Take It On The Run

Chapter 29

POV: Sloan

Despite the circumstances, I had to admit Ireland was gorgeous—in a quaint, emo sort of way.

The sky was gray, as though it might open up at any moment and rain cats and dogs as we drove to some island my father had briefly mentioned. But the verdant landscape was breathtaking. It made me wish I was here for pleasure so I could explore the neighboring towns and villages.

It was strange to think that my father had grown up thousands of miles away in a place I'd never seen or set foot in before. There was still so much I didn't know about him or my own history.

"So why didn't you want to take over the family business?" I asked my father, fully aware that we weren't alone.

When we exited the plane earlier, a security detail had met us on the airstrip. Two black SUVs currently sandwiched our humvee. The bodyguards who'd ridden with us had enough emotional intelligence to act bored now as they stared out of the windows or down at their phones.

He chuckled. "Aside from stealin', arson, murder, extortion, money launderin', racketeerin', and weapons, drug, and human traffickin'?"

On the jet, he'd explained that The Collectors were a rogue branch of the West End Gang—a.k.a, the Irish Mafia—that had gone international decades ago. Basically, if you were filthy rich and wanted something highly illegal done discreetly, The Collectors were who you employed.

I shrugged. "The majority of people wouldn't turn down the opportunity to be a billionaire, regardless of how they came by the money."

Then there was the heady pull of power most men were incapable of resisting. Not to mention the fact that the only way one left The Collectors was via body bag.

"I won't lie to you, Sloan. I was prepared to perform me duty and take over The Collectors. I'd been groomed me whole life for the role. But then..." He smiled faintly, looking through me for a moment.

"Then what?" I prompted, not bothering to hide my interest. "What changed?"

His smile grew as his green gaze found mine. "I met your ma."

He'd fallen in love.

I realized I'd never heard the story of how they found one another. Not the real one anyway. After I thought he'd abandoned us, I never asked much about him because I was afraid of hurting Mom.

"How did y'all even meet?" It seemed unlikely—an American baker and an Irish gangster. "Let me guess. You were from the wrong side of the tracks, and she was a prim and proper lady. You took her to your favorite trash can, and y'all shared some spaghetti and kissed?"

One of the security guards fought a grin, covering his laugh with a cough.

My father chuckled then. "'Twas a we bit like Lady and the Tramp, I reckon," he conceded. "She was in culinary school in Dublin, studyin' to become a pastry chef. I'd been there doing some...business, and I went to a pub with some mates to watch the Champions League. When I went to the bar to order another pint, she was standin' right next to me. 'Twas love at first sight."

I crossed my legs. "Well, that's obnoxiously cute."

"Your ma made me wanna be a better man in every conceivable way. Her goodness was a thing of beauty, it was. I knew I didn't deserve her. But I wanted to. Then when she became with child, I knew I had to leave The Collectors. For both of you."

"Did Mom know what you did for a living? You said before that she knew everything."

He shook his head. "Not at first, but she figured it out a few months into our courtship. Always a bright one, Shannon was. God knows why she didn't leave me. Sometimes I wish she woulda. Maybe then she'd still be drawin' breath. But then I wouldn't have you now, would I?"