and clutches it to his chest.

“Perhaps I don’t, but touch her again, and you die.” I do a roundhouse and kick him with my military boot, making sure I crack a few ribs as I do so.

He falls to the ground again and groans.

“I’ll get even with you,” he declares. Maybe the pain has brought him to his senses, but I doubt it. He’s always been this way, and he won’t change.

“Maybe, but not tonight,” I reply as I walk toward Siobhan.

“What did you do? That’s Sean. He’s one of my father’s men. He’ll make you pay—they all do—it’s just a matter of time,” Siobhan says. I see fear in her eyes, and she’s shaking. I pull her into my arms to console her. “You’re a marked man. The O’Donnells don’t like anyone in their business.”

“Well, he should have thought about that before he attempted to rape you.”

“I can’t go home. My father is coming to town and will hear about this. I won’t be safe.”

“Fine. Let’s pick up your stuff. I’ll take you to a hotel.”

“I don’t have money for one.”

“I have it covered.”

We pick up her items scattered in the wet street as Sean skunks into the dark night. I walk her to my sports car. I open the door, and she gets in. I pull the seat belt over her and click it into place before I close the door.

I slide behind the wheel and look at her lovely face under the starless night. A broken streetlight hangs in over us. She’s gorgeous. I’m surprised Sean waited this long to attack her. Maybe it’s not the first time.

I put the car in drive and hit the gas and clutch as I shift the car.

Minutes later, we’ve been checked in at a posh New York hotel. I walk Siobhan to her suite. I obtained two rooms.

“Take your time. I have my room. You’re safe tonight,” I say.

“Thank you,” she murmurs as she closes the door. I hear it lock. Good girl, she’s not trusting of me. Oddly, I find it comforting. God knows I’m not going to heaven.

I pick up the hotel phone and call room service. Twenty minutes later, food and a bottle of red wine are delivered.

I hear her door open, and Siobhan enters the living room dressed in the plush bathrobe.

“I feel naked,” she murmurs, and her face blushes.

I refrain from commenting. I can’t let my fascination with her distract me. But I do a once over of her damp hair curling from the shower. The robe leaves her milky white breasts peep out enough for me to feel my cock twitch and her legs are incredible. I force myself to look at her face in the light.

“Your cheek is red. Does it hurt?”

“Not really. Maybe a little.”

“Here, have a seat,” I say as I remain standing over the food cart.

I take a thick cloth napkin off the food tray and pull ice out of the wine bucket. I drop the ice chips into the cloth and wrap it.

“Here, put this on it.”

She takes the cloth filled with ice and presses it to her face. “It feels better. Damn, why did he have to do that?”

“He’s a coward. Real men don’t hit women.”

“Tell that to my father,” she replies with sarcasm.

I offer her wine.

“No, thank you. I don’t drink.”

“You need it to take the shock off.” I offer the glass to her again.

This time, she takes it and proceeds to take a sip, followed by another.

I help myself to the wine as well.

She remains seated on the sofa in the living room. I move closer but remain standing.

“How did you know?” Her hooded eyes slowly rise to meet mine.

“Call it an occupational hazard.” I lean against the wall by the huge window.

“Are you a cop?”

 “No. Far from it,” I chuckle.

“Then, who are you?”

“I’m many things but a boxer by trade. I saw how he looked at you at the pub. I knew he was trouble.”

“You have no idea,” she replies, taking another sip of the wine.

“What has he done to you?” I shouldn’t get involved any more than I am; however, I’m curious about the details.

“I’ve been bruised and held by my throat. He’s evil. My father is the head of the O’Donnell clan, and he’s arriving tonight from London.”

The wheels click in my head. Irish pub, O’Donnell’s, I recognize. They are out of the United Kingdom but are well-networked. Sean must have been referring to being a made man or whatever that is to them.

Fuck.

“Cillian O’Donnell?” I ask.

“Yes, do you know him?” Her emerald eyes flash to my face.

“No, but I will.”

She gives me a perplexed look and finishes the wine in her glass. I step forward and refill it.

“I hope you know what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“I do. Thanks for the heads-up,” I say, refilling my wine. “Eat something. You had a long day. You must be hungry.”

“I didn’t eat, and I am hungry.” She takes the compress off her face and puts it on the tray. She sets her wine on the end table and leans forward to take a metal covers off the plates in front of her. She grabs the cheeseburger with both hands and devours it.

I enjoy watching her eat. I doubt anyone has ever taken care of her. She’s a fighter. I can see it hidden under her seemingly passive presence. She takes her knocks from life but gets back up.

I notice her elegant neck, and her cleavage begins to show more as the robe gapes with her movement. I should look away but can’t pull my eyes from her pert nipple poking the robe perfectly and I desire to see more of her.

Her voluptuous breasts are perfect for my hands and my mouth. My cock hardens. I groan.

She looks at me immediately. “Are you hurt?”

“No, not from the fight.” I’d be pervert if I told her I found her to be stunning. I’m a pig because I can’t stop wondering what she looks like under the fluffy robe.

She wipes her hands on a napkin and drinks more wine.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes,” I reply gruffly as I turn to face the city streets below.

“Well, fine,” is her retort.

“Fine,” I reply back. When my cock has settled down to semi-hard, I turn to find she’s finished eating. It’s time for me to focus on damage control. “Go get some rest. I’ll make sure you’re safe. Tomorrow is another day.”

She stands. “I never got to say a real thank you.  So, thank you, Niccoló.” She lifts the wine glass off the end table, and as she passes the coffee table, she sweeps the bottle of wine off it as she passes by.

I stifle my chuckle as I watch her walk to her bedroom suite. She enters her room, turns to give me one last look, and closes the door behind her. I hear it lock and click into place.

. She understands self-preservation and still doesn’t trust me. I’m not offended. It’s best if we don’t complicate the night with her losing her innocence. That would really piss her father off.

It’s late, but I call Matteo.

“There might be a wrinkle in your meeting tomorrow.”