Patrick: A Mafia Love Story by Kit Tunstall, R.E. Saxton Page B

he had planned.
    Once back at the house, he didn’t even look at her as he slipped from the car. Once he was certain she had exited too, he strode inside. She remained a couple of steps behind him, and he split off, heading straight toward his study as she ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He heard her harsh breathing and knew she was on the edge of tears. She deserved privacy to bawl her eyes out and come to terms with what she had seen.
    Strangely, he wasn’t at all afraid she’d go to the police or betray him. He knew she cared about him too much to do that. She might even love him as she claimed, but it wasn’t enough to overcome what he did for a living. It certainly wasn’t enough to overcome the huge secret between them. Even the deepest love wouldn’t be able to overcome the reality that her father’s blood was on his hands.
    In fact, he had killed Jorge in much the same manner as he had taken out Howie, and he wasn’t certain if it had been coincidental, or if it had been his subconscious at work, spurring him to re-create the gruesome scene for his love. It was as close as he could ever get to confessing to what he had done.
    With her far away from him, giving her a chance at a normal life without the Irish Mafia and without the darkness in him, he wouldn’t be as tempted to tell her the truth, even if he ever felt the slightest niggle to do so. It would also mean she’d be far less likely to ever find out for herself, though he didn’t know who would tell her.
    After an hour, he figured he had given her enough time to compose herself and find a way to tell him she no longer wanted to be with him. He double-checked her plane ticket for London, reconfirming she would fly out the next morning at eleven a.m. His heart broke as he saw the itinerary in black and white on his computer screen, but he pushed that reaction down deep, knowing it was for the best. He was trying to protect her as much as he was protecting his own heart.
    He walked up the stairs and tapped not too lightly on her door, but this time waiting for permission to enter. When she called out for him to come in, her voice was stronger than he had expected.
    He opened the door and slipped across the threshold, closing it quietly behind him. He didn’t bother to engage the lock, not expecting to be there very long, certainly not long enough for anyone to disturb them. “Your flight leaves tomorrow morning.”
    She walked toward him, a fierce scowl on her face. “What flight?”
    “Your flight to London. Your apartment’s still waiting, the internship is yours if you want it. Blow it off if you don’t, because it doesn’t matter. I set up a bank account for you, and you’re all set. You can do anything you want.”
    She shook her head. “You’re still trying to get rid of me?”
    He let out a harsh bark of laughter. “I figured you’d be running for the door by now, Lauren.”
    She walked the rest of the way toward him, bridging the distance separating them to stop and stand in front of him. Her chin angled slightly, and she stared at him with an air of challenge. “You don’t scare me, Patrick.”
    He glared down at her. “You’re lying. I saw the look on your face when I killed that guy.”
    She didn’t bother to hide a grimace of disgust. “It was awful. It is the most horrible thing I’ve ever seen, and I hated that you did it, but I didn’t hate you. I love you, Patrick. That hasn’t changed.”
    A sense of defeat was trying to rise in him, and even more disconcerting was a flutter of optimism. He squashed that ruthlessly, not wanting to hope for anything. He couldn’t hope for her to stay, because it would be completely unfair to her. “You don’t belong in this life, Lauren. You’re better than this. Better than me.”
    She rolled her eyes. “I’m not leaving you.”
    He growled at her, anger rising as she just grew more stubborn. “Yes, you are. You have to. If you don’t want to go to London, pick