Page 6 of Bound Lies

The bomb beneath my car at Ronan’s wedding and the failed attack at the safe house have been playing on my mind for what feels like weeks.

Every waking moment I have is spent trying to track down the fucker who decided to mess with me. But joke’s on them because as much as I like feeling pain, I like dishing it out even more.

When I get my hands on them, I’ll make sure to make that fact known.

My stomach growls, but just as I turn to the kitchen to start making breakfast, my phone starts buzzing in the pocket of my workout shorts.

“Seriously, Ronan?”

But as I look at my phone, the notifications tell me the messages aren’t from Ronan but from some random girl I hooked up with the other night.

I don’t remember giving her my number. Didn’t even care enough to learn her name.

Blonde chick-The Salt Rock: The other night was fun, wanna do it again sometime? I’m off work tonight if you’re free? Xxx

I don’t consider replying. I’m not usually one for double dipping, so I delete the message before blocking the contact. I feel kind of bad for doing it, but it seems these girls don’t get the message any other way.

I’m not a relationship guy. I never have been, and honestly, I don’t think I ever will be. And that suits me fine.

Setting my phone down on the marble countertop, I open the fridge and start pulling out some supplies for breakfast.

It buzzes again.

“I swear to God…” I snatch it up.

Only, this time, it’s not a hookup I’ve forgotten about. It’s my security system letting me know that a black Mercedes has pulled into my underground garage.

It seems my oldest brother has decided to pay me an early morning visit.

I’m cracking my eggs into a pan when the elevator doors ping open, and Ronan strolls in, followed by Brennan.

Brennan scoffs. “Couldn’t have showered first?”

“I wasn’t expecting company.” I shoot Ronan a glare.

“Ciara needs the peace and quiet.” He shrugs before taking a seat on one of the metal stools tucked beneath the kitchen island.

“And I don’t?”

Brennan picks up the empty pot and waves it around. “You’re out of coffee.”

He opens it again and looks inside as if it might have suddenly magically refilled itself.

I narrow my eyes at Ronan. “You could have at least left him behind.”

“He’s like a sad puppy. He just gives me those eyes, and I can’t say no.”

I clap Ronan on the shoulder. “You’ve gone soft, brother. You’re going to have to work on that before those kids of yours arrive; otherwise you’ll be royally fucked. But at least you’ve gotten some solid practice in with this one over here.”

I snatch the coffee pot out of Brennan’s hand before he can break it and get to work fixing us a fresh pot.

From the serious look on Ronan’s face, I have a feeling we’re going to need it.

As he works, and I finish making my breakfast, I only half listen to their conversation. Most of the time, Ronan only talks about Ciara, which is both cute and nauseating.

I’m glad he’s happy, but I also wish he didn’t have to rub his happiness in my goddamn face all the time.

Brennan smirks. “I still can’t believe you’re going to have two kids. I would have put money on Kieran knocking someone up first.”