Chapter 1

Jack

“It’s a nice house,” Jimmy grumbles, peering up at the beautiful brownstone, the bricks glowing in the yellow light of the street lamps. I grunt in acknowledgment, staring down at the folder in my lap. “I bet it’d cover her debt if she sells it to us, Boss.”

“Good thing I don’t pay you to calculate the odds, Jimmy,” I say listlessly. “Do you think someone with this kind of debt, whether it’s her father’s or her own, can afford the inside of that place? No, it most likely needs a lot of work. Let’s go in before you break out the money clip.”

“I only skimmed her file,” He replies, and I glance over as he grins saucily. “She’s got a nice rack.”

“Yeah,” I agree distractedly. I’m not interested in her looks; just about the fact that Heather Lewis owes a quarter million dollars courtesy of her father’s horrendous gambling habit.

The damn bastard even had the audacity to die before making amends. I’m sure I could have found a pricey, shady lawyer I had dirt on — there are numerous legal issues he could have handled for me that would have reduced his debt. “There is not much in here from before 5 years ago, though. This was all your guy could dig up on her?”

Jimmy hums as I hold up the thin folder, displeasure twisting my expression. “Nothing else?”

“Her mother died. There is nothing really from high school. The only thing I found that goes that far back is the obituary, but otherwise… it’s really unremarkable. Heather Lewis moved here after that, taking a gap year between high school and college. She worked at a pet store,” Jimmy shrugs.

“Normal stuff. She’s got no credit cards and a mountain of student loan debt, but she graduated with honors. Got a job at a nice, private elementary school. Honestly, Boss, I don’t know if she’s even worth going after. We should go after Frankie. He won’t be that easy to find, but we know he’s got money, and he’s not exactly in your good book right now, Boss.”

“We’ll see. You’re right, though. Keep up the search,” I slide the folder between the driver’s seat and the center console before removing the keys from the ignition. Jimmy steps out of the passenger seat, and I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

“We should go after Frankie, but since I can’t find him fast enough, his sister will have to do.”

My whisper escapes through the crack in the door as I open it, and climb out. Heather Lewis’ brownstone is large, regal, and expensive, just like the others on this street. However, there are no flowers in the front beds. When I go inside, I’m sure there will be some damage that she can’t afford to repair.

But that’s fine. There are various non-monetary ways to repay a debt.

“What about the roommate? Is he home?” I ask Jimmy, and he nods as we take the steps up to the entrance. Rapping on the door, I don’t have to wait long for the light pounding of footfall on the hardwood. A man, presumably the roommate, opens the door looking disheveled, and suspicion immediately narrows his gaze. He’s in pajama pants and nothing else, and his body odor wafts towards me when he raises his arm to lean on the doorframe. “Is Heather Lewis home?”

“No, she won’t be back for another hour, at least. You want me to give her a message?” He asks.

He’s inconsequential, regardless. Waving a hand in dismissal, I shake my head.

“No, I’m perfectly capable of doing that myself,” I respond before unceremoniously punching the man in the gut. He groans, doubling over as the wind’s knocked out of him. Shock widens his eyes when they meet mine, and Jimmy steps around me to enter the house. “We’ll wait here, thanks.”

“You’re such an ass, boss,” Jimmy says with a snigger, shoulder-checking the guy. Is he the boyfriend or the roommate? But wait… the boyfriend’s in Europe, so this is probably her roommate. “This is the roommate. He’s a loser. Skips rent and doesn’t pay for his own food. Poor Heather’s browser history is chock-full of searches about eviction laws. We should do her a favor, aye?” Added Jimmy.

“I’ll think about it once I’ve met her,” I reply while my best lackey produces a used roll of duct tape from a clip on his belt. I smirk; Jimmy’s always prepared. “Put him in the basement and start looking. Knowing the old man’s type, maybe he’s got a stash somewhere. I’ll start in the attic and make my way down.”

“Aye, aye, Capitano,” Jimmy says, not looking up from the paralyzed body underneath him. I wander through the living room which takes up the entire first floor. Separated into three sections, the paint on the walls changing with each one, I step into what seems to be a sitting area. Wrapping around the corner is an office, but it’s obviously empty of anything Heather doesn’t want to be broken or stolen. Clicking my heel against the hardwood, I grunt lowly at the lack of creaking and solidness underneath me.

“Maybe, I was wrong,” I mutter to myself with curiosity. I take the stairs that climb the far wall of the office space to get to the second floor. The banister is sturdy, and none of the steps groan under my weight. As I reach the second floor, the neutral color of the wall to my right abruptly changes to a soft, light green. My mind races as I open doors, a closet, and then a bathroom in search of Heather’s room.

She could have more roommates if she wanted, to pay off her student loans faster. Of course, with a first experience like the man downstairs, she wouldn’t want to take any chances. Heather’s house is in excellent condition, but the student loans she owes make it impossible for her to sell it. She’d end up homeless.

“Jimmy mentioned that she plans on securing the job at the school.” When I reach a locked door, my mutter morphs into a hiss of excitement, and I grin to myself.

I take out a lockpicking set from my slacks pocket — I open the door and enter Heather’s room. When I turn on the lights, the pale lavender walls feel soothing and bright. “Hmm.”

I walk to the corner door and open it to reveal an ensuite bathroom. I shut the door again, disinterested, and return my gaze to the other door across the room. I circle the neatly made bed and peer into the closet. Pushing aside stylish dresses and shirts, disappointment twists my expression. “No safe in the closet.”

Heather Lewis’ old man had left her a fully paid-off brownstone in one of Boston’s more affluent neighborhoods. There’s no reason to think he didn’t leave her other assets. Perhaps he had a will that stated she couldn’t access her inheritance, which is why she’s struggling? I walk over to her dresser and pull open the top drawers.

There are a few letters tucked under her socks, all of which are very old and have clearly been read and reread hundreds of times. Sandra… must be Heather’s mother. I carefully tuck the letters back under her socks before opening the next drawer. The depths are devoted to lingerie, and I rummage to the bottom and find a small, plain box.

“If I was hiding assets,” I mumble, setting the box on the top of the dresser. “Sentimentals go under the socks. Money goes under the underwear.”

I pause as I open the box, my lips parting in surprise. Inside are a pair of fluffy purple handcuffs, a decent-sized cock ring, and a purple vibrator. I smirk and roll my jaw thoughtfully as I close it and place it back in the drawer.

Heather Lewis, it appears, is much more than meets the eye. A photo from her file in my car comes to mind. She may look plain, but there must be more to her personality than that. Her luscious mahogany hair conceals a sharp mind, and her soft, round face could get away with murder.

Heather’s got the body most women spend thousands of dollars for; she’s busty, curvy in all the right places, and tall. Tall enough to wear her firm build with grace and ease. I tense when I hear what sounded like Jimmy punching the roommate to silence his muffled cries. I shake off my thoughts, clear my throat, and redirect my mind.

No point in fantasizing about Heather until after I’ve already met her.

“Her clothes are nice, well-worn,” I open each drawer, searching for more hidden items, but there are none. “If Jimmy’s search was thorough, she doesn’t have any lockboxes. If there are any hidden assets…”

I stroke my jaw thoughtfully as I look around the room. Everything I see is nice but old; Heather takes care of her possessions and is willing to invest in what will last. It shows forethought for the future as well as the attention required to care about that kind of shit. Heather seems like an adventurous lady, but not excessively. She is a teacher, so she can probably handle a lot at once.

“I’m getting excited about this woman,” I mutter with a slight grin. I step out of the room and open the door across the hall. Clothes are strewn across the floor, and a small coffee table in the center of the room has a pile of paper plates with old food on it. “Roommate,” I mumble with disgust.

Heading back downstairs, I find Jimmy walking up from the basement, and he throws his thumb over his shoulder. “Nothing in the kitchen or dining room, Boss. What about you?”

“You know, Jimmy,” I start, leaning against the back of the sofa to cross my arms over my chest. He arches a brow quizzically. “The problem… with the innocent-looking is that most of the time, they’re not so innocent. There is much more to this woman than a plain face and a nice rack.”

“Aye?” He questions with a slight smirk. I nod, inhaling deeply through my nose and holding my breath. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with your uncle, does it? Thinking that just to spite him?”

“My uncle was a bleeding heart for innocent faces,” I growl, with a disgusted grimace. “He might’ve taught me much of what I know now, but the most important lesson was unintentional. No matter the debt, no matter the crime… everyone is an opportunity. Despite all he was, my uncle didn’t understand that no one is innocent if we’re involved. The Irish Mafia isn’t something you simply stumble upon.”

“Feels like you’ve got a plan in mind for this… Heather Lewis,” Jimmy alludes, and I nod again with a soft sigh. He runs his hand through his hair, looking around the house in admiration. “I’d buy up this place in a heartbeat if you wanna wrest it from her. I’d pay her whole debt for it, and I have no doubt it’s worth multiple millions.”

“I don’t,” I answer, and Jimmy’s face falls in obvious disappointment. “I have something else in mind, though. Maybe you’ll get the chance to negotiate if Heather can’t hack it.”

“She’ll be back in about twenty minutes, that is if what the roommate said is accurate,” Jimmy replies, checking his watch. “So, I guess we’ll find out.”

Chapter 2

Heather

“Hey, Google. Call ‘Carrie.’” I demand, and my phone in my lap buzzes briefly before replying in a mechanical voice.

“Hello? Aren’t you up a little late for a school night?” Carrie asks, her voice bright and happy.

I ball up the used pad. Tossing it into the cup holder, I tap the ‘speaker’ button on my phone. “Oh, Mike’s back tonight, right?”

“He broke up with me,” Carrie squeaks in surprise to my flat response. Sighing and rubbing my brown eyes with my fists, I lean back in my seat with a thud. “He wasn’t even gonna tell me if I hadn’t shown up. He was just gonna ghost me! That lying, cheating jerk said he fell in love with someone else while in Spain for only two months!”

“Wow, no way!” Carrie exclaims, and I nod to myself with a grimace. “What happened?”

“I just— I wanted to punch him so badly, but I just turned and walked away,” I answer, clenching my hands into tight fists in my lap. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and let out a bleak groan. “Carrie!”

“I don’t blame you. That’s a dick move. What a jerk!” says Carrie, anger and revolt visible in her voice.

“But you know, not to be harsh about it, you two weren’t exactly in the throes of passion, Heather,” Carrie points out, and I pull my seatbelt over me with clammy palms. She never fails to see both sides of things, I am so grateful for her at times like this.

She’s got a point. I glance at my reflection in the vizor before pushing it up and turning over my car.

“Mike was a safe option. I’m not saying you two didn’t care about each other, and Mike trying to screw you over is wrong, but… are you being honest with yourself about why it sucks?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, twisting to back out of my space and weave my way down through the parking structure. “I liked him well enough, Carrie. And maybe we did lack a little in the passion department, but that was fine with me.”

“It obviously wasn’t fine with him, though,” Carrie’s remark hits me in the chest, and a grim scowl forms on my face. “You’re not even heartbroken about it. I can hear it in your voice. Yeah, you’re mad and feel betrayed, but you’re not sad.”

“I’ll get sad eventually,” I whisper, and Carrie snorts in disbelief. My mouth dries as I shake my head, taking a wide turn to the ground floor. “Anyway, you’re not helpful, so I’m gonna hang up now.”

“Wait!” she shouts, and I clench my jaw as my attention splits between her and the signs directing me out of the concrete maze. “Just eat some ice cream and watch Schindler’s List or something. You’ll be okay, Heather.”

Cracking a smirk at Carrie’s soft tone, I inhale as much air as I can through my nose as affection worms through my veins. “Thanks, Carrie. I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Sure! I have some meetings about this piece I’m writing, but I should be able to answer your call.” We say our goodbyes and hang up, and I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, straightening my arms out.

Carrie is right. Before I know it, I’ll be over Mike. All I need is some ice cream and heartreaking movies.

I hit the back door of my car with my hip while hoisting my paper bag full of snacks that I ran to get my myself right after the call with Carrie. Her advice was more helpful than expected; even going shopping for junk food I don’t usually eat was exhilarating. It took my mind off my heartbreak for a while.

“I need to find a gut-wrenching movie to watch,” I say to myself as I take the steps towards my house. “Maybe Marley and Me. That’s always a tear-jerker. Hell, I might even go hard and order some Chinese takeout. There is nothing better than grease to ease the pain.”

I stop at the entrance and poise my key, only to pause. The door is ajar, and irritation courses through my veins. Damn, Liam, leaving the fucking door open now! What a lazy bum! I grimace and grab the curved brass handle, pushing open the barrier and kicking it closed behind me. When I look over, the television is on, but Liam is nowhere to be found. I walk over to the sofa and grab the remote to lower the volume.

My attention is drawn to the reality drag racing show that Liam watches religiously. As I stare at the television, I am filled with dread. He refused to get up during the show, even during commercials.

And the door was open…

As I slowly exit the living room, alarm bells go off in my head. I take my phone from my purse and turn to leave, only to be stopped by a strange man who is blocking the front door. Goosebumps cover my arms and chest, tensing them. My mind wanders, the blood draining from my face as critical, moss green eyes scrutinize me. His chiseled jaw moves slowly, framing a tanned, long face etched with seriousness.

“Don’t… even think about it,” The man growls, and my heart leaps into my throat. “Put the phone down.”

My palms grow cold and sweaty as I slowly bend down, not taking my gaze away from the man, to place my phone on the floor. I clench my jaw as the silence drums in my ears. This man is no ordinary burglar. Without a doubt. Otherwise, why is he still here, and why has nothing been touched?

“You know who I am?” He asks, and I shake my head mutely. His grave face morphs curiously as he arches a brow. Through his trimmed stubble, his slight smirk is extremely apparent. This man… isn’t trying to hide anything. “You’re not going to try to run?”

“You’d catch me,” I answer, my voice unstable, and I grimace at the satisfied glint in the man’s eyes. “Would it make you feel better if I did?”

“What a strange question. If anything, I should be asking you that, Heather,” He says, and I suck in a sharp breath. Although, part of me knows I shouldn’t be surprised. The way he’s just in my house, he must know more about me than I do about him. “Would it make you feel better if you tried to run? Making an effort to escape? Maybe you could do it….”

“You know my name, probably where I work and the places I hang out,” I reply pointedly. The sensation of surrealism washes over me; I’m having such a civil conversation with someone who broke into my house? For real? I shake my head. “What do you want? Why’re you here?”

“My name is Jack Murphy, and I’ve wanted to meet you for a while,” he says calmly and my stomach clenches in fear. I fucking knew it! Jack Murphy, Jack Murphy… I can’t help but think I’ve heard that name somewhere before. “As for what I want… you, Heather. I want you.”

I shivered as I hear his name. I’d heard rumors and they weren’t all that innocent. I have never been one to listen to gossip, but if they were true, then this guy was a known mobster and that was definitely something I didn’t want to know for myself. I can’t let him see my worries thought. “Well, unfortunately for you, I’m off the market.” I snap, crossing my arms defensively over my chest.

Jack saunters toward me with a cocky grin on his face. Backing up, I can only get so far before my legs collide with the sofa table behind me. He reaches out a hand, and I hold my breath as he quickly grabs my shoulder and pushes me onto the couch. Even though his touch is feather soft, I can feel the heat of his palm through my shirt as I look up at him in a daze.

“Have a seat. We need to chat,” Jack’s declaration swirls around me as I shuffle to the far end of the sofa, the furthest I can get from him. He perches on the coffee table, clasping his hands on his knees and resting his chin on his fingers. His eyes bore into mine, searching, and he frowns.

“You moved here with your father after your mother died, yes? “Did you know about his exorbitant gambling addiction?” he inquired.

Gambling addiction? Pulling my knees up to my chin, I shake my head even as memories beat against the backs of my eyes. That makes sense…

“My dad?” I ask. Jack nods, tilting his brows at me expectantly. My mouth dries as I try to think. “Uh, uh… he was a lawyer, and just— judging by what he left me in his will, not a very good one. Even this house… it was my grandmother’s— his mother’s. This gambling addiction of his…How exorbitant are we talking about?”

“Do you know how much he owes me? A quarter million dollars.” Jack replies.

“Oh, God!” I squawk in shock, quickly covering my mouth and nose. My eyes flutter in surprise, slightly watering, but Jack simply stares at me evenly. Panic floods my system, causing my mind to race at a breakneck pace. “Are— are these legal loans? Or is it more of an IOU situation? I don’t have that kind of money, and if you’re some kind of shady, illicit loan shark—”

My words dry on my tongue when Jack throws back his head and laughs. Genuine merriment spills from his mouth, his smile wide and the sides of his eyes crinkling as they lock on me. I blink quickly, tightening my grip on my knees.

“Oh, you can’t be serious, Heather,” Jack chuckles, waving his hand in dismissal. “Of course, that doesn’t matter. I’m shocked by what your mind went to. I am decidedly a shady, illicit loan shark. With your father dead, the unfortunate situation has fallen on your shoulders.”

“What if I tell you to fuck off?” I ask cautiously, and Jack’s grin widens. He’d have a beautiful smile if he wasn’t so creepy. I nervously lick my lips, and his gaze darts down briefly. “W— what if I just run away and go into hiding? Or kill me?”

“At least hear me out before you get all desperate, Heather,” Jack chides in a soft, almost soothing tone. I gulp harshly as his voice prickles up my arms and shins. He takes a deep breath and raises two fingers. “You have two options here. I can use you until I feel you’ve repaid his debt.”

Jack pauses when my phone starts vibrating loudly against the hardwood. He waits, allowing his first option to sink into my bones. I can’t believe what he’s saying. He’d pimp me out? I had no idea how I was going to make a quarter million dollars like that! He nods and draws my attention when my phone stops.

“Or, you can, more or less, willingly work for me.” Jack concludes. The silence pierces my ears, and each option he presents me with races through my brain. He’s threatening to force me into prostitution if I don’t accept being at his beck and call? Those are both dreadful options!

But, then again, they’re supposed to be bad. The one Jack prefers is simply less bad.

“What if I sold you my house? That would cover it and more,” I offer, but he immediately shakes his head. Disappointment and resentment mingle in my veins, and my lip twitches in aggravation. “Then you don’t actually want any money from me.”

“As I said, I want you to work for me,” Jack responds, and I tense up as he reaches for my chin. Despite his work-hardened fingers, his touch is startlingly gentle. My heart is racing as I hold my breath and he leans in close to my face. I can see the gold specks in his eyes as well as each individual eyelash. “I want your innocent face… your calm demeanor… your normal… normalcy. Everything I know about you from being in this house is completely at odds with what I know on paper. I have plenty of jobs that can use a face like yours, Heather. Make no mistake… it’s not going to be easy, but really, anything worthwhile is difficult.”

“J— jobs?” I whisper, my voice cracking.

“Jobs… jobs only a face like yours could do and get away cleanly from. Enemies of mine that can sniff out the stink of a hard woman but wouldn’t look twice at your pretty, round face.” Each word that escapes his lips exudes confidence and something that snares me; his sentences wrap around me like an invisible wire.

“Y— you want me to kill people?” I stammer, my throat burning as a fierce prickling envelopes my eyes. What the fuck! What the fuck? “I— I can’t do that. I’ve never been in a fight, let alone—”

“Don’t lie to me, or I’ll rip out your teeth one by one, and then what would become of your only use?” Jack growls lowly, and the hairs on the back of my neck bristle wildly. His eyes shine with a warning glare. “You went to the roughest school in New York City and grew up living in the worst section of low-income housing. Don’t tell me you don’t have it in you because you wouldn’t be here if you couldn’t defend yourself.”

“My mom… she taught me,” I admit; a growing sense of defeat engulfing my entire being.

“What did she teach you?” He presses mercilessly, and the need for air causes my chest to burn. “I’ll assume you know the whole ‘key between the fingers’ technique,” Jack continues, leaning away from me. His grip on my face eases, and I take a shuddering, weak breath.

“I— I can use a gun.” I breathe.

Gently, he caresses where his fingertips had dug into my skin. “Heather, that’s a good starting point. I was expecting less. You surprise me. We’re off to an excellent start. Get up. Go ahead and get your phone.”

I just stare at Jack for a long, heavy moment, and he nods encouragingly. I set my feet on the floor sluggishly, my gaze fixed on him. He doesn’t move, so I scoot across the sofa to get to my feet and immediately think of a way to try to run away. But Jack seems to quickly understand my idea. He is faster than me, and quickly grabs my wrists the moment I straighten up. I stiffen and hold my breath as he releases my free arm and securely wraps his hand around my waist.

“Do you know, Heather,” he breathes hotly in my ear, and my eyelids flutter shut tightly. My skin crawls, his breath rolling down my neck and under my shirt. “The only reason I’m giving you an option is because I think you’re cute. I also think you’re worth more if you submit to me than my forcing you.”

“But I have my limits,” Jack takes my hand in his and pauses his hoarse whispers to lift my phone, and unlocks it by forcing my thumb down on the biometric lock. He navigates my contacts and adds a number without saying anything. It seems like an eternity, and I feel dizzy when he takes the phone off my palm and tosses it on the sofa. I shiver as Jack tangles his fingers in my hair at the base of my neck and kisses my cheek with feathery softness, flattening his palm against my abdomen. His touch gave me goosebumps. “Don’t make me kill you, m’eudail. And about before, being off the market, as you said, just remember that blonds have more fun.”

When I return a sharp look, Jack smirks broadly, his eyes twinkling with mirth. When he lets go, he palms my hip heavily, and the tingling under my shirt intensifies. His smirk broadens as he secretly raises his finger to his lips. Walking past me, he raises a hand in a leisurely wave, rendering me speechless.

“Pick up when I call, m’eudail,” He looks back at me, and goosebumps cover my body as he scans me with narrowed eyes. “My address is on there, too, if you ever want to… renegotiate.” Jack licks his lips, his intent clear as day, and I cross my arms tightly over myself. He turns around, chuckling, and walks out of my house without a word.

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