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“Princess? You okay?”
I whimper, shaking my head. I’m not okay.Thisis not fucking okay, but I open my mouth, and those aren’t the words that leave. “Yes,” I say, my voice weak and unconvincing.
“Plug your ears, baby. Hide your face. It’s about to be loud and messy.”
I nod, doing as I’m told.
A single gunshot goes off. My entire body reverberates with the sound, and I let out a scream I can’t control. The fingers plugging my ears do nothing for the ringing in them. Scotty drops to his knees in front of me. He grabs me under my armpits and pulls me into his chest. I cling to the fabric of his dress shirt.
His warmth, the way he’s holding me so tight as if he’s worried I’ll slip away, the smell of his woodsy cologne. All of it reminds me of when we used to be friends, and I allow the tears I’ve been holding back to fall while I sink into him.
I sob while he shrugs off the black suit jacket and wraps it around my back to keep me warm. He strokes my hair, his lips pressing against the top of my head over and over as he whispers, “You’re okay. You’re good. I’ve got you.”
He lets me cry for as long as I need, rocking me, and petting me as he says encouraging things. When I’m finished, he presses one more kiss to my head, then reaches into the pocket inside of the jacket he gave me. He pulls his phone out, calling someone. One of my brothers, no doubt.
“You need to get to Saoirse’s. Now,” he says, his voice cold and void of any emotion. “All of you. And bring a mop bucket.”
Chapter Seven
I’veworndowntheenamel on my teeth from the amount of jaw clenching and grinding I’ve done while I hold Saoirse in my arms. She didn’t stop crying for a good twenty minutes, and I didn’t dare move her until she was ready.
The man from upstairs woke from the chokehold I put him in, though he’s tied up, handcuffed, and locked inside of the coat closet, unable to move. But I still would like to tend to that situation before he manages to break free.
I try to stand, but she grips onto me harder, her nails digging into my chest through my shirt. “Saoirse,” I say, cupping her face in my hands. I force her to look up at me. “Your brothers will be here any minute. Go upstairs and rinse this blood off you. Get dressed, and collect yourself.”
I stroke my thumb along the softness of her cheek, soothing her. She hates giving them any reason to treat her like a precious child unable to protect herself. Around me, Saoirse can break, she can take the time she needs to cry. But when her brothers step through the threshold, she needs to be put together. She won’t forgive herself if they see her this way.
She’s naked, covered in blood, and shivering cold. I managed to keep one of the men alive for torturing, but the other, the one who threatened to rape her, he deserved the bullet through his skull. The other one? Well, I’ll take his fucking eyes out when I’m through with him, for violating her privacy.
Saoirse lets out a soft whimper. She nods, pressing her hands to my shoulders. I grab her hips, helping her stand. When she’s settled on her feet, I hop up, and fasten the buttons on the jacket to keep it from falling off.
“Princess,” I say, using my authoritative voice.
She turns, looking at me through hazy eyes.
“Deep breaths. You’re alive.”
She swallows hard, reaching out to clutch my arms. Her bottom lip quivers, and she makes eye contact with me. Her tears drip like a leaky faucet, uncontrollable and steady. I swipe at them with my thumb as they fall onto her high cheekbones. I ignore the way her cool skin feels against my warm hands.
“Say it,” I demand.
“I–I’m …” She sucks in a shaky breath. “I’m alive.”
“Good girl.” I press my lips to her cheek.
I pull away, and I can’t stop my tongue from darting out and licking the saltiness of her tears from my lips. I close my eyes, cringing at the lack of self control I have right now. While this strong woman trusts me enough to fall apart in my arms, I’m lapping up her tears like a crazed person.
I want to savor it though, because I already know tomorrow is a new day. When the sun rises, she’ll wake and remember just how much she hates me. But right now, before anyone walks through that door, I’m going to be selfish and take this moment for myself.
With one last shaky breath, she pulls away from me and heads for the stairs. Her body tenses, and she straightens her posture. She’s already slipped back into the mask she wears. The sleeves of my jacket hang far over her hands, and as if it were a dress, the end of it stops well past her mid thigh.
When she’s out of my line of sight, I head for the closet. I haven’t forgotten about the fucker I allowed to live. I drag his thrashing body to the sofa in her living room just as the front door swings open. The Murphy boys make their way through the house, bickering at a high volume.
Haley’s voice can even be heard, and I smile, knowing she’d never allow her fiancé to leave her out of the fun.
”—Told her to stay home, but she insists on being difficult,“ Callum Murphy says in that familiar Irish lilt.
“I’m not difficult. What if someone needs medical attention?” Haley asks.
