Finally, she grins as she rolls her eyes again.
“Okay, okay, fine. C’mon. We shouldn’t be late.”
“Hey, I’m not the one getting bent out of shape about the dress code.”
I glance to Castle for at least a chuckle. But he’s looking even more grim and stoic than usual.
“What’s up with you?”
He shrugs, turning away.
“Just don’t want to be late. C’mon.”
I frown. “Cas, seriously, what’s up?”
There’s a glint in his eye when he glances back at me for half a second. But still, he gives nothing away.
“Let’s get where we need to go, kid,” he murmurs quietly.
I shoot Eilish a puzzled look as we follow him out the door. But she just shakes her head and gives me an “I have no idea” face. Given that my sister is incapable of being anything but cheerful, talking shit about anyone no matter how terrible they are, or lying in any capacity, it’s clear she’s also in the dark.
Twenty minutes later, Castle is pulling the white armored Range Rover up to the curb outside O’Bannon’s. The midtown Irish pub has been our uncle’s temporary center of business and war room since he moved to New York from London a few months ago, after the petty scuffles between the Kildare family and the Drakos family turned into all-out war.
After things went nuclear, when the Drakos family lost Vasilis, their head of operations in New York, and we lost Declan, the head of ours.
Declan, as in, my father.
The side door to O’Bannon’s, which leads up to the second floor where Cillian’s been holding court the last few months, is guarded by four Kildare men with not-so-hidden bulges of sidearms under their dark jackets. One nods stiffly at Castle and goes to open the door to the bar for us, when suddenly there’s the sound of a car screeching to a stop at the curb behind us.
The hairs on the back of my neck start to prickle as I slowly turn to frown at the black Escalade. And when the back door opens, and a man in a dark suit with pure malice on his face steps out, my heart leaps into my throat.
“RUN!” I scream as I grab Eilish’s arm, whirling to bolt into O’Bannon’s before the bullets start flying.
Because I know damn well who the man who just stepped out of the SUV is. Hades Drakos: a dangerous, certifiable psychopath and second-in-command of the Drakos family. Basically, public enemy number two if your last name is Kildare.
As I yank my sister towards the door, I realize something odd: the guards aren’t launching into action. Castle himself is just standing there, glowering at the second-oldest Drakos brother as he grins savagely at me.
“Cas?” I hiss hoarsely, my pulse thudding. Clearly, Eilish is just as out of the loop as I am, because she’s still cowering behind me, shaking.
“It’s okay, kid,” Castle mutters quietly. He glances behind me, his look softening as it frequently does when it comes to Eilish. Which is totally understandable. I’m the sister with a chip on her shoulder and an axe to grind. Eilish is the sweet one. The one who’s arguably way too soft for this dangerous world that we live in.
“But that’s—!”
“Boo,” Hades chuckles thinly, winking at me in a way that sends a shiver up my spine. He rolls his muscled shoulders, the tattoo ink that curls up from inside the collar of his dress shirt rippling as he buttons his jacket.
“Well, Pillow Fort. Can we go inside now?”
The creases in Castle’s brow deepen as he squares off with Hades.
“It’s Castle.”
“I really don’t give a shit. Are we doing this or not?”
I frown as I turn to Castle again.
“Doing what, Cas? What are we—”
“Open the doors.”
I stiffen at the deep, powerful voice that rumbles behind me. A voice that causes a tingling sensation to creep over my skin, electrifying me as deeply as it scares me. The feeling grows and throbs deeper and warmer, until I can feel my cheeks reddening as something wicked pools between my thighs.
I turn, and my core clenches tight.
It’s him.
My neighbor. The forbidden distraction. The man with the god-like body built for sin who I have no business fantasizing about, but God help me I do.
Because my neighbor isn’t just eye candy.
He’s Ares fucking Drakos, the brand-new king of the entire Drakos family.
I’m vaguely aware of more people getting out of a second and a third SUV that pull up behind the first—the other siblings in the Drakos family, and various other guards. As the seconds tick by, and as Ares’ piercing, dark-eyed gaze continues to stab right into me, the question of why he’s here fades into the background.
And the question of why he’s looking at me like he’s trying to figure out how to swallow me in one bite comes to the fore.
“Inside, all of you,” he growls quietly, his voice filled with unquestioned power. Two of his three brothers—Hades and Kratos—and his sister Calliope glance at me with slightly raised eyebrows as they file past me into O’Bannon’s. Their guards and the Kildare men follow.
Castle clears his throat, taking Eilish by the shoulders as if to escort her inside. I know I should go too. But somehow, I’m stuck. It’s as if my gaze is bound to Ares. Or as if his gaze has me pinned to the very pavement beneath my feet.
