NEW RELEASE! Ruthless Heart

CLICK HERE: https://amazon.com/dp/B0CKJ7ZYZT

Ruthless Heart: An Age Gap Mafia Romance

I'm the only one who doesn't know who he is...

He's the sort of man you fantasize about. Gorgeous, strong, successful. But the Celtic tattoo on his hand is a clue that there's more to him than meets the eye.

Liam Callahan is one of the most powerful men in Boston. A boss in the Irish Mafia. I'm too naive to suspect. At first. On a night when I’m in danger, he saves me, and our connection is instantaneous. I'm innocent, but he knows what he wants and takes it.

When I learn one of his terrible secrets, I feel betrayed. I also become a target.

With a Mafia vendetta looming, I learn I'm pregnant. Now what I need to do is crystal clear… Run. Disappear. Don't tell him a thing.

EXCERPT

Chapter 1

OLIVIA

I bite down on my lower lip as I glance in the rearview mirror. The glare of headlights causes my heart to pound harder.

When I left Belton Community College after my six-to-nine pm psychology class, I spotted a man loitering near the parking lot. He was tall and thin with wiry hair and a build to match. Probably around forty, with greasy waves hanging down over his forehead and flopping into his eyes as he moved. He followed me out through the parking gate, and he’s been riding my tailpipe for miles. At least, I think it’s still him. It’s dark, and with lane switches, I’m not completely sure. But if it’s not him, all the drivers tonight are following much too close.

The low pressure alert for my tires dings, and I nearly come out of my skin. Is that a coincidence? Or did the creepy guy do something to my car? I'm afraid to pull onto the side of the highway.

With a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel, I exit the expressway at a familiar exit. The cafe where I used to work is closed at this time of night, but there’s an Irish Bar called Four Leaf that’s always busy. 

The tire alarm becomes louder and more insistent. And the car pulls to the right, causing me to wince.  

I need to stop now. I’m on a tight budget and buying a new tire would ruin the month.

Leaning forward, I stare straight ahead at the dark street and drive faster than is legal. As soon as I turn left onto Carelton Avenue, I see lights that blaze like a beacon, shining up at a four-leaf clover sign.

My tire starts to make a flapping sound. I slow to a stop farther away from the door than I’d like. A dark van approaches at highway speeds. It’ll be on me in seconds. 

Get out. Run!

As I jump from the car, I take nothing but my keys. My cheap white sandals slap against the concrete, and I hear loud breathing. A quick look over my shoulder reveals the man—it is him—jogging after me. Chasing me!

“Hey, your tire’s flat. You need a hand?” His tone is casual, as if he can’t see that I’m terrified.

“No,” I say breathlessly, sprinting the final ten feet to the door.

His footfalls are fast. He’s right behind me as I wrench the door open and fling myself inside. The ankle strap of my sandal snaps, and I stumble forward into a waitress. It upsets a tray of drinks, causing a tidal wave of beer and liquor to splash over the front of me.

I gasp as I crash down to my hands and knees.

From behind me, the guy’s hand grabs my shoulder.

He’s got me! But I’m here. He can’t just drag me out, can he?

My heart feels as though it’ll pound out of my chest as his fingers tighten. I jerk my shoulder and scramble forward until I ram into a pair of legs that are clad in dark gray trousers.

From above me, there’s a voice that’s smooth and deep, with a faint Irish accent. “What’s this then?”

I look up, and I’m stunned. Oh, my God. It’s him. The man I fantasize about. 

Staring up at his gorgeous face through my lashes, I mouth the words, “Help me.”

He’s blond and broad-shouldered. For a moment, his hard expression scares me, but then a large hand reaches down to gently touch my head as he moves around me, taking a position between me and my pursuer.

My head drops, and for a moment, all I can do is pant to catch my breath. When I look up, I realize half the bar is staring at me.

I clamber to my feet, shaky. I turn just in time to see the man who chased me rush out of the bar. Two men stand near the door and glance at the blond man in the dark trousers. He inclines his head, and they head out into the night, presumably to be sure the man leaves.

When the handsome man turns, his expression is dark.

“Sorry,” I whisper, crossing my arms over my chest where my sundress is wet and practically transparent.

His dark blue eyes take me in, from my straight blond hair and thin frame to my dirty knees and broken shoe. 

“Not a thing to be sorry about. The day I regret seeing a pretty girl at my feet is the day I best take to my grave.” The grim words are spoken so low that it takes a moment for them to register. At least he thinks I’m pretty.

My gaze drops to the dirt on my knees. I’m a complete mess. “I should go.”

“Nah, you should wait a bit. Give the regulars a chance to make sure the coast is clear. Then I’ll walk you to your car myself.”

“I have a flat tire… the guy might have done it.” I shake my head as my words tumble out. I’m still rattled.

“You’re all right now,” he says, putting a hand on my lower back and stepping closer. 

The heat from his body is so welcome it’s like collapsing in front of a fireplace on the night of a blizzard. 

I’ve seen him around the neighborhood often. He’s so gorgeous, but he never looks approachable. Too handsome. Too serious. Often engaged in what seem to be important business conversations.

Once though, there was a mom dealing with an issue with her newborn’s stroller, so she didn’t realize her toddler was heading right toward the street. This man had been on the phone when he spotted the little girl. He’d dropped his phone and darted forward to catch the toddler as she fell headfirst off the curb. He’d kept her from what I’m sure would’ve been a nasty cut since the remains of a broken bottle were in the gutter. The man’s trousers were sliced open from his landing, but the little girl never touched the ground. She was startled but completely unhurt.

Anytime I saw him on the street afterward, I wished he would come into the cafe, so I’d have a chance to meet him. This, though, is not the way I’d envisioned things going. I feel like I seem like a toddler falling down a curb, when I want him to see me as a woman.

“Come and have a drink with me,” he says, his serious expression unwavering. “We’ll get everything sorted out after.”

I lick my dry lips. “I should probably call for road service now. They can take hours sometimes. Except—” I glance down at my hands. One of my palms has an angry red knot from where I landed on my keys. “I jumped out of my car without my purse or my phone.”

“What’s your name?” He asks, leaning closer. The scents of smoke and masculine soap hit me all at once. He smells so good.

“Olivia.” I lick my lips nervously. “Liv.”

“Liam.” 

The hand on my back guides me deeper into the bar. “There’s no need to call road service or anyone else, Olivia. I’ve got you.”

* * *

LIAM

Young is my first thought. Maybe too young.  I’m twenty-nine, and the girl is, well… maybe a teenager. Until I establish whether she’s legal, my hungry eyes need to stay off her pretty little tits and their pointed nipples. 

With a jerk of my head, I signal for my brother to clear out of the booth. Aiden is a semi truck rounding a corner as he emerges, the sight of his size alone clears a path. He pauses a few feet from the booth to give the girl’s back a look before giving me a longer, more pointed one. It was only an hour ago that I gave him a caution about getting too chummy with the very young sister of a dangerous man we know. And now here I am, interested in someone innocent and barely out of high school. At least I hope she is. 

The difference is, this girl doesn’t have a cold-blooded killer with a marksman’s aim as her older brother. If she did, she wouldn’t be crawling across a pub floor begging strangers for help.

My suit coat is hanging from a hook. I grab it and hold it out to her. It’s summer, but the bar’s kept cool since it’s always full of people who’ve had glasses of fire poured down their throats in the form of whisky or whatever poison they’ve chosen for the night.

Liv’s pretty brows crinkle at the jacket, and she draws back. “It looks expensive. The beer will ruin it.”

My hand bobs insistently. “Come on. My clothes have seen worse than a little Guinness. And if it can’t stand up to that, well then, I’m due for new threads.”

A smile that’s like sunrise appears. “I love your accent.” She slips her arms into the sleeves which hang past her fingers. “Are you from Ireland?”

“In a way. My parents are. I was born here but spent a lot of time over there.” I don’t add the reason I was shipped over on more than one occasion was because I got in too much trouble locally, and the family thought it best that I go and knock about with relatives a good deal tougher than my aging father had become. The uncles in Ireland were quick to knock our heads together when my brother Aiden and I stepped out of line. Of course, their idea of stepping out of line was fairly limited, which I’m not sure my mother realized.

“Where were you headed tonight?” I ask.

Long strands of white blond hair fall over her shoulder. “Home to my apartment. I have a night class at BCC.”

“Night school?”

“No,” she says with a little chuckle. “College. My other two summer classes are Tuesdays and Thursdays during the day, but I have one six-to-nine on Wednesdays. That was the only time it was offered in summer.”

“So you’re going to school year-round?”

“Yes. Trying to get as many of the prerequisites out of the way at Belton Community College before I transfer to a university. It’ll save me a lot of money in the long run.”

“Hmm. And what year are you in?”

“Freshman. I’ll be a sophomore once fall semester starts.”

“And that makes you how old?”

“Nineteen.”

Thank Christ because I’m not completely sure I would’ve been able to resist even if she’d been seventeen. My eyes drop to her pale pink lips, which are the color of bubblegum. I wonder how they would look wrapped around my cock. 

“Good,” I say.

“Is it?”

My brows rise slowly. Can she be this innocent? And why is that thought more enticing than it’s ever been? 

“You look like you could be under eighteen, and that would’ve been a shame.”

“Because?” Her lovely brown eyes are wide, but I think she realizes what I’m getting at and just wants to hear me say it.

“Because you would be too young for me to take home tonight.”

Her pretty mouth falls open. “Take me home? That’s fast.” Her light chuckle is half nervous, half amused, and I like the way pink rises in her cheeks. She’s as fresh as a berry still on the vine. And I could definitely use a taste of that.

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