Conor Read Online A. Zavarelli (Boston Underworld #6)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Dark, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Boston Underworld Series by A. Zavarelli
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Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 59738 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
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“Conor O’ Callahan,” I answer.

“O’ Callahan,” Niall repeats quietly.

“Irish as the day is long,” Rory says proudly.

Crow shakes his head. “Irish or not, we made a deal. The lad accepted it.”

“Enough.” Niall stuffs his hands into his coat pockets and turns to Crow. “Tell me why ye decided this was the best way to sort this out, Lachlan.”

Crow sighs and for the first time since I’ve met him, his façade cracks, just a little. “It’s not that I don’t like the lad. I’ve got nothin’ against him. But I don’t have the time to take him under my charge, Niall. Ye know how tense things are at the moment with the Armenians moving in.”

“Aye.” Niall shrugs. “I know.”

Then he looks to Rory.

“Crow’s right. He doesn’t have the time to take him under his charge. So, you will.”

Rory falters for a second, and Crow smirks. “Problem solved.”

Niall looks to me and shrugs. “Problem solved.”

Conor is quiet again on the ride home. He doesn’t mention what happened between him and Crow after I left the office, but he doesn’t seem to be worried. He’s in his own headspace, but his shoulders are relaxed and every now and then he turns to look at me, offering me a small glimpse into his eyes. He’s much more at ease than I currently feel. I try to play it cool like he is, but I keep thinking of Archer, desperate for reassurance that it’s all going to be okay.

“I imagine ye must be tired,” Conor says when we walk in the door. “You can sleep in the bed again. I’ll take the sofa.”

“Okay.” I nod, but I don’t want to leave the room, and I can’t exactly figure out why. I should be grateful that he’s respecting my boundaries. But if I’m being honest, I would be okay with having him sleep next to me. I would be more than okay because I know I’d feel safe. After everything that’s happened today, I’m emotionally tapped out, and for once, I just want someone else to do the heavy lifting. I want the guy who put his own life on the line to save mine to sleep next to me and tell me everything’s going to be okay. Is that so bad?

It’s a terrifying thing to acknowledge. In just the matter of a few simple days, Conor has proved himself honorable in my eyes. I can only hope I don’t end up the fool for allowing myself to get caught up in this.

“I want to go visit Archer tomorrow,” I blurt.

Conor’s eyes move over my face, soft and filled with an understanding that jump starts the heart I was certain had already died. “Sure, we can do that.”

We?

I don’t argue. I’m not sure how far I can push the boundaries with him yet, and the most important thing is that I see Archer. Relief blooms inside of me as I offer him a small smile. “Thank you. I guess I’ll be going to bed then.”

He sinks down onto the sofa, kicking off his boots. “Goodnight, wifey.”

The word catches me off guard, and I stare at him for a full minute longer than I should. When he looks up at me and our eyes lock, there’s a moment between us when everything else ceases to exist. His gaze moves to my lips, and my body shudders when I remember what it was like to kiss him.

I want that again. I want it so much I must be losing my mind. I barely know him. He’s mafia. A killer. I couldn’t pick a worse guy for me out of a lineup. But I can’t deny that the longer I’m around him, the more he draws me into his orbit. It’s an impossible want. The moon might as well be chasing the sun.

I can’t let Conor know how tormented I’m feeling by this arrangement already. He already did me a favor by saving my life. He owes me nothing else. And at the end of the day, why would he want me?

I swallow down the harshness of my existence in this world where I don’t belong. “Goodnight, Conor.”

A shadowed face blocks my exit, and an arctic chill unfurls inside of me. The alley is empty, and I’m more alone than I’ve ever been. Muerto’s piercing laughter echoes off the city walls and the knife in his fist gleams under the moonlight. Tonight, that blade will bite into my flesh and drain the life from me, just like he always threatened.

My heart beats a frantic tempo as I search for a weapon, but there’s nothing. Everything I own is gone and there are only two choices. Run, or let him come to me. Desperate to leave him and this nightmare behind, my feet lurch forward before I can think it through, but he tackles me to the ground. His weight is like a concrete block on my chest, suffocating me under his memory. He doesn’t speak. He just plunges his blade into my stomach, again and again and again. Blood pools around me and I can feel the light in my eyes slipping away. I think of Archer and how badly I’ve failed him.


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