Page 14 of Sins of Innocence

Mick wouldn't. He knows his people.

Anyway, so what if I've never supported another human being besides myself? After mom died, there was no one I wanted to. Until this woman, whose situation reminds me so much of my mom's. She has three kids, not one, but they're all as vulnerable as I was to a syndicate that has passed judgment on their mom and them by proxy.

It pisses me off that this is happening in the Shaughnessy Mob, but it's different from how the Albanian Boys treated my mom and me.

First, there are kids like Fitz in the mob. He took those boys down just like his dad taught him to. No one ever stood up for me or my mom in Besnik's gang.

Second, in the mob, there are consequences for what those boys tried to do to Áine's daughter. The John who killed my mom during the rough sex he paid for didn't even get a slap on the wrist from the Albanian Boys.

I joined the Army to learn how to kill without getting offed myself. Once I did, I spent my leave tracking that bastard down and dispensing my own justice. A life for a life.

She died afraid and in pain. He died terrified and in agony. He begged for his life and I cut out his tongue so I didn't have to listen to his whining.

I'm glad Fitz sent two of the boys to urgent care, but it's not enough. Not for the trauma those little pissants caused Sadie.

One thing I know for certain: Mick Fitzgerald won't leave it there. He won't exact justice out of an emotional need to protect a woman and her children. He's not wired that way.

But my boss has a definite sense of right and wrong. Murder isn't wrong if it's justified, but breaking the code we all swear to uphold is always wrong.

I stop at the gate when we reach the Shaughnessy Estate and roll down my window, while putting my hand out to Áine. "Driver's license."

"What for?" she asks, her tone unfriendly.

"To I.D. you." Isn't that obvious?

"Why do I need to be identified?"

The mobile gate guard leans down and speaks through my open window. "We need to verify you are Áine Gallagher before we can open the gates, ma'am."

I resist the urge to throw my elbow out and crush the guy's trachea with it. He doesn't need to talk to her. And he shouldn't be leaning this far down, his damn head practically inside the SUV. It's a security risk.

The smile is unnecessary too.

What does he think he is? A customer service rep?

"Was that so hard to say?" she snarks at me. "What would you have done if I didn't bring picture I.D. with me? You didn't bother to tell me I'd need it."

I would have texted Mick. My boss would have taken my word on the identification and given the order to open the gate. Next time, that's what I'm doing.

"You brought your purse." Don't most women carry I.D. in their purses?

"Yes, well…that was my idea, not yours," she says snarkily.

The damn guard is still standing outside my window looking into the SUV at Áine.

She tries to hand him her license across me.

My hand snaps up and I pluck it from her fingers before passing it onto the guard with a look that tells him how much I don't appreciate him speaking with or looking at my passenger.

He takes a picture of the license and hands it back to me quickly before making a hand gesture to the guard in the gate house to let us in.

I hand the license back to Áine before taking the vehicle out of park. Guests unaccompanied by someone with security clearance at my level have to turn off their cars while their I.D. is being verified.

"What was that all about? Are you offended I tried to reach across you and invaded your personal space?" This woman tries to come off as meek and mild, but she's a spitfire.

That reminds me of my mom too. Before my stepfather got out of prison. Mom's inner fire was doused by the time she died though.

No one is dousing Áine's on my watch.