Nightshade

by Molly McAdams

  I turned to find Kieran where I’d left him—his eyes locked on my bed and jaw clenched tight. His chest was expanding with rough jerks, and that hatred in his eyes was more evident than ever.

  Feeling is mutual, Nightshade.

  Forcing my mouth to crack into a smile, I sauntered toward him as I let the shirt fall over my body, covering me.

  “Does seeing another woman undress make you uncomfortable after the little mob princess slipped through your fingers?” I giggled darkly when his cruel glare locked on me and shifted my arms into the shirt to work off my bra. I pulled it off slowly, palming the smaller knife I kept clipped to the front of it before tossing the bra onto my bed. “What does he give her that you couldn’t?”

  The muscles in Kieran’s jaw ticked, and the anger rolling off his body suddenly felt like a living thing. But his stare never wavered from mine as I soundlessly opened the knife at my side.

  “Or did I hit a little too close for comfort last night?” I asked, my voice both seductive and mocking as I took another step closer to him and then another. “Could you just not satisfy her?”

  “Enough.”

  My brows rose at the growl behind his demand. “Is that right?”

  His eyes held so much warning as I took the last step to press my body against his.

  My body trembled and begged to get closer still, but I forced myself not to move.

  I hated him for the way he felt.

  I hated him for the way my body craved more and betrayed me.

  I hated him for everything he was and for making me want him in a way I’d never wanted a man.

  I hated him.

  “Who knew the mob’s feared assassin was lacking.”

  One second I was in front of him, staring into those wild eyes, the next I was pressed face-first to the wall with Kieran’s hard body caging me against it. His strong hands were pinning mine to the wall. My knife was gone.

  His chest moved roughly against my back, his breath made my hair dance along my cheek and lips, and I ached to push against where I could feel his hardened length in his jeans.

  Oh God.

  What is wrong with me?

  I tried to force a wild laugh from my lungs.

  I tried to taunt him.

  But there was nothing.

  “How long?” he demanded, his voice hoarse.

  I curled my hands against the wall and shivered beneath him when he moved closer and pressed our hands harder to the wall.

  “What?” I asked breathlessly.

  “How long have you been watching us?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  A huff tumbled from my lips when his mouth met my ear. The sound ended on a whimper when the movement forced my butt against his erection.

  I needed the heavy, sickening feeling weighing my body down. I needed the disgust and hatred at having a man so close. I needed the reminder of who I was and why I did what I did.

  But all I could smell was the subtle hint of his soap.

  All I could see was his tattooed arms twisting over mine.

  All I could feel was his lean muscles crowding around me in a way that felt so foreign and good.

  And I wanted more . . .

  Weak. So weak.

  “How long?”

  My body tensed.

  If he had yelled the question, it might have been easier. But there was something truly terrifying in the soft tenor of his voice. And for the first time, I was afraid to be in the same room as him.

  But I wasn’t scared for my life.

  I was scared for my soul.

  I slowly looked over my shoulder and forced myself to hold his disturbing stare. “Nearly half my life.”

  “Why?”

  “I have my reasons.”

  His eyes burned coldly, maliciously . . . and with something I couldn’t define. “Then tell me why I shouldn’t kill you now.”

  “Because you don’t want to.”

  “I wouldn’t be sure about that.”

  “If you wanted me dead, I would be,” I said. “Besides, the only reason you know now is because Beck can’t keep his damn mouth shut. If you hadn’t been there last night, you’d go on with your life, never knowing I existed. Never knowing that I slip onto the estate that houses the men trying to tear my mom from me.”

  His mouth set in a hard line when I finished speaking. As if he was waiting for me to continue . . . as if he was searching for some hidden message in my words when there was none.

  “Now tell me why you’re here.”

  “I have my reasons,” he murmured, throwing my words back at me.

  “I bet you do.” I arched against the wall in an attempt to push him back, but another whimper tumbled from my lips. “I’m sure my winning personality isn’t one of them,” I said breathlessly.

  Weak . . . so weak.

  “My wallet is.”

  A smile broke free. “Now I know you’re here just to see me since I put it where it belongs.”

  I was turned as quickly as before. Within a beat of my heart, my back was against the wall, and an assassin was pressing me harder against it, towering over me.

  My legs felt unsteady.

  “Where?”

  The corner of my mouth lifted in a mocking grin. “Anywhere you want me.”

  He forced me back, this time rougher, and I somehow managed a wild slip of a laugh when all I wanted was to beg to feel his lips on my own.

  How can you want him?

  He’ll ruin you.

  “Where is it?” he growled through clenched teeth.

  “You’re a heavy sleeper,” I hinted.

  It was then I realized I was shaking.

  Except I wasn’t.

  Kieran was vibrating so violently it was shaking me too.

  With a hard shove, he pushed away from the wall and me, forcing a huff from my chest at the sudden loss of his body.

  His chest rose and fell roughly as he watched for immeasurable seconds, his hateful glare searing me, making me feel even more horrified for the parts of me that had wanted him.

  When he stepped back to leave, I nodded toward the door of my room. “Don’t forget to close the window this time.”

  “What window?”

  “The one you left open. When you let yourself in,” I said slowly when he didn’t react in any way.

  Kieran’s head tilted slightly, like he was listening for something. His eyes drifted from my room toward the hall, and then with another hard glare at me, he turned to leave.

  My heart raced when he only made it a few steps before stopping.

  That small voice inside was begging him to turn around. To close the distance between us.

  To make me feel something other than the hatred and fear and disgust I’d felt my entire life.

  Weak.

  Head up.

  Shoulders back.

  Lips twisted.

  Eyes laughing.

  He gripped the door in one hand and the frame in the other before finally looking over his shoulder.

  “Tell me something.”

  I lifted a brow and waited.

  “Why did you turn Beck down?”

  I lost my hold on my strength at the unexpected turn in the question. “What, he didn’t tell you?” When Kieran didn’t respond, I huffed and folded my arms under my chest. “He knows. That’s all that matters.”

  “Jessica.”

  I refused to acknowledge the way my knees shook when my name crawled from his throat. Refused to acknowledge the way my stomach swirled with heat. “Yes, Nightshade?”

  “Why did you turn Beck down?”

  “What was this, gossip hour between the boys? I hate him. Isn’t that enough of a reason?”

  “Not when you’ve been following him and watching us despite turning him down.”

  I lifted my chin and stared down the assassin in front of me. “He wanted me to belong to him. I belong to no man. I have my reasons for continuing to watch.”

  K
ieran studied me for a few seconds. Then with a hard nod, he slipped from my room.

  I didn’t hear his steps down the hall.

  I didn’t hear him leave.

  And he took my damn knife.

  Rage pounded through my veins as I stalked out of the meeting room and through the Holloway mansion.

  My hands were clenched into fists at my sides, though my fingers ached to reach out and grab one of the blades hidden on me.

  Bailey. Finn. Mickey . . .

  I could only imagine my expression promised murder, considering number three on my list had just reminded me that he remained untouchable. For now. And that the rest of us still risked his wrath.

  For once, that wrath wasn’t me.

  It was the first Sunday meeting Mickey had been to since all the shit had gone down with the Borellos. And he’d taken the opportunity to remind nearly every man who worked for him why they loved him. Why they blindly followed him. All the while he’d subtly hinted at a traitor within Holloway. He’d loosely suggested that people who craved power couldn’t be trusted.

  His eyes had locked on one person.

  Me.

  I stormed into my room, but when I gripped my door to shut it, I realized how different my room felt.

  Everything stilled.

  All the rage and hatred and fear burning inside me froze.

  A knife was in my hand in an instant, and I was listening for any sounds that shouldn’t be there. But all I could hear was my own heart and the rain.

  The rain. My window was open, and it was fucking raining.

  I let out a frustrated breath and closed the knife as I walked over to shut the window. My movements slowed when I glanced down at the carpet and saw small, wet footprints leading away from the window.

  I strained to hear anything as I slid the window down, but there was no indication that anyone was still in the room until something sharp pressed against my spine.

  Despite my previous anger and the monster that flickered to life inside me, respect for this girl forced a corner of my mouth up.

  She was so damn quiet.

  “We’ve got to stop meeting like this, Nightshade.”

  I glanced over my shoulder and bit back a curse when I saw her.

  Dark hair soaked from the rain, dripping onto the carpet. Thin shirt plastered to her body. Her chest rising and falling heavily, emphasizing her full breasts.

  She was every man’s fantasy mixed with danger and chaos.

  And she knew it. Used it.

  I hated her for it.

  For what she was and for still inciting a reaction in me. For intriguing me and making me want her when I’d spent my life focused on one other girl.

  “Then again, I’m starting to think you want to since you took this.” She dug the knife harder into my back, her tone breathless and seductive.

  I let my body fall toward the window when I felt her lean into me again, spinning away at the last second so she stumbled into the window and I was now behind her.

  I grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand behind her back, higher and higher until she cried out and released her hold on the knife.

  “Thought I’d hold on to it until I got my wallet back,” I growled into her ear. “Figured if I found what was mine, you’d know where to find what was yours.”

  Her near-black eyes found mine. Chaos and laughter and something destructive swirled deep within them. The makeup around them was smeared from the rain, and fuck me if it didn’t make her sexier.

  “You got your knife. Why are you still here?” Tossing the knife toward my bed, I pressed her firmly against the glass and spoke in a low tone. “You have three seconds.”

  Her full lips curled into a sneer.

  “Two.”

  “I’m looking for something.” Anger filled her confession. Fear replaced the hint of teasing laughter usually present in her words.

  My heart rate slowed, but I fought that consuming darkness. “Wrong answer.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “How long have you been watching us?”

  “I already told you,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “How long has Mickey had you watching us?”

  She jerked against me, her face tightening with disgust. “Unlike some assassins in the room, I wouldn’t do a thing for that sick fuck if my life depended on it.”

  The monster flickered and groaned. My chest rose and fell in rough jerks as every kill flashed through my mind until the faces blurred together. As the memories of every meeting held off this estate turned my stomach to lead. As every betrayal to my blood made the suspicion of the girl in my arms grow.

  All under Mickey’s orders or in an attempt to stop him.

  I ground my teeth and tried to force every dark and destructive need away.

  “Then tell me why.”

  One of her eyebrows arched. “I have my reasons.”

  “Keeping those reasons to yourself might get you killed, Jessica.”

  Despite the warning, her lips parted with an exhale and her eyes darkened with need.

  A need I refused to acknowledge or explore.

  But in those seconds, the space around us felt like it came alive.

  And then she opened her mouth.

  “You’re one to talk, Nightshade.” That taunting was back. As if every word was edging on a manic laugh. “Your secrets lost you a princess.”

  I jolted, the movement jerking her arm up higher and causing her to cry out. But the cry ended with a wild laugh as she tried to press back against me.

  “Your secrets got you stabbed in the back,” she continued, her eyes getting brighter with excitement the angrier I got. “What was it about her anyway? What was it about Lily O’Sullivan that turned Holloway’s assassin into a man wandering around lost?”

  “She wasn’t a whore.”

  The words were out before I could stop them. And, God, I wished I could’ve stopped them.

  I wanted to beg her to forgive me, but the words wouldn’t form.

  I couldn’t figure out how to ask her forgiveness when I wanted to hate the girl pressed against me—when I wanted her to hate me. When I still couldn’t be sure she didn’t have something to do with Mickey’s investigation on the Holloway members.

  Our ragged breaths and the rain hitting the window were the only sounds in the room. The sudden silence between us felt crushing as seconds slipped by.

  “Fuck you, Kieran.” The insult was nothing but a breath on her lips when she finally spoke. And it felt like a knife to my chest.

  “Jessica . . .”

  Loud banging sounded on my door followed by Conor’s frantic voice. “Kieran. Kieran.”

  I hadn’t even heard him walking down the hall.

  He tried the knob, but the door didn’t give. “Open up, man.”

  I stared at Jessica for another few seconds, dropped her hand, and stepped away.

  Before I could tell her to hide or leave, she was backing away from the window into the darker corner of my room.

  I started turning toward the door, hissing a curse when the cold air in the room hit my wet chest from where she’d been pressed up against me.

  Conor tried the knob again and knocked harder. “Kieran.”

  Gripping my shirt, I tore it off and threw it across the room then hurried to unlock the door.

  If I hadn’t felt like such an ass, I would’ve been more impressed that I’d never heard her lock it.

  I barely had the door cracked before Conor was shoving it open and barreling inside.

  “Beck told me.” The guy was six and a half feet tall and a solid wall of muscle—a nearly identical build to his brother. But right then he seemed to crumble on himself. “You’ve gotta help me.”

  “I’m trying,” I said in a low, placating tone. “Finding a ghost takes time.”

  My eyes darted through my seemingly empty room as I wondered if the ghost had already come to me. And what that wraith of a girl would do with the things
she overheard then.

  “Beck wants me to run.”

  “Don’t.”

  “Don’t?” he asked, his chest heaving with a stuttered breath. “Don’t? If I don’t, I’m standing here waiting for him to kill me. And I don’t know why my grave’s being dug. I tried to . . . I did everything to keep Lily safe.”

  “I know you did.” I looked at Conor, cursing myself for being the reason he was in this impossible situation.

  I’d put him on Lily’s guard because it was supposed to be the safest position in Holloway.

  Supposed to.

  Then one night I’d sent him away to spy on a meeting for me. And the Borellos hit, looking for the girl they felt they deserved.

  The only remaining child of Mickey O’Sullivan. Lily.

  A week and a half later, I’d left to do a job for Mickey, and they’d hit again—almost killing Conor in the process.

  My fault. Always my fault.

  And all the while, Lily had been seeing the leader of the Borellos without him ever realizing her true identity.

  I’d been oblivious to it all.

  Not noticing the knife slowly inching into my back until it was piercing my heart. Not noticing the shadows I’d spent a lifetime hiding in were betraying me. Blinding me to what was happening right in front of me.

  But their betrayal had forced a truce between the Borellos and Holloways . . . and had been the ruining of Holloway.

  “It’s nothing you did,” I finally said. “He chose you because no one would want to see you die, and he needs to ensure his safety. But, running? Mickey would send me to find anyone who ran . . . I have no doubt he would do the same to whoever he hired.”

  Conor drove his hands into his hair, gripping fistfuls of it.

  “If you run, you will die. If you stay, I might have enough time to make this all go away.” I stepped toward Conor and clapped his shoulder, then dropped my voice low enough so Jessica couldn’t hear. “We just need to keep Mickey alive until I can kill the person he’s hired. All right?”

  Conor dropped his hands and gave a firm nod, but his face was covered in agony.

  He should’ve never seen this life.

  One day I’d get him out of it. I’d made that promise long ago, and I intended to see it through.

  As soon as he was out of my room, I shut and locked the door, then turned, and crossed my arms over my chest. Waiting for when she would appear.