by Sophia Gray
He didn’t say anything for a moment, then he leaned forward and cupped my cheek with his free hand. His thumb caressed my cheekbone, then he closed the distance between us. His lips touched mine and it was incredibly, sweetly gentle. It was a thank you as much as a kiss, and if I hadn’t already been halfway gone, I would be now.
It was only a kiss. I might have let it go farther, but Ciaran pulled away this time. He settled back against the couch and pulled me with him. I curled up against his side, laying my head against his chest. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, securing me to his side. We watched the fire for a long time and eventually, I felt my eyelids get heavy. I couldn’t say for sure when, but I did finally doze off, listening to the steady beat of his heart and feeling the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest.
I didn’t dream of dead women and I didn’t think of all the ways this was all going to go wrong.
Chapter 13
Ciaran
It was morning. I was still on the couch and had Elle curled up against me. At some point I’d grabbed the throw blanket and covered up our bodies for warmth. The fire had mostly died, nothing but glowing embers left, but the heater was on, so despite the chill of the morning I felt pretty comfortable.
More than that, I found I enjoyed having Elle in my arms—even if we didn’t need to do so for warmth.
Still, I couldn’t help but frown. She was determined to go to the police. I’d bought myself some time, but I was beginning to realize she wasn’t going to just drop this. She wasn’t that kind of woman. But I hoped she’d give me enough time to figure out the best way to involve the police. Mostly since not involving them at all didn’t seem to be an option. I’d have to work things out before she insisted I call someone in.
In the meantime, I was still trying to make calls of my own. Thus far, I’d been having trouble getting ahold of anyone.
I got up carefully, making sure I didn’t wake Elle. I paused, looking down at her. She looked peaceful, her hair looking a little weathered and unruly, her face unlined and soft. Her blue eyes were closed, but I knew how big they were, how intense. She looked so sweet in that moment. I leaned over and pulled the blanket up higher on her to make sure she was covered. She buried herself a little deeper into the couch in response, eyes still closed, clearly still asleep.
I went to the fire and stoked it. Adding a few more logs, I got it going again and when it was ablaze, I headed into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. Along the way, I grabbed the cordless landline phone. My cell was still MIA and probably hanging out with my motorcycle, my jacket, and my damn keys.
I dialed Horace’s number as I measured out the coffee and started the pot. I grabbed two mugs and checked to see if I had creamer in the fridge. I did, and it was even still good. There wasn’t a lot more, but there was some milk and I knew there was both cereal and oatmeal in the pantry. Meaning at least we wouldn’t go completely hungry.
The coffee machine started rumbling as the phone rang. I was just giving up on anyone answering when I heard the knock on the door.
I put the phone down since it was clear no one was going to pick up and headed towards the door. When I opened it I was surprised to see the back of one of my men, Patrick, heading way from the house.
Confused, I called out, “Patrick? The hell?”
He whipped around to face me, shock registering on his face. Like he hadn’t expected me to be there. But shock wasn’t the only thing on his face. He was bruised a little, telling me he’d been in a fight with someone. He didn’t look like he was in too bad of shape, but no one would suggest he was in good shape right now either. “Oh, man, you’re back!” he said, and hurried up to me.
“Yeah, I got in last night. I’ve been trying to get ahold of someone, anyone, but haven’t gotten a soul to pick up.” I looked him over once. “The hell happened to you?”
Patrick waved off his bruises. “Fight with some of the Hounds. Most of us look like this right now.”
My eyebrows rose in question.
“Shit, you haven’t heard? They went after the shop and—”
I ushered him inside. I wasn’t sure I wanted to since Elle was still in the den sleeping, but I didn’t want to leave him standing out in the cold and I definitely didn’t want to risk someone finding this place and seeing him standing out on the porch.
“And what?” I urged, leading him into the kitchen.
He followed obediently, sniffing the air. “That coffee? Mind if I have a cup?” I shook my head and used the mug I’d been planning on giving to Elle. I poured two cups, then urged him to keep going. “So they went after the shop, right? It was just as we were closing. Came barging in, guns blazing. Hell, we lost four guys. Hell of a thing. I don’t even think we did more than wound one of theirs.” He shook his head. “Damn shame.”
“I saw the shop,” I admitted. Patrick sipped at his coffee, wincing when it was too hot still. “And…Ma told me about the guys.” My throat closed up at the mention of her and realizing I was going to have to explain. That nothing about today or the days that followed would be easy in that regard. “About Ma—” I began, but Patrick interrupted me.
“Shane’s been running his mouth about how you’re dead,” Patrick continued, oblivious to my grief. “He said it was time to make a decision: the Lucky Skulls or the Irish Hounds. With you dead, he figured he’d get the lot of us.”
Cold anger settled in my gut. “Did we lose any to him?”
Patrick nodded. “Yeah, a couple of assholes. We don’t need ’em. The rest are true, boss.”
I felt a little better to hear most of my guys were loyal until the very end, but I couldn’t lie and say it didn’t bother me to know even a couple of them left. Like they didn’t care who was leading them so long as they didn’t have to worry about it themselves.
It made me furious, but I shoved the anger down. For now.
Patrick continued his report. “When he didn’t get as many of us as he hoped, he got pissed. You know what kind of temper that asshole’s got. He lost his shit. He declared war on us. Said anyone who was still a Skull was fair game. We’ve been holed up since at McMillan’s. Cramped as shit if you ask me, but we’re still relatively safe.”
Shaking my head, I tried to work through all of this. All-out war on the Skulls. Not a good thing. Especially since we weren’t as organized, as prepared, as we should have been. I should have been ready for this. Hope for peace, but prepare for war, right? But I hadn’t been preparing. I’d been too busy feeling secure in the knowledge that it was our territory first. I’d been foolish.
“Look, Shane’s gotta know you’re alive now, right?” Patrick half asked, half stated. I nodded my head. “So that means he’s after you again. Gonna try to finish what he started.”
I nodded. “He’s already started.”
I briefly went over the events of the previous day. I didn’t want to linger on what happened to Ma, but the horror was plain on his face. And then the anger. It came swiftly, just as I knew it would with the rest of the guys once they heard of what happened. We talked a little about it afterwards. The police would find her soon, but it would likely be one of Shane’s boys who got the case. We talked about the repercussions, who was going to be blamed. Then we just talked about Ma.
By the time Patrick finally left, I felt emotionally worn out. But I was angry, too. Angry that Shane was doing all of this. None of it had to happen. I’d been willing to compromise for peace. He wasn’t. Now there were lives at stake and he didn’t seem to give a shit about any of them.
I closed the door behind my friend, promising that I would head to McMillan’s soon. I didn’t mention Elle yet because I wasn’t sure what to say about her.
And I wasn’t sure if I should mention her at all or if she would want me to.
When I turned away from the door, I saw her standing there with her arms crossed, still dressed in the shirt she’d slept in last night. My shirt.
I cleared my throat. “How long have you
been standing there?”
She shrugged a little. “Long enough.”
There was a long pause before she spoke again. “Is this really just about territory and sibling rivalry?” Elle asked, hugging herself and looking up at me with those huge blue eyes. Like she would believe me, whatever I told her, but it was because she wanted to, not because I was probably telling the truth.
That was what made me admit that there was more to the story. A part I hadn’t wanted to share. I hesitated still, but knew I had to be upfront with her. She needed to know what she was in the middle of. I took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “No. It’s not. That’s how it started, but…well, it’s gotten more complicated than that. His name was Macalister and he was just a punk kid sent on a fool’s errand.”
Elle took a careful breath, then asked slowly, cautiously, “What happened?”
I remembered the fight. I shouldn’t have been out that night. I shouldn’t have been at the docks. But I was and I knew someone was following me. Rumors and warnings both had brought me there, but it had all been a set up. What was worse, for all Shane’s anger, I wasn’t sure he hadn’t set that poor kid up. If he really expected Macalister to take me out, he was a fool. But if he didn’t think the kid was up to it, why send him at all? Unless Shane had already written him off.
The thought made my guts churn uncomfortably. I didn’t want to think that was true. Surely there was some sort of decency left buried inside my brother. But even as I hoped and wished that, I remembered how callously his men had gunned down Ma. Shane hadn’t been there, but I didn’t think they would have done that if Shane hadn’t given them the okay.
After all, she had raised him, too. Meaning she should have been off limits to everyone in the Irish Hounds. I couldn’t imagine any of them being that stupid.
They must have had permission.
Which meant Macalister had probably been set up just as I had. Maybe it was an initiation rite, a prove your mettle moment. I didn’t know and I didn’t care. Because whether Shane set him up or not, he was still very dead. And that was on my hands.
I swallowed before I answered Elle. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to see the way she would look at me when she realized I, too, was a murderer. I didn’t want her to realize the man she’d shared a bed with—or a couch and a floor—the last three nights was a monster. But I found I had to tell her. Maybe it was respect or the sense that she would know I was lying, but I had to be honest with her.
“It was several months ago,” I told her, remembering that night as clearly as this moment right now. “A couple of the boys tipped me off that one of Shane’s goons was causing trouble down at the docks. One of the guys could have gone, but for some reason I insisted on going that night. I don’t know whether I’m grateful or upset with myself for insisting like that, but it doesn’t matter now. I went. Can’t change that.”
She nodded, indicating to me that she was still listening. Her blue eyes watched me like a hawk, her ears straining to hear every word that slipped out. Like this was juicy gossip, or like she wanted desperately to understand.
I hoped it was the latter.
“I went down to the docks, but when I got there it was deserted.” I paused, then added, “At least it seemed that way. But Shane had sent one of his men to follow me—and to kill me. At least I think so.” He did try to kill me, I reassured myself. I was right about this. I hadn’t killed that kid for no reason. And even then, I hadn’t meant to kill him. He’d fallen into that pipe—okay, I’d shoved him into it—but I didn’t mean to. It hadn’t been my intention to shove a pole through his chest.
Elle put a hand lightly on my arm, bringing me back to her. She smiled softly, if a little sadly. “Tell me.”
“He swung a two-by-four at my head,” I told her, willing her to understand. I placed my hand over hers on my arm and hoped, somehow, she did. “I did what I had to do. But I didn’t mean to kill him. It…it just happened.”
For a second, she froze. I worried that the moment I was completely up front with her about it, the moment I said “killed,” she would freak out. After all, I was no better than those men who murdered Ma, right? She was someone’s mother, but that kid had a mother, too. A mother who was never going to see her little boy again. Because of me.
But then Elle did the strangest thing. She stepped closer to me and wrapped her arms around my chest. “You won’t hurt me,” she whispered softly to me, shocking the hell out of me. “I know it. And I know if you could have avoided it, you wouldn’t have killed him.”
I let out a shuddering breath and held her back. I told myself I did what I had to do. Reminded myself it was self-defense. But there was always a part of me that wouldn’t be sure and there was always a part of me that would question if there hadn’t been some other way to get around it. “How do you know that?” I whispered, embracing her even if I wasn’t sure I deserved it.
She held me tighter. “Because I know what kind of a man you are.”
She pulled back to look at me, but I shook my head. “You can’t know—”
But Elle put her fingertips to my lips, stopping me in my tracks. She shushed me, then she leaned up, standing on her toes, until she could press her lips softly against mine. My eyes closed and I fell into the kiss. Her lips were full and soft, warm, pliant. I pressed mine harder against them.
My arms tightened around her waist, hugging her tightly against my body. Her full breasts flattened against my chest and I felt the now familiar urge to have her. Her arms wound up around my neck and her hands found the tips of my hair, winding it around her delicate fingers.
I let my hands wander her body, grateful she was only wearing my t-shirt, grateful she was pressed up against me, and that she’d started the kiss this time.
My hands slipped to the hem of that shirt, finding her smooth, milky thighs. I followed them up higher until I was fully beneath that shirt, my hands caressing her perky ass. I was pleasantly surprised to find she didn’t have any underwear. I remembered her clothes were still at Ma’s and there was a chance that, like the bra, she hadn’t borrowed any underwear.
Which suited me just fine.
She moaned into my mouth and I took the opportunity to slide my tongue in. She held me tighter, pulled me closer, sending me all the right signals. She wanted more.
And I was all about giving it to her.
I gave her ass a squeeze, then moved my hands up higher, taking the shirt with me. I felt along the small of her back, trailed a finger along her spine. She shivered and moaned again. I swallowed the sound, continuing to press heated kisses to her. When my palms flattened across her shoulder blades, I finally broke the kiss and pulled back.
Elle didn’t seem to like that and tried to lean towards me again. I smirked, pleased with her reaction, but said, “I want your shirt off.”
She paused and the air was thick with tension. There was no mistaking what I wanted now and she had to honestly think about whether or not she wanted it, too.
She stepped back, extracting her hands from my body, and I felt disappointment wash through me. I was sure this meant rejection, but then she grabbed the hem of her shirt and jerked it up over her head. She let it fall to the floor, her entire body bare before me.
My eyes took the time to devour her small but curvy frame. Her hair cascaded in wild curls down her back and across her left shoulder, having dried without so much as a brush to tame them. Her breasts were full and perky, her nipples already erect. Her body tapered down then to form a tiny waist before flaring out to those wide hips I’d come to like so much. Her legs went on for miles.
Her body wasn’t a carbon copy of the image I’d had in my head, the body from the dream, but it was close. Which meant she was so Goddamned hot that she was my wet dream. In real life.
I walked to her, but she held out a hand to stop me. She gestured to my own clothing. “Fair is fair.”
I smirked at her, but agreed without hesitation. I jerked my shirt up over
my head, exposing the hard muscles I’d earned from hours in the gym and working at the shop. I felt her eyes on me, devouring me just as I’d done to her. It sent another wave of desire through me. There was little more powerful than knowing someone else wanted you.
My fingers began to undo my belt and then my jeans. Her eyes were riveted to the movements and when I kicked of the remaining layers of my clothing, I saw her suck in a quick breath.
When we came together again, I grabbed her by the hips and jerked her up in one smooth motion. Her legs automatically parted and wrapped themselves tightly around me. Her arms wound around my neck again and she found my lips. Our mouths opened instantly this time as I held her tightly against me.
