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“These Little girls love to torture everyone else. I think they need a taste of their own medicine,” Declan says.
The rest of the men nod.
“Totally. What are you guys thinking?” Bash asks.
Ronan shrugs. “Cut off their toes?”
Kieran pulls a knife from his suit pocket. “That might work.”
Our eyes bug out as he flicks the blade open.
“I think I know something that would be more effective,” Grady says.
“Like what?” Kieran asks, tucking his knife away.
Grady’s eyes sparkle as he grins wickedly at us. “Tickle torture.”
Both of us start shaking our heads.
“No. That’s okay. We’ll pass. No torture needed,” Cali says.
Killian nods. “Oh, I think it’s more than needed. You two need to learn a lesson. The mafia way.”
I hold up my hands because obviously that will stop them if they attack us. “Actually, we already learned our lesson. No fish. Got it. We’ll send these guys back. No tickling required.”
The men exchange glances then narrow their eyes toward us.
“Get them,” Declan commands.
All six come for us, but we’re smaller and faster, though I think they’re giving us a head start.
We scream and squeal as we run through the house with these terrifying men chasing us. From the guest room to one of the living rooms, then down the stairs to the theater room and then the big living room where they finally catch us.
“Help!” I scream.
Patrick and Cullen appear but do absolutely nothing to help us before they shrug and leave us to our tickle torture. I’m starting to regret saving him. Big jerk.
“Mercy!” we call out over and over.
Finally, when we’re all out of breath on the floor, they give us the mercy we’ve been begging for.
“No more piranhas. You can keep the ones you already got but no more,” Declan says.
I grin. “Sharks?”
Killian groans. “Jesus. You two are never going to give us a break, are you?”
“Would you want us to?” I ask.
He stares at me lovingly and smiles. “Never.”
I grin and crawl over to him. “I didn’t think so. Hey, have you been eating Cheetos?”
His eyebrows furrow. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Daddy, you have orange dust on the corner of your lips.”
“No, I don’t,” he replies, wiping the wrong side of his mouth.
In one swift move, I lean forward and lick the correct corner. “Then why do you taste like Cheetos?”
He sighs dramatically. “They’re fucking good, okay? I can’t stop eating those damn things. I’m hooked. You got me hooked. I’m addicted.”
I burst out laughing. When I finally calm down, I look him in the eye. “You got me hooked too. But it’s the best addiction I could have because I’m hooked on you.”
His green eyes sparkle as he wraps me in his arms and holds me close. “Same, baby girl. Same.”
* * *
