I never dwelled on what-ifs, especially when it came to my past. Unlike many adopted kids who spent a lifetime wondering what their lives would have looked like had they not been given up, I never cared because it was pointless. The past was the past. Move the fuck on.
I hadn’t questioned my life before, and learning the identity of my birth mother changed nothing. If anything, it only confirmed that I was exactly the man I was meant to be. Whether Italian or Irish, I was meant to thrive on the wrong side of the law.
My moral compass was faulty from birth, and more to the point, I liked it that way.
Guilt was a pointless emotion suffered by the weak.
I knew my mind and owned my actions so that I could walk through life with confidence. When I agreed to Jimmy’s request that I marry an Italian, I committed to that decision. I hadn’t known at the time how deep I’d dive into that commitment, but something inside me snapped at the sight of Shae with Noemi.
I didn’t just want to fuck my fiancée; I wanted all of her.
Her body and submission. Her trust and compliance. Even her fiery temper and sarcasm.
All of it was mine, and I wasn’t about to share.
Shae wasn’t a true threat. She never would have infringed on my territory if she’d known how I felt. She sure as shit did now, though. Not that it would stop her from pushing my buttons. She always had, like the way she called me Reid when no one else dared. I’d shut that down years ago—it highlighted that I wasn’t a Byrne. No one else got away with that shit, but Shae was like a sister. A gorgeous bisexual sister who was just as good at snagging the hottest girl in the room as she was at leveling her competition in the boxing ring. Uncle Brody had taught her well.
While my brain knew she wouldn’t dare steal what was mine, the archaic animal in me had been livid. I hated seeing them together and was nearly homicidal at the sight of their hands touching. It was intimate and suggested a degree of closeness between the two that enraged me.
Jealousy wasn’t my thing. I’d never wanted a woman enough to be jealous.
But what had bothered me more than anything was the way Noemi’s face had crumpled when I told her she was the only one I wanted. It was as if the thought of our marriage being more than a professional arrangement had crushed her.
I’d had to get her out of there fast before I said or did something I would regret. Like guilt, I wasn’t a fan of regret, but I’d been dangerously close to lashing out and hating myself for it later.
There was no way this consuming need that I felt was one-sided. If I was stuck with this suffocating feeling of infatuation, she sure as hell was going to feel it, too. I would strip her bare, body and soul, to prove to her just how thoroughly she belonged to me. I’d do whatever it took.
If I had to walk this treacherous path, I wasn’t doing it alone.
But Noemi was guarded. I would have to use just the right amount of force and seduction to keep from scaring her away. That had been the one surety holding my control intact. The second she was gone, I got in my car and drove straight to the gym. If I didn’t work out some of the homicidal energy festering inside me, I would explode.
As usual, Bishop was already there bullshitting with some of the guys. He ended his conversation as soon as he saw me and jogged over.
“Hey, man. I was just going to call you. Got that info you wanted back from my guy.”
I slung my gym tote over my shoulder and lifted my chin for him to continue.
“I ran through everything. Her school record and extracurriculars looked pretty standard. There was only one thing in the whole file that stood out to me, but it could be nothing.”
“Tell me.”
“Her medical records showed a broken collarbone and other contusions from the car wreck that killed her mom, but there was no real damage to her throat. A bruise from the seat belt but no physiological explanation for her loss of voice. The doc even had a note mentioning possible emotional trauma as a factor and said he recommended counseling to her father but didn’t go into more detail because she was technically an adult, and that would have been breaking confidentiality laws. I read all through the accident report, and everything seemed legit. The investigator wasn’t one of our guys, but nothing looked dodgy. Like I said, it may be nothing. Just thought I’d bring it up before I sent the file your way.”
Trauma. The crash couldn’t have been easy to process, but the woman I knew was far from traumatized. If her silence wasn’t physiological, what was the reason? Why would she go six months without a word, and why would her father accept her condition without question?
Something didn’t add up, and I was ready for an explanation.
“That’s great work, Bishop.” I clapped my hand on his shoulder. “I’ll get changed and meet you in the ring.”
“Let me rough you up a little, and we’ll call it even.” He flashed a megawatt grin.
“In your dreams, asshole.” I gave him a quick jab to the gut and ducked away toward the locker room when he swung in retaliation.
My shitty day was feeling marginally better. I still needed to blow off some steam in the ring, but I wasn’t quite so bloodthirsty. My focus had turned to strategy rather than annihilation. It was time to make the caged bird sing, one way or another.
