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“One more, please.” With a gentle pull, he moved me one step into the room with him.
Soft blue walls.
His crib.
His changing table.
His rocker.
Sunshine yellow baseboards.
My whole heart fell out of my chest all over again. A sob caught in my throat. The room swayed and blurred. I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn’t want to face it.
“Do you blame me?” I asked, my voice cracking.
“Not a chance in hell, Genevieve,” Killian said. I opened my eyes long enough to glance at him. Silent tears gathered on those long lashes of his. “This wasn’t your fault. Bad things happen… horrible fucking things happen for no goddamn reason.”
“I want our baby back, Ian.” The dam holding back the majority of my emotions shattered, and I fell apart. He dragged me to his chest, crushing me in his arms.
“Me too, baby girl, me too,” he let out, his voice breaking with the words.
Chapter 87
Killian
Cigarette perched between my lips, I stared at the dark house. All the lights were off but the front where I knew Phillip was watching the TV while his wife was upstairs asleep. And me? I was a fucking ghost in the backyard. Not a fucking soul knew I was there.
Not even Genevieve. I’d lied to her—a fact that didn’t sit well with me. She thought I was at A.A. several towns over. I’d done that. But she was under the assumption it’d go a hell of a lot longer than needed since it was my first time at this particular meeting.
I hated lying to her, but she wouldn’t be okay with what I was about to fucking do. What she didn’t know, couldn’t hurt her.
Phillip was done hurting his girls, and I was fucking determined to make sure that happened. The man was shit out of luck because I was in a shitty fucking mood. Going into August’s nursery yesterday had damn near wrecked me. Today, we tiptoed around fucking everything in that house. We were living with memories we couldn’t process because they bled from the very walls around us.
As soon as I handled Phillip, I would handle the house. I wanted to breathe easy again. I wanted Genevieve to do the same.
“Took you long enough,” I growled as the darkness beside me shifted. Lane practically appeared out of nowhere—not a new trick for him—and stopped beside me.
“Someone’s a grumpy fucker tonight,” he commented. I glanced at him. The man couldn’t look more fucking causal for what we were about to do. Green Henley pushed up his arms, dark jeans fitted and shoved into work boots, a belt with a knife around his waist, and a leather cord around his neck. Honestly, I wasn’t sure the man had a different fucking outfit. He had that same goddamn Henley in every fucking color imaginable, wore the same fucking jeans and the same black boots. He was alarmingly charming with his blond swept hair, sea-green eyes, and stubble. He looked like the fucking guy you called to fix your shit—fuck, he was blond Declan only leaner.
But I fucking knew better. The Devil himself fucking feared Lane.
“I’m on a fucking schedule,” I told him. I wasn’t. I just wanted to crawl into bed with my wife. I’d missed her warmth and soft sounds as she slept.
“And who are we handling tonight?” he asked, getting straight to business. He crossed his arms and studied the house.
“Start with the wife upstairs. Make it fast and painless,” I said. Yeah, even Gail had to go because she wasn’t innocent in the whole thing either.
“Well, that’s no fun,” Lane replied. I rolled my eyes. Of course, it wasn’t.
“Have your fun with the pastor.”
“I’ve never dealt with a clergyman before.” I didn’t miss the sinister twist in his voice as if that piece of information changed his plans. But I didn’t say a fucking word about it because I didn’t want to know. I wanted Lane to handle it, but I didn’t want the fucking details. The details would probably make me vomit. “Who is he to you?”
“My father-in-law.” I dropped my cigarette and squashed it. When I glanced up, Lane was staring at me with the utmost entertainment etched in his face. “That’s all the details I’m giving you, you sordid fuck.”
“Fast or slow?”
“Make it fucking hurt.” I couldn’t undo the decades of damage he’d done to my wife, but I could make sure he fucking paid for it. While being exiled was a lot, it wasn’t enough. He deserved to hurt. If anyone could make it last, it was Lane.
