He’s no hero, he’s a killer, but he’ll die to protect her.
The day he was sent to kill her was lucky for both of them.
Lucky:
In the Army they called me the Patron Saint of Death. Now I’m back home in the Irish Mafia, killing whoever they tell me to and screwing whoever I want. The one thing I don’t do is care.
I meant to kill Mia quickly, as a mercy … until she saved my life. She’s helpless, naïve, barely more than a kid. I should dump her somewhere and be rid of her.
But she pulls at something deep inside — a part of me I thought was dead forever. I’m not sure I can let her go. Or if I even want to.
Mia:
He was meant to be my death. Now he’s my life. Without him, I’m lost — a pawn in an ugly game.
Knowing who he is — what he is — doesn’t change the way I feel. He draws me like a magnet. I couldn’t stay away even if I wanted to.
It’s simple, really. I’d rather die at his side than live without him.
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