Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
Killian
He was no stranger to the inside of an interrogation room. But being locked inside one with no way to contact the woman he loved was proving to be more difficult than he’d expected.
Still, he somehow managed not to react when the door opened for the tenth time that morning and Detective Gibson walked back through.
The same could not be said for Detective Gibson. His expression was that of someone who had just taken a sip of something sour, and it warmed the cockles of Killian’s heart to see.
“You’re free to go.”
Fucking finally. Though he wanted to cheer, he managed to keep his expression neutral as he plucked his suit jacket from the chair he’d draped it over somewhere around hour five of his incarceration. “Thank you, Detective. It’s been a pleasure, as always.”
A hand clamped down on his arm as he made to move past Gibson. “Your fake wife won’t always be there to protect you. Someday, she’s going to see you for what you really are. And when that day comes, I’m going to take great pleasure in being the one who turns the key on your cage.”
Some dark, sneaky part of him thought Gibson might just be right.
But he sure as fuck wasn’t going to share those insidious thoughts with a cop of all people, so he simply smiled a bland smile designed to irritate the fuck out of men like Detective Gibson.
“You’re going to have to fight her uncles for that honor, Detective. ”
He could have easily broken Gibson’s hold on him, but fighting the man would only give him the satisfaction of slapping him with a charge of assaulting an officer.
A bullshit charge Killian’s lawyers would unravel in a matter of hours, but those were more hours he’d have to spend away from his wife.
So he waited, his gaze locked with the burning hatred in Gibson’s dark eyes, and eventually the other man let him go.
A uniformed officer led him through the familiar process of retrieving his personal belongings and making his way back out to the lobby.
Reagan was already there, along with Brody, and aggravation pricked at the back of his skull at the thought of them being kept in some dinky little interrogation room for hours on end.
But then his gaze fell on Aria, looking crisp and clean in a curve-hugging dress of deep green that highlighted the soft swell of her stomach, and everything else fell away.
“Killian.” His name was half prayer, half sob, and then she was in his arms, the warm, comforting weight of her wrapped around him as her body trembled against his.
“Shh, princess. It’s okay. Everyone is safe.” He dropped his voice for only her to hear. “Your plan worked beautifully. My brilliant wife.”
When she pulled back, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright with pleasure as she grinned up at him. “Brilliant, huh?”
“A certified criminal mastermind.”
Her expression turned fierce, and he braced himself for a blistering lecture on why she wasn’t a criminal. “I, for one, don’t consider it criminal to protect yourself or the ones you love against a corrupt system.”
“Hear, hear,” Brody cheered under his breath, while Reagan winked approvingly.
Sliding an arm around Aria’s waist, he steered her toward the front door.
As proud as he was of her—and he was indeed incredibly fucking proud—he was a bit worried if he kept her there another second she might get the other ‘inmates’ to riot.
And while said riot would no doubt be highly amusing to observe, he wasn’t going to put her or their child in harm’s way.
“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m starving. The food here is dismal.”
“Agreed,” Reagan said with a groan. “A hot shower and a hot meal are definitely in order.”
Sean was waiting for them at the curb, a wide grin stretched across his face. “Took you long enough!” he called.
Killian frowned down at the woman tucked up against him. “That’s the last time I let you two spend any time alone together. He was never this cheeky before.”
Mischief sparkled in his wife’s pale eyes. “What can I say? It’s my sacred duty to share my knowledge with the youth.”
He was leaning down to whisper in her ear about the state of her ass once he got her home, when a glint of metal caught his eye. Terror gripped him as his instincts took over, shoving Aria to the ground and throwing his body over hers.
“Get down!” he screamed at Reagan and Brody, a moment before the world erupted around them.
Time itself seemed to slow as gunfire roared, the sounds muffled by the thundering of his own blood in his ears. Closing his eyes, he pressed himself against his woman.
And prayed.
Take me. Take me if you have to, but let Aria and the baby live. Please, God, don’t take them from me.
“Killian!”
Brody. Thank god. Forcing his eyes open, Killian took stock of their surroundings. The gunfire had ceased, and as far as he could tell, he hadn’t been hit.
Sitting up, he pulled Aria up with him, running his hands over her body. “Are you hurt? Did they get you?”
“No. No, I’m okay.” Face pale, she laid a trembling hand on her stomach. “I–I hit the ground pretty hard, though.”
“Fuck. I’ll call Naomi, have her meet us at the house.”
“Okay. I…” Her frantic gaze shifted, locked on something behind him, and somehow her face paled even further. “Oh, god. Oh, god, no.”
Before he could stop her, she was on her feet, running. And when he turned to call for her, to tell her to stop, his eyes found what had put that look on her face.
As if in a trance, he rose, every step feeling as though he was walking through water as he walked down the stone steps to the bloodied body waiting for him beside the car.
Aria was already there, cradling Sean’s head in her lap, stroking his hair as he dragged in a rattling breath. His lips moved, and sound escaped, but nothing that could be recognized as words could be heard.
“Shhh,” Aria whispered, brushing his hair from his blood-soaked face. “It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.”
But when she lifted her head, Killian saw the lie in her eyes.
Dropping to his knees, he took his cousin’s hand in his. “Save your strength, son,” he said, praying his voice sounded far stronger than he felt.
“Aw, fuck.” Reagan’s quiet voice reached his ears a moment before she knelt beside him.
He reached for her, then did a double-take when he found her hand slicked with blood. “You’re hurt.”
“Through and through. I’ll get Naomi to patch me up and I’ll be fine.”
Too numb to argue, he simply nodded. Hand in hand, they ignored the chaos around them as they sat vigil with their cousin. A boy with his entire life ahead of him, the world at his fingertips.
And they watched as the light of that bright, promising life left his eyes.
Aria
She’d never known it was possible to feel so numb and so coldly furious at the same time.
Part of the cold, she knew, was the lack of her husband beside her.
Brody had offered to go in his stead to notify Sean’s mother of what had happened, but Killian had refused.
And as much as she’d wanted him with her, just in case the worst happened, she knew it was killing him to have to choose between duty and love.
So she’d sent him off to do his duty, no matter how deeply she ached at the loss of him. Back at home with his sister and cousin, she sat perched on a table exactly like the ones in Dr. Winters’s exam rooms. Reagan was seated on the one opposite her, her gaze a million miles away.
Neither of them even flinched when the door flew open and Dr. Winters burst through, her expression set in grim lines. But Aria caught a glimpse of fear when she took in Reagan’s bloodied clothes.
“Relax, Doc.” Her sister-in-law’s words were hoarse but hollow. “Only some of it is mine.”
“Well, that’s good. I’d hate to have to kick your ass for not going to the hospital.”
The doctor’s dry response reignited some of the light in Reagan’s dark eyes as they zeroed in on the pretty brunette. “I’d like to see you try.”
Snapping on a pair of latex gloves, Naomi smirked. “I’ve taken down bigger men than you and turned them into crying little babies on my table.”
Reagan’s lips twitched. “Babygirl, one word from me and you’d be the one begging for mercy.”
Amusement somehow blossomed in Aria’s chest as red flooded Naomi’s cheeks. It seemed… wrong to be laughing in the face of what had happened.
But maybe it wasn’t. Maybe the world needed laughter in dark moments like this, a way to remember that it wouldn’t always be death and destruction and soul-crushing loss.
Beside her, Brody chuckled. “Killian’s going to be pissed about losing the bet. He had odds on Reagan taking much longer to get her head out of her ass.”
Indeed, even as Naomi stitched up the sickening hole in her shoulder, Reagan watched her with an interest Aria hadn’t seen in her eyes before.
Good. The world needed more love.
“I’m going to refer you to a friend of mine who’s a physical therapist,” Naomi said as she finished bandaging the wound.
Despite the banter and the fact that her cheeks were still flushed, she was all business now.
“You will call them and you will go to all your appointments. If you don’t, I’ll know, and I’ll tattle on you to your brother. ”
Unlike the previous threats, that one had Reagan’s eyes narrowing. “Thin ice, Doc.”
The color in Dr. Winters’s cheeks deepened, but to her credit she only lifted her chin, meeting Reagan’s hard gaze head-on. “I take the care of my patients very seriously, Ms. O’Rourke.”
“I can see that.” Reagan tilted her head, ever so slightly, her gaze turning speculative. “I’ll call,” she said after a long, tense silence.
If Naomi was at all unnerved by having all of Reagan’s potent attention focused on her, she did an admirable job of hiding it.
“Good. I’m also emailing you and your brother a list of care instructions for that wound.
I want to see you in a week to check on it, but if you notice anything odd, call me immediately. ”
“Will do.”
Seemingly satisfied with Reagan’s agreement, Naomi turned, her expression shifting into more worried lines. “All right. Your turn, Aria.”