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“Oh, fuck! Baby. Bash!” he roars.
Killian kneels beside me, his hands running up and down my body as he checks for injuries, asking me if I’m okay over and over.
“Call a chopper, we need to get her to the hospital. Get Patrick and Maxwell to come so they can keep guard,” Killian barks at Bash the second he comes running into the kitchen.
Grady is right behind him, and all three of them scan me for injuries. They all look scared to death.
“You guys, I’m fine. I’m not hurt. My bottom might be sore but I’m fine. I got paint on my foot and slipped.”
They all squint as though they’re trying to make sense of what I’m saying so I lift my foot and wiggle my paint-covered toes.
“Baby, why do you have paint on your feet?” Killian finally asks.
My shoulders shake as laughter bubbles up from my chest. “I was…uh, I got distracted.”
Thinking about your big dick… Not that I’m going to say that out loud. The smug ass smile he gives me tells me he already has an idea of my thoughts. I hate that he reads me so easily.
My blood heats, and my entire face feels flushed. Trying to avoid eye contact, I climb to my feet and glance at my painting.
“Do you guys like my art?”
They all look at it, eyebrows furrowed.
“It’s great, lass. What is it?” Grady asks.
I pop out my bottom lip and widen my eyes. “What do you mean? You can’t tell what it is? I worked so hard on it.”
Panic flashes in their eyes as they stare at my masterpiece, clearly trying to figure out what it is.
“You guys can’t tell what it is. I knew I was a terrible painter.”
Killian motions toward the easel. “You’re great, Little one. It’s obviously, uh, it’s the gardens and those are birds flying overhead.”
Bash nods. “Yep, it’s beautiful. I love the, the, uh, those trees?”
Grady elbows Bash in the ribs. I’m loving every second of making these men sweat. I even let my lip tremble for some extra drama, which only makes their eyes widen more.
“You did a great job, Scarlet. Definitely an artist. Love the, uh, flowers over there,” Grady says.
I glare at all of them and pop a hand on my hip. “It’s clearly a painting of a fish tank full of hungry piranhas waiting for some fresh fingers and toes to nibble on. How can you not see that? Trees? Seriously?”
Their eyes widen and they stare at me like I’ve grown a second head. The corner of Killian’s eye twitches, and I can’t hold it back anymore. I burst out laughing.
“Man, for a bunch of mafia guys, you panic easily.” Tears drip from my eyes as I laugh harder, trying to get words out. “It’s literally nothing. I was playing with the colors because they were so creamy and vibrant.”
The looks they give me would probably make a grown man pee himself. Not me, though. I continue to giggle, feeling extremely proud of myself.
Killian steps closer to the easel and narrows his eyes. “Hmm, I can see they are very smooth.”
He turns around before I realize what he’s doing and taps my nose, leaving a green fingerprint on the tip. I gasp in surprise as he chuckles.
“You did not just do that!” I glare at him.
“Oh, but I did, lass. What are you going to do about it?” he taunts.
Before I can get to the paints, Bash grabs me by the wrists and holds me tight while Killian dips his finger in another color and wiggles it in front of my face.
“You know, lass, the mafia specializes in torture,” Killian says.
