Page 167
He is dressed for business, not for war.
His gun stays raised while his eyes sweep over me, before moving to the bodies and the corridor behind him.
The gold strap of his watch catches beneath the emergency lights.
“Fionn,” I whisper.
He checks the magazine in his gun without answering, glances behind him and turns to leave.
Anger gets me on my feet before he takes another step.
I climb over the dead man and grab Fionn’s arm, positioning myself in front of him. “Why the fuck are ya here? Are the Harringtons attacking us?”
“This is Crowe.”
Gunfire cracks again, closer this time, and another shout carries through the building.
“Then why did ya come?”
“Attacking the port affects Harrington business.”
I stare into the eyes that found me through smoke, bullets, and half the fucking docks.
“You’re a terrible liar, Fionn.”
“Sera.”
“Why are ya pretending it meant nothing?”
His hand closes around my arm, and he turns us so quickly that my back hits the wall. His body crowds mine while his gun stays angled away at his side.
“Answer me.”
He lets go, but doesn’t step back.
Instead, his fingers slide beneath the collar of my top to find the chain resting against my skin. He draws the necklace into the light until the heart settles against my top, then presses his thumb over the black diamond letter.
“I wasn’t pretending,” he says. “F is for Fionn.”
I’d let myself believe it was for Fury because admitting I wanted to wear his initial had been too close to admitting what I wanted from him.
“You let me think it meant nothing.”
His eyes hold mine through the balaclava. “I know.”
“You let me hate you.”
“I know.”
There’s no apology, and I’m not sure I could accept one while the hurt is still burning through me.
“Why are ya really here?”
His gaze lowers to my mouth, although the black fabric still covers his.
“I wasn’t leaving you in here.”
The anger inside me collides with something hotter.
