Irish King Read online

  “Well, thank you for the flowers. I would say leave the way you came but somehow I don’t want to know how you got in here.” Kiya walked into the kitchen, the smell of her dinner made her stomach rumble, reminding her that Kevin ate her lunch. She found a vase big enough to hold the flowers and filled it with water. She cut the stems to reveal the fresh area and then arranged them in the vase. All the while she could feel him watching her and that made her hands shake just a bit.

  “I came in through the front door; it was pretty easy to pick the lock,” he explained. “Surprisingly enough your gossipy neighbor, the older lady, was going inside with her dog and carrying groceries. I helped her and told her I was going to visit my cousin on the eighth floor. She offered me cookies for the trouble and they were good. I like chocolate chip.”

  Kiya’s mouth dropped open. “You conned Mrs. Bellamy?”

  “She’s a nice old lady who wants to talk, so I talked.” He grinned. It was boyish and her heart did a flip flop in her chest.

  “Uh-huh,” she said.

  “Invite me to stay for dinner. It smells good,” Ian cajoled.

  Kiya turned with her hands on her hips. “I thought you came to drop off flowers?”

  He lifted his hand and held his thumb and forefinger slightly apart. “I may have told a slight fib.”

  “I don’t do fibs,” she said primly.

  “Uh-oh, the teacher is upset,” he teased. “Come on, let me stay.”

  Kiya felt herself slipping. “Fine, you can stay but only for dinner.”

  “I understand,” he said somberly. Somehow she didn’t believe his meek attitude.

  She handed him some bowls. “You can set the table, if you know how to do that.”

  Ian smiled. “I think I’ll figure it out. I’ve watched The Brady Bunch.”

  Kiya couldn’t help but laugh, but then she got serious quickly. What kind of life did he have that he needed to watch TV to figure out the concept of family? Being the son of a kingpin must have been the hardest life, under the scrutiny of law enforcement and living in danger all the time. She couldn’t think of his childhood and adulthood as one and the same he choices he made being a grown man were his own as well.

  She took the crockpot to the middle of the table and then went back to steep the tea. She made him a cup as well and placed it in front of him as he sat at the table.

  He sniffed it curiously and she explained what it was. “Vanilla chamomile tea with brandy to warm us up.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever had herbal tea,” he said doubtfully. “Don’t you have a beer or maybe coffee?”

  She gave him a direct look. “How do you know you won’t like it unless you try it? Besides, this is dinner and it’s impolite to beg for a meal then not eat it.”

  He nodded and his eyes held amusement. “Understood.”

  “How is your shoulder?” she asked, using the spoon in the crock pot to take out some of the meat, potatoes, and carrots before offering it to him.

  “Doing good, my own doctor looked it over and said you did a good job,” Ian answered.

  “Tell him I said thanks. So you have a mob doctor, I thought that was only on TV,” she commented.

  “Riley is my best friend, we grew up together. His father was my father’s doctor so he was born into it,” Ian explained. “He works at a legitimate hospital and he only takes care of me as a favor. He wants nothing to do with this life... for either of us.”

  “Sounds like a good guy. Are you going to listen to him?” Kiya asked, fascinated.

  Ian shrugged. “I don’t know anything else but this world—fighting, blood, death—all for power and the almighty dollar.”

  “You sound like you hate it,” Kiya said gently.

  He looked down at his food. “I do.”

  The two words were said with such ferocity, she was taken aback. Kiya couldn’t image the position he was in and she wanted to comfort him, take away his pain.

  ‘Tell me about you,” he said suddenly.

  “You know I’m a teacher. I work at a school for disabled children, my class is deaf so I teach with sign language,” Kiya explained simply.

  “Do you only teach the deaf?” Ian asked. She noted that he ate eagerly between words.

  Kiya smiled, glad he liked her food. “I teach all classes. My class only happened to have hearing loss this time around. It’s an arts school and while we have formal studies like English and Math, we focus on their talents as well, music and art, sculpting, stuff like that.”

  “So you’re saying that blind people can do art and deaf people play music,” Ian commented.

  She gave him a direct stare. “And why not? You’d be amazed at some of the breathtaking images the blind can create or the most profound pieces of music a person who is hearing disabled can play or write. They feel the sound at their fingertips, in the vibration throughout their bodies. People who can’t see use the texture of the paint, the canvas and can see what they want it to look like in their mind’s eye. Don’t count out people with disabilities, they can surpass many of us.”

  He was staring at her after her speech and Kiya raised an eyebrow in his direction. “What?”

  “You’re very passionate about what you believe in,” he said softly. “You make me wish I had something in my life that could elicit that kind of emotion.”

  “What are your hobbies?”

  “I don’t have any,” he admitted. “I have been working for my dad since I was a teen, being trained to take over the family business that I never wanted. First thing I ever saw was my father break a man’s fingers with a hammer for skimming his money. There was never a time where that man was proud of me unless I was enforcing his rules. I got praised for breaking jaws and cracking skulls, not for good grades or art.”

  She reached over and covered his hand with her own. “I am so sorry. Anyone can tell there’s more to you than just violence.”

  ‘That’s all anyone’s ever wanted.”

  He looked at her hand on his. Kiya noted how much bigger his hand was to hers.

  “In any case, that’s my life now. This pot roast is delicious, you’re a good cook,” Ian deftly changed the subject.

  She moved her hand. “Thank you, I would think that five-star meals would be way better than mine.”

  “A home cooked meal is best,” Ian said. “I didn’t have many of those. Riley’s mom cooked and I ate there a lot growing up. My mother liked the in-house chef and dinners out. The mob boss’s wife was a role she was born to play.”

  “Are there no happy times in your memory?” Kiya asked gently.

  Ian smiled. “With Riley’s family. Anyway I’m talking way too much, nothing I say here can be used against me in a court of law.”

  Kiya put her fork down. “And your meal is done, thank you for coming. For your information, if I wanted to tell my brother or any law enforcement agency about you, I could’ve done it when you were passed out on my couch. But don’t worry, I won’t share anything you said over pot roast and potatoes tonight.”

  He stood up. “I was teasing, it was a joke.”

  She followed his action, then walked towards the door. “It’s a reminder of why our worlds would never mesh. You walk in the dark, head a criminal organization for your father and, like you said, crack skulls. I teach and have never done a single bad thing in my life.”

  “So, that makes you better than me?” Ian snapped.

  “No, it means this is a mistake and I should stick to what I know,” Kiya pointed out.

  Ian grabbed her shoulders and she barely got a sound out before he pressed his lips against hers. It wasn’t a gentle kiss to foray into what she liked. Ian took, tasted and devoured. When she opened her mouth to protest, he speared his tongue into her mouth. Kiya’s knees weakened. She’d never been kissed like that, consumed and left aching with need.

  Ian lifted his head and his voice was harsh with desire when he spoke. “You can stick to your good girl routine, because that kiss s
ure as hell tells me there is more to you than what you want the world to see. So pretend you’re above me, better than me, and then go to bed aching because you want to take a walk on the wild side. You want me to be between your legs fucking you until you scream my name. Be the good girl, baby. At least I accept my flaws.”

  “Get out,” she whispered.

  He stepped out the door and she closed and locked it with a trembling hand. Kiya went to clear the table and stood there for a moment reliving the kiss, and she pressed her finger against her mouth. Was he right, did she find him fascinating because he was unlike anyone she’d ever met? There was one thing Ian was right about: she wanted him. But all he could ever be was a fantasy.

  * * * *

  The man sat in the chair with his hands duct taped behind his back. A trail of blood ran out of his mouth and his right eye was swollen shut. Ian had no doubt that the orbital bone was broken and he tried to put the piteous whimpers the man made out of his head. He was one of the Russians from the warehouse; apparently his father’s people had found the weakest in the bunch. He was to be a message for all to know that no one attacked King Mordha and lived to talk about it. Collin Mordha would reign supreme and now they would get nothing.

  But as Ian looked at the man, he put his age at maybe twenty-four. Young, dumb, and now in a shit load of hell he couldn’t get out of even if he tried. Ian steeled his heart, but he was damn sick of it all—the posturing, the death, all of it.

  “P-Please, King, I-I don’t want to die,” the man with the thick accent begged for his life.

  “That’s not my decision. It all depends on what you tell me,” King said casually.

  Two others from his father’s organization stood close by, smoking their specialty cigarettes and watching silently. There was no way he could show mercy and let his father find out. Mordhas were not weak.

  “What do you want to know?” the man asked.

  “Everything. For instance, where is Alexi and what’s his next plan?” Ian asked.

  “He says he is not afraid. He hangs out in Madame Petrov’s restaurant in his booth,” the man said quickly. “I don’t know much more than that.”

  “Who’s his contact at the dock to bring in the coke and the women?” Ian asked. “Who in my organization is selling us out?”

  “I don’t know, I swear, I am low man on the pole,” the man whimpered. “Please, you don’t have to kill me. I’ll leave, I won’t come back.”

  Ian gripped his hair and pulled his head back. “It’s not for me to say, my father has the final say so. But...you see, your people disrespected us and that has to be answered for.”

  “The boss said we show no mercy to these assholes,” one of his father’s men said.

  “That’s the breaks, kid. These boys are going to be your new friends while I go check in on your boss.” Ian let go of his head and it flopped forward. “Play nice, boys, and clean up when you’re done.”

  His father’s people laughed as he moved away. He heard the first thud as a fist connected with the face of their captive. When they dropped his body off in the area of Chicago called Little Russia, Alexi would get a body that had been ravaged by pain before death finally was rendered. Ian got in his car, knowing where he needed to be, but instead he found himself driving towards Kiya’s address.

  Why do I keep coming back to her?

  Ian asked himself the question as he sat outside her building in the car. Her apartment faced the front of the building and he could see no lights on. She wasn’t home and soon he understood why. She came walking up the block and beside her was a man. He said something funny and she laughed up at him. Ian wanted to punch his face in. He was this clean cut kind of guy wearing a business suit and who looked like he never saw a day’s worth of hard work in his life. He wasn’t much taller than Kiya, while Ian towered over her. His was leaner and Ian knew from shoulder to shoulder his own back spanned forty-four inches. This guy was probably a teacher or a doctor or a lawyer while he used his wits to survive in the streets and his fists to make a point. This guy would be perfect for her and Ian understood he would bring danger to her life. That kiss, it was seared into his senses and jealousy burned through him. He wanted to lay claim to Kiya but what right did he have?

  He would go crazy if the guy went up with her and Ian breathed a sigh of relief when she hugged him on the steps of the building. The man pressed a soft kiss to her lips and he flexed his hand making a fist. He should drive away but he couldn’t.

  Ian watched the man walk away while she unlocked he apartment door and went inside. What should I do now? he wondered. He felt torn apart, wanting to be with her and knowing that it was wrong. Ian looked at his phone and found Riley’s number in the contacts. He needed a reality check and some advice while he sat in the darkness watching and aching to be with Kiya.

  “What’s up, meathead?” Riley said when he answered his cell. It was his usual fashion of giving Ian ridiculous nicknames each time they spoke.

  “I need you to talk me out of something,” Ian said.

  “Christ, what did you father have you do?” Riley’s voice instantly got angry.

  “It’s not that,” Ian sighed. “It’s the teacher who patched me up. I’m outside her apartment. We kissed and I want more but it’s not fair to her to bring her in the middle of this life.”

  “Or you could give up this life and actually live a good one with her,” Riley prompted. “You’ve got enough money squirreled away. Leave this God damn city and start new somewhere and take her with you.”

  Ian laughed. “If it was that easy. She has a life and a good thing. She also has a brother who is a cop and a family who cares about her.”

  “You would be the one to fall for a cop’s sister,” Riley sighed. “What do you want me to say, Ian? That Ian King Mordha is heir to a crime family and doesn’t deserve to be happy? That if her brother finds out, he won’t try to flip you to get your father’s organization dismantled and put everyone you know in jail? That even so, you’ll never be good enough for her in his eyes?”

  Ian swallowed thickly as Riley spoke the reality of his life. “Yes, I need to hear all that.”

  “Or I could say take a chance,” Riley said in a serious tone. “That maybe she will love you enough to say fuck it to her family and hold onto you tight. She could love you hard and you’d never have a doubt about it and she would make leaving this city worth it because she would be with you. Taking the one chance that in this fucked up world, she may be the one to make it better and give you the life you actually deserve. This could also be another option.”

  “You’re not helping give me much perspective, only more questions,” Ian muttered.

  “I think I am,” Riley chuckled. “This place is hell, hot as sin in the summer and under feet of snow and ice in the winter. The crime rate is high and your father contributes to that. I think you should get out and marry this girl Kiya, make a few kids someplace warm and live the rest of your life in peace. God knows you never had any of it growing up with the parents you were dealt.”

  “I have a lot to think about,” Ian said.

  “I hope you make the right choices, bro. Think about this—right now, there’s a woman who can see beyond who your father is,” Riley said. “Give her a chance to do that and then go from there.”

  “I want out,” Ian said suddenly, the realization hitting him deep in his bones.

  “Then the same way you fight for that man and his ill-gotten gains, fight for your life,” Riley replied.

  “I have to think this out and cut ties in a way that won’t endanger Kiya in any way,” Ian said.

  “Are you going to go see her now?” Riley asked.

  “Yes, I have to tell her... Crap, I’ll figure out what I want to say when she opens the door.” Ian felt unsure but he knew he couldn’t drive away that night without holding her, even if it was just for an instant.

  “King Mordha at a loss for words,” Riley laughed. “Go get her.”

&n
bsp; “I won’t be King for too much longer. When I leave, that part of my life will be dead and gone,” Ian said.

  “Good to know,” Riley said. “Bye, Ian.”

  “Later.”

  Ian hung up, got out of the car, and looked up at the sky. Fat flakes had begun to fall, which in Chicago could mean a dusting of snow or six feet of white by the end of the next day. He crossed the street and ran up the stairs to ring the buzzer and it took only an instant before he heard her sweet voice.

  “Hello, who’s there?” Kiya said.

  He pressed the intercom button. “Ian... Kiya, please before you say go away, I want to talk to you.”

  Kiya hesitated. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “I just want to talk, then I’ll go,” Ian persisted.

  “Just for a minute,” she finally said and he heard the buzzer before the door unlocked.

  Ian took the stairs two at a time and he wasn’t even out of breath by the time he reached the door. He knocked gently and she opened the door. Her hair was still down and she was already wearing a pair of plaid sleep pants, cute pink socks and a pink cotton shirt. Her face was clean of makeup, even lipstick, and she looked too real, refreshing, and he wanted her all the more.

  “Come in,” she said and stepped back. He went past her inside and she closed the door. “What did you want to talk about?”

  He pulled her into his embrace and hugged her tight. For a moment she was stiff with surprise and then she wrapped her arms around his waist the best she could.

  Ian pulled away and looked down at her. “Kiya, I’ve been a jerk and a brute I have no excuse except that I’m rough around the edges. You’re so beautiful, kind, and gentle with a heart of gold and a spine of steel. You wouldn’t even have a second thought in telling me where to go and how to get there. And I can’t stop thinking about you, about the kiss we shared.”

  “Ian, that’s all well and good but we live very different lives,” Kiya pointed out.