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One More Night (Connelly Crime Family #2)
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I should have known he was bad news.
He’s got a smile as sinful as the devil himself.
Am I in heaven?
Love filthy talking Irish mob bosses who can melt your panties with just a look? One More Night is a full-length standalone Irish mob romance with no cheating, no cliffhangers and a guaranteed HEA!
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This can’t be happening.
That was the only thought on my mind as I sat on the hard, brown plastic chairs of the hospital waiting room. I craned my neck every time I spotted someone in scrubs or a white lab coat. Someone with information. An update. Hell, anything.
Three hours ago an ER nurse called to tell me my baby brother Ian had been in a car accident and still I didn’t know if he was still alive, walking around, or even discharged and I was in the wrong place.
“Are you family of Ian Anders?”
I looked up at the silver haired doctor cutting through my fog.
“I’m his sister. How is he?”
“I’m Dr. Mannheim. I’m your brother’s surgeon.”
I managed to get myself up off the chair to shake the hand he offered.
“Ian’s right leg was mangled in the wreck. He has several pins and plates but we’ve saved his leg. The surgery went well and we’ll help him manage the pain. We’ll don’t expect any problems during recovery, but we’ll keep him here until he’s out of the woods. We might have to go back in for another surgery in a few weeks.”
“Another surgery?” My legs gave out and I dropped back onto the nearest chair with an inelegant plop. “Will he walk again?”
Dr. Mannheim’s lips twitched but to his credit, his expression remained stoic. “Yes. It’s just a break. A severe one, but he didn’t do any permanent damage. Ian will heal well, provided he does his physical therapy.”
If physical therapy meant the difference between Ian’s recovery, his ability to walk again or possibly becoming an invalid, I had my mission. “I’ll make sure it’s his number one priority. I get it. Anything else?”
“No,” he began, “Ian is young and healthy . . .” but I barely heard another word he said because the relief that rushed through my body made me a little dizzy.
When I first got the call about the accident, my heart stopped and I couldn’t breathe. It was eerily similar to another call. But at least the news about Ian didn’t end with me losing yet another family member.
“You should be able to go back and see him soon.”
Those words brought the air back into the room. “Oh, thank you,” I said. “That’s such good news.” That was just what I needed, to see with my own two eyes that Ian was fine. Then I’d feel better and maybe my heart would beat normally again.
The doctor walked away, probably hurrying into another surgery to save another life, bringing hopefully good news into another family’s life. My ass stayed planted in the chair, eyes glued to the swinging doors waiting for the person who’d escort me to my brother’s room. The wait felt never-ending, and my anxiety only grew worse until my sweating palms and my shallow breathing made me dizzy again.
Another hour passed before a nurse came into the waiting room and said it was time. Yes, finally I could lay my eyes on my brother’s dear face and assure myself that he was all right. Ian would make it.
“Oh, Ian!” I cried as I raced to his bedside and took his hand in mine, I held it close to my heart as tears fell from my eyes. “God, I’m so glad you’re okay.” He was still out of it but I didn’t care, he was alive. He was okay.
“Hey, sis.” His voice came out raspy, but I felt his fingers squeeze back and my tears flowed even more.
“Don’t cry. I’m okay,” he wheezed.
I froze at his words and looked up into big blue eyes that were just a shade darker than my own, urging me to stop the water works. Of course, the bright blonde hair Ian got from our mother was matted to his head.
“I’m sorry, Ian. It’s just … I thought.”
He sounded irritated, as usual. “I know what you thought, and I’m okay.”
It was the same conversation we’d been having since that terrible day the phone call came that changed our lives forever.
“Yeah, well, this time I’d say my thoughts were pretty damn justified, Ian. You were in a car accident!”
“And I’m alive,” he said, flashing his big grin, like he’d just won a bet.
How in the hell had the little boy who cut off one of my ponytails and put a bug in my cereal turned into a big, good looking ladies’ man? I had no idea. To me he would always be a twelve-year-old pest.
“And starving. Can you run to the diner down the street and get me one of those meatloaf sandwiches? Am I allowed to eat? What did the doctor say?”
“He said you were going to be fine and that you would need physical therapy. How’s your head?” I squeezed his hand a little.
“I’m still groggy, but I feel like I’m coming out of it. How long have I been here?”