Page 108 of Stolen Rebel

“I’m a work in progress.”

“You’re thirty-three, old man. Better get a move on. You don’t have all that long left.”

She’s teasing me, and I fucking love it. “You are only eight years younger than me not eighty, so don’t pull that ‘old man’ bollocks.” Her eyes twinkle and if possible, I fall deeper in love with her.

“Fess up, then, Mr. Mafioso. What are you sorry for?”

I shuffle my feet, staring at the ground for a beat before forcing my gaze to hers. “For the way I treated you when I found you in that pub. For keeping you locked in a warehouse and scaring the shit out of you. For not, oh I don’t know, finding a way to get through to you that didn’t involve threats and appalling treatment. I was just so⁠—”

She silences me with a kiss. I clasp the back of her head and deepen our connection, my tongue stroking hers, my body inching closer and closer. She burrows her hands beneath my jacket and underneath my t-shirt, warming her palms on my back. I lose track of time, lost in her, the woman I nearly lost for good.

“Can you do something for me?”

I tuck hair taken by the wind behind her ear. “For you, anything.”

“Bring me back here when the weather is warmer. I’d like to revisit a memory.” She trails a fingertip from my neck to my chest. “As I recall, I have a bit of a kink for outdoor sex.”

I run my tongue along the underside of my teeth. “Oh, I remember.”

She smiles, tipping up her chin to peck my lips. “Will you do something else for me?”

“Name it.”

“Take me home.”

Chapter 48

ROWAN

Liam leaves me to my thoughts on the way home, and I’m glad. I’m still processing the fact that a man is dead because of me, and so is his mother. Even though I know Liam would never have let Brian live, it doesn’t change the fact that I asked him to kill him.

I can’t believe Brian is dead. Gone. Five whole years of my life reduced to a discarded body on a dirty, warehouse floor. It still doesn’t feel like I won or got anything back when he took his last breath, though. Maybe it never will.

I stare out the window, the Irish countryside blurring past in streaks of dark green and gray. My reflection stares back at me in the glass. The woman I see is pale but determined. Strong. A woman he couldn’t break. Liam’s hand rests on my thigh, his warmth grounding me, his thumb rhythmically stroking back and forth. Mahoney Manor looms into view like a beacon on the horizon.

The car barely stops before the front door of the house swings open. Sorcha’s already moving, already running down the steps, her arms outstretched, relief written all over her face.

She was the only safe space I’d carved out, at least I thought so. Liam was my enemy, he kidnapped me, interrogated me, tested me… Sorcha… She was my ally, the “girl’s girl” who gave me her car keys, chocolate, and a listening ear. I’d bet a tenner she told Patrick about my phone, too.

Talk about betrayal.

It’s further proof that in this world, even the women who smile at you are just helping the men hold the leash.

She gave me the keys to her car with one hand, and the tether with the other.

Some girl’s girl.

My blood boils. I see red. I’m so tired of being controlled by everyone.

“Rowan—” She doesn’t get any further, because whatever she sees on my face grinds her to a halt.

I step out of the car slowly, my body stiff. When she reaches me, I don’t lift my arms. I don’t step into her embrace. I just stand there.

Confusion and hurt flickers on her face. “Rowan?” Her voice is softer now. “You’re safe. It’s okay⁠—”

“Don’t.” My voice cuts through the air like broken glass. It doesn’t even sound like it’s my own.

Her hands drop from where they hovered. “What⁠—”