Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
He holds his hands up in surrender, damn near sobbing.
“Okay, alright,” he says, turning his head to the side and spitting blood onto the ground. One eye swollen, his lip split and pouring blood, but he’s fucking lucky he’s alive.
Lachlan leans over, plucks the blade out of his hand, folds it, and pockets it.
“Thanks for the souvenir,” he says.
“Now run along, lad,” Carson says, his voice dripping with condescension, icy with a hardness we rarely see. He seems placid and calm until you try to hurt one of his brothers, or worse, someone defenseless.
“And if you ever threaten her again, I won’t hesitate next time,” I say. “I’ll put a bullet in your head without a backward glance, you hear?” I fucking hate bullies.
He gets to his feet. His eyes are swollen, blood dripping down from his broken nose. Still holding his hands up in surrender, he backs up until he trips, and when he gets to his feet, he runs.
“Well, if that wasn’t a sight for sore eyes,” Sheena says. I look at her in surprise, but she only shrugs. Most women can’t bear to witness the violence, but she seems almost happy. “Never saw anyone put the fear of God in Cian.”
“Who was he?” I ask her.
“Ex-boyfriend.”
“Bloody hell, lass, if I knew that, I’d have pulled the fucking trigger.”
Chapter 8
Sheena
He’s my enemy, for God’s sake. I should hate him.
I do.
Well, I don’t.
I do.
When he does things like that, when he protects me and steps in as my savior, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve been too hasty.
I can’t think of this now. I won’t. I’m here for a reason, and they need me right now.
I hate that he’s here, that he’s witness to the misery and squalor that ties me to my past. He already hates me and it shouldn’t matter now what he thinks, but honest to God, I want to curl up in a ball and cry that I’ve had to bring him here.
What will he think of me?
Why do I care?
But I have no choice. They need me. They aren’t safe, and I’ll have to swallow my pride and do what I’ve come here for. Why must I always be forced to swallow my pride around Nolan?
I open the door and head straight in.
“Tiernan!” I yell. “Where are you?”
“In here, Sheena.”
I almost cry when I walk into the living room. Tiernan sits on the dilapidated sofa. He’s got a black eye, and Fiona’s curled up beside him with her knees tucked up to her chest. She’s wearing faded pajamas that are too small for her, and her hand’s wrapped in a messy bandage that’s falling off. Tiernan’s eyes widen in surprise when he looks at the company I’ve brought.
“Thought you were coming alone,” he say reproachfully. He stares with distrust toward Nolan, his gaze dropping to Nolan’s blood-covered hands. Nolan wipes his hand on his trousers and clears his throat, then holds Tiernan’s gaze for a long moment, takes in our surroundings. He speaks in a hushed voice to Lachlan and Carson. They leave.
Did he command them? Or was that a word between brothers?
“Sheena,” Tiernan says, getting to his feet. “Who are they?”
“Well, about that,” I begin, when Nolan interrupts.
“Thought it would be safer she not come alone,” Nolan says.
And even though I know I’m here because I’m their prisoner, a part of me wonders if he speaks any truth at all. Would he prefer I not go alone? And why does a part of me hopes that’s true?
Tiernan glares at Nolan, arranging the baby on his hip.
“And who the fuck are you?” he asks.
“Tiernan,” I say reproachfully. “Language.” I don’t like him talking that way, he’s better than that, and for goodness sakes, I don’t want him provoking Nolan.
Nolan takes another step toward him.
My breath freezes, and I don’t move. If Tiernan had any idea who Nolan was, who any of them were, he would watch his tongue. Fiona’s eyes go from me to Nolan in wide-eyed silence.
Nolan doesn’t respond at first, as if he’s mulling his words over before he speaks. Finally, still holding Tiernan’s gaze, he says in a voice much softer than I expect, “I’m guessing you’re Tiernan.”
“Aye.”
Nolan extends his hand. “Nolan. Pleased to meet you.”
Tiernan stares at Nolan’s lacerated hand.
“You get into a fight?” he asks.
“I mean you no harm, Tiernan,” Nolan continues, ignoring the question. “I came here because your sister and I were… together when you called. I didn’t want her coming here alone.”
Tiernan works his jaw, then nods.
“Now, no more questions,” I say with the firmness of an older sister. Lying is a way of life for me, but I don’t lie to Tiernan if I can help it. I’m concerned that if I give him any more space to ask questions, one of us will have to do just that.