Chapter 3 Eian #3
Like I thought about doing earlier—or was it a day ago? Oh, who gives a damn what day it is. I count every single one of her fingers and leave the toes for later since she looks super cozy in yet another onesie I didn’t buy for her.
“We took good care of her,” the woman says, almost defensively. I don’t dare look up.
“I can tell,” I say simply.
“Colby, this is my sister, Aurora, but we call her Rory to make other people believe she’s sweet and kind.”
I guess finally having Maggie in my arms turns me into a brave imbecile, that’s the only explanation for my next words.
“I guess the crazy runs in the family, huh?”
I’m so startled by my own words I do look up then, into two blank gazes. They break out in laughter after a long moment. Nothing huge, they’re only chuckling, but still, the relief . . . it’s the size of Alaska.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
“It’s fine,” Rory says, waving a hand around carelessly. “I like to go with psychopath if you feel a need for labels, and this one is just too stupid for his own good.”
“Hey,” Duffy protests when she points her thumb at him.
“It’s nice that you’ve got each other,” I tell them, then go back to look at Maggie. If the words sound a bit too . . . honest, well then, who gives a fuck anyway?
“That they do.” A new voice comes from the doorway. A tall man with ginger hair that’s being taken over by gray, and an amused half smile aimed right at Duffy.
“Colby, this is Mac, my partner.”
“Oh, I . . . didn’t know the mob did that,” I say stupidly.
“Did what?” Duffy asks, and the tilt of his head and curious expression reminds me of the black lab I had when I was a kid.
“He thinks you meant romantic partners,” Rory tells Duffy, and leaves the moron implied by her tone unsaid.
“Oh, no.” Duffy snorts. “We’re like, work partners.”
Mac snickers at that and walks over to kiss Duffy on the forehead. I can’t help how high my eyebrows move up at that.
“But they aren’t straight either,” Rory chimes in. “That is a thing in the mob, by the way. Nowadays at least.” She mutters the last part, and now I’m even more curious.
Before I can ask, though, Eian strolls into the room looking like a man on a mission.
I don’t notice the syringe in his hand until he’s injecting whatever it is into Duffy’s IV.
“The fuck?” Duffy demands.
“Go to sleep,” Eian says, clearly not in a good mood. Then he turns to Rory. “Grab Maggie and get out,” he snaps at her, then turns to Mac and gives him a significant look.
I know it’s not genuine, but even in my stupor, I have to appreciate Rory’s soft smile when she goes to grab Maggie from my arms. It’s clear she’s making an effort to make me feel better, and I’m surprised by how she follows Eian’s commands without question, but I don’t give a shit, not when it comes to Maggie.
“No one is taking her away from me. I know I don’t look very threatening, but you just try me.” I’m talking to both of them as I bring Maggie closer to my chest, but I keep looking right into Rory’s eyes.
She just keeps staring back, for an uncomfortable amount of time, until I hear Eian’s long-suffering sigh.
“Fine, just get out, Rory.”
When the door clicks shut, I turn and find Duffy passed out—open mouth and everything. I can’t bring myself to look at Eian. I don’t know what the hell happened to me before, when he was here last time, but I can’t let that happen again. I need to control myself around him and—
My thoughts screech to a halt when I feel him move closer. He leans in uncomfortably close to my face, and puts a hand right by my head.
Can’t escape that stare now, I think to myself.
“Let me be perfectly clear, Colby Major.” Now that is how you intimidate a person, I think stupidly, unlike those dumb Italians.
“You put Duffy, me, and my whole fucking family in danger just because you wanted answers. I don’t know why, but he’s so attached to you that you’re one of the first things he thought about when he woke up from a fucking coma, and you better listen, because that means you now live in my world and by my rules. ”
He stops for a beat, and I don’t know for what, but I nod to show him I’m listening. I’m definitely riveted.
“Your life is now in my hands. It’s my job to make sure you keep that life, but it’s never going to be the same. Until I deem otherwise, you’re not going to do anything without my say-so. You eat when I tell you, sleep when I tell you, work when I tell you, you hear me?”
“I-I hear you,” I stutter, enjoying the full-force effect that deep, delicious voice is having on me.
“With your fucking spy act, you gave your identity and existence away to the Italians, and that’s possibly the worst thing you could’ve done for yourself, and for me. Because war is on the horizon, Colby, and like it or not, you’re now going to be a part of that.”
That is clearly a threat.
I don’t react well to threats.
“It’s not like I knew where to find Duffy,” I snap back, finding my backbone. “I didn’t even know for certain that he worked for you, but I was worried about him because I hadn’t heard anything for weeks. Also, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but you’re not an easy man to get a hold of.”
“That smart mouth is going to get you into trouble,” he growls at me.
Inching just a tiny bit closer, he lifts his hand from my pillow then ghosts the tip of his finger over my lower lip.
Getting into trouble doesn’t sound like the worst idea right now.
Not when I can smell his woodsy cologne—it fits him so, so well—or when he’s touching me, and those unforgiving eyes are holding me prisoner.
I shake my head to get rid of the damn lust-spell that’s inconvenient at best, deadly at worst, and pull back from his touch.
“You might have my life in your hands, Mr. Demspey, but I have something else that you’re gonna want.”
“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”
“I have information. A lot of information on those Italians you seem to dislike so much. I know you’re not the one trafficking people into the city to be sold and abused.”
He shoves off the pillow like it just burned him and pins me in place with a look so full of death my body shakes involuntarily.
“You’re biting off more than you can chew.” He issues the warning, but like everybody keeps telling me, I’m stupid, so I go on, because I think I just found my way through this mess.
“I know it’s really the Italians, specifically Lucian Venuti, and I know because he has help from someone, someone very powerful.
I know, because the second I told my boss I had proof it wasn’t you, I got fired and blackballed.
I lost my job, my credibility, and my reputation, so who gives a flying fuck if I’m biting off more than I can chew? ”
“She does,” he snaps without missing a beat, and points at Maggie.
“And she’s the only reason I’m telling you. You protect her. Forever. I’m planning to run the fuck away the second this is over, but if you promise me you’ll protect her, I’ll help you make sure not a single Italian can ever hurt you or your family again.”
“If you want my protection then you’re going to have to give me more than someone powerful.” He tries mimicking my tone, but I don’t sound so . . . pathetic, do I? “I want a name.”
“And I’m going to get you one.”