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I willed my feet to carry me the last few steps until I could sit in my chair, putting distance between us.
But Willa had other ideas.
In a shocking move, she dropped to her knees in front of me, shoving herself between my open legs.
My gaze dropped to where her hands gripped my thighs, looking so small in comparison. My dick stirred behind the zipper of my jeans, and just like that, I ached to touch her in return.
She squeezed, lifting my gaze to her face. “Lucifer, please,” she begged.
The desperation in her voice and the lingering traces of her blackened eye convinced me that Willa believed her life—or something equally as important—depended on it, and that she had no other option.
Realization finally caught up with me. Jack’s daughter trusted me. She needed me.
Despite my better judgment, I reached out and traced where Aiden had marked her with his fist. Her lips quivered the moment our skin touched, and I swallowed every reservation I had about helping her.
“What are you asking of me, Willa?”
“Teach me,” she breathed as the first tear burned into the flesh of my fingertips.
Inwardly, I felt gutted. Outwardly, I sustained. “What do you want me to teach you?”
“Teach me how to protect myself—how to fight and kill without remorse ... without guilt.”
My hand slid down her face until I was cupping her chin. I needed her to look me in the eye when she answered my next question. “Are you planning to kill anyone else?”
“Only out of necessity.” Her response was as instant as it was honest, but it left an eerie amount of room open for interpretation.
I mulled this over, but there were so many directions my thoughts could take, and Willa was waiting for an answer. I wondered if she’d give me more.
As if she read my mind, she added, “That night at St. Patrick’s really messed with my head ... I’m not sleeping ... and if I do, I have nightmares. If your family is going to continue to put me in danger, it’s only fair that I have the means to defend myself.”
“Only out of necessity,” I echoed her earlier answer.
She dipped her head in commitment. “Only out of necessity.”
A hum vibrated in the back of my throat.
I wanted Willa to feel safe. Competent. Capable. But at what cost? Was it biased and negligent to trust her? Yes. Would I do it anyway?
My cell phone vibrated, drawing our attention. I withdrew it from the front pocket of my jeans, silenced it, and tossed it on the desk. Raphael’s name continued to flash on the screen, and the next thing I knew, Willa had pulled out of my grasp and gotten to her feet. She grabbed the paper bag she’d deposited on my desk and pressed it to my chest.
“Thanks for kicking Cillian’s ass,” she mumbled, turning to walk away.
Willa was almost to the door when I called out, “Six thirty tomorrow morning. I’ll meet you in the gym.”
She paused, and without turning around, she asked with a strong, clear voice, “What about Raphael?”
“I’ll figure something out. Don’t worry about it.”
Without another word, she left.
I stared at the closed door as though it held the key to unraveling the web in my once-organized mind.
Only out of necessity.
Did she fear another shootout? Cillian, perhaps? Would I stop her if she wanted to slay the miserable fuck? No. In fact, I’d probably sharpen her blades.
The thought almost made me smile.
