CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Raina
M y cell phone rings, waking me up from a deep sleep, so deep I didn’t even dream. I’m one level away from a coma or death. It stops but rings again.
The other end of the bed is empty, but with a dented pillow and pushed-back covers. Not a perfectly made-up unused side of my bed that gathers dust.
I’m not home.
Oh God.
Last night comes flooding back to me. And a shift sparks a twinge between my legs.
Sex.
And murder.
Not in that order.
I murdered one of Noel’s men.
They will come after me.
My cell rings again, and I cringe, looking at the number, expecting it to be Valdrin. I went to sleep, ignoring his sixtieth missed call and dozens of angry texts.
I answer quickly, “Ruby? Are you okay?”
“You, you never came back.” She sounds like a zombie. “I put your clothes away.”
“What’s wrong?”
“When are you coming home?” she whines, flipping the alarm bells in my head.
Never whispers in my brain. But a complete surrender to Connor and his brothers is not an option for me. I will fight to keep my life and that apartment with all the stuff and memories I won’t abandon.
Plus, I have a friend who needs me. And Valdrin already set his eyes on her.
Christ.. .
I know Connor will be part of my immediate future. But it can’t be all or nothing. I have to maintain my own identity and friends. Even if it’s one friend.
“I’ll be home soon. This afternoon, if I can. You can stay in my apartment. Eat whatever you want. Drink whatever you want.”
“I, I have to tell you something,” she whispers.
“Go ahead, honey.”
“No,” she groans. “Not on the phone.”
I exhale and slam my head back into the pillow. “I promise. I’ll be home soon. And Ruby, keep the door locked, all three bolts. If Valdrin comes by, don’t let him in. I can’t say why right now.”
“Oh. Okay.”
I hang up, feeling a weight on my chest. Ruby is in trouble, and I’m not there for her.
Needing coffee and smelling the lingering aroma out in the hall, I push out of bed and amble toward where I remember the kitchen was.
My foggy head clears up when arguing brogues compete for the oxygen. All Irish accents in degrees of growliness are talking about me.
Like I’m on a stakeout, I close my eyes and put voices to the faces.
Connor.
Rhys, I think.
And then another man, whose voice is smooth as honey.
Someone named Hendrix was killed, and based on Connor’s angry voice, this guy was fairly high up. Emotion ripples through me, raw and sharp. One of Noel’s top men was abducted by the Irish. It can’t be a coincidence that within hours, some high-level Quinlan boss is gunned down .
Or, by how they’re talking, mutilated.
I peek around the corner and see Connor, who’s wearing jeans hanging low off his hips and nothing else. He makes eye contact with me, sending another pair of identical blues my way.
I stop short, taking in a man who’s as breathtaking as I’ve ever seen in an exquisite charcoal three-piece suit.
“Raina, baby, it’s okay. This is my brother Griffin.” Connor waves me over. He shoulder-bumps the don and stands in front of me. “Griffin, this woman saved my life last night. Ask Rhys.”
Only, Rhys was passed out.
“Nice to meet you, Raina,” Griffin says, frowning at how his brother is protecting me. “I have meetings with the mayor all day. We’ll talk more about this at dinner Sunday night.”
“About this? In front of Ma?” Connor glances over his shoulder. “We eat Sunday dinner every week with our mother. We’ll have to get you something suitable to wear. Your assassin garb isn’t appropriate.”
“I’m going to meet your mother?” I ask with shock in my voice.
“Connor, I don’t think—” Griffin objects.
“She’s with me .” Connor shuts that down. “Okay? That means she comes to Sunday dinner.”
Griffin shoves big hands into his pockets. “Okay, but be prepared to answer questions. Not just Ma. The wives.”
He says wives like they’re she-wolves. Oh God, what the hell did I get myself into?
“Aye,” Connor agrees. “See you Sunday night.”
Griffin leaves, giving me another once-over. I don’t belong here. Only, I’m not sure what choices I have.
A look passes between Connor and Rhys. I just rolled out of the boss’s bed. Smiling, Rhys follows the don out the front door .
“Coffee?” Connor asks, strolling back into his kitchen like everything is completely normal.
“Uh, okay.” I creep up toward the kitchen island and take a seat.
My ass hitting a cool metal stool reminds me I’m in just a T-shirt. Griffin saw my bare legs and that I had come from the bedroom.
God, this is so embarrassing. To let myself be used like this. But is Connor using me? For what purpose?
He pushes a mug at me. “Here.”
I look down and smile at the color, the shade of saddle brown. When I fist the steaming mug for a sip, it’s also the perfect sweetness. “How did you know?”
His tilted head is the answer, but he voices it anyway. “I got you all figured out. You’re mine. Mine to protect from a pack of Albanian animals. Making you the perfect cup of coffee is the easy part.”
“It is perfect.” I let the warmth calm me. “And thank you for protecting me. Don’t you have someone else to do that?”
“No. I don’t trust anyone with your safety right now.”
“Okay. But for how long?”
“Forever.”
I give him an incredulous look through my lashes. “You don’t mean that.”
“The hell I don’t.” He leans his elbows on the marble countertop.
I gently place my mug down, then do something dangerous and risky.
Coffee forgotten, stomach twisting, I hop off the stool. My feet hit the warm, wooden-plank floor, and I run.
I have only two immediate choices. The dank corridor of hissing steam pipes that lead to Connor’s torture chamber, or the front door and into the open courtyard with guards who can shoot me in the head. I take my chances outside.
I’ll scream if I have to. As if the cops would question a mob boss.
Yanking open the door, I celebrate with a tiny breath of relief that the immediate courtyard isn’t swarming with guards at the moment.
I sprint barefoot across the uneven and cracked paving stones.
My breath is ragged, my heart hammering in my throat.
The city air stings my skin, the early chill of the approaching fall biting at my exposed legs.
I don’t have a plan. I just know I need out.
With every slap of my soleless shoes against the cold, wet pavement, this is just one of many mistakes I’ve made in the last twenty-four hours.
I shouldn’t have woken up in Connor’s bed or spent the night in his arms. Lying to myself that I belong there.
I shouldn’t have let myself want this. Him. To stay with him. Be his.
I stop, seeing Rhys and the man I’m guessing is his brother, the enforcer, standing at the curb. Before I can yell, strong arms snag my waist. “Stop. Let me go!”
But my body is lifted clean off the ground like I weigh a feather.
“Oh no, you don’t, Venom.” Connor puts me in a death grip, but it’s oddly gentle.
If I were some enemy who’d gotten loose, I suspect I’d have been shot or dragged back by the hair. Maybe both.
Still, I thrash my arms, kick my legs, and claw at his grip. My tantrum barely breaks his stride. He hauls me up over his shoulder like he’s a fireman saving me from the flames.
“Put me down, you stubborn maniac.”
“Not a fucking chance.” His voice is raw and furious, the first real indication he’s mad at me.
I pound my fists against his back, but he doesn’t so much as flinch. “You can’t just keep me like this. ”
“Watch me, Venom.” He stomps back to his apartment, one powerful arm locked over my thighs.
That door gets bigger with every step, and the once charming, hidden lair now looks like a prison.
“Please.” I was stupid to run. But I’m also terrified to stay.
“I’d rather hear you beg for something else.” He kicks open his door.
When he slams it shut, the outside world disappears before my eyes.
With his body coiled in tension, he strides straight to the bedroom. He dumps me onto the bed, and I barely have time to scramble up before he climbs on top of me.
One knee sinks into the mattress near my ribs, the other wedged between my thighs as he cages me in with his arms. His face hovers just inches from mine. His breath is fast and heavy.
Those bright blue eyes are wild and stormy. They demand answers I don’t have the breath to give.
His brothers may laugh off his unhinged ways and his sharp humor, but the man staring down at me right now is as serious as nuclear war.
“How could you just run off?” His grip on me tightens. “After everything I told you. After the promises I made. After the night we had.”
And I don’t think he means the sex. How I killed for him. How I saved him. How I chose him. But I feel like I’ve lost myself in the process.
It all catches up to me: what I did, the stand I took, and what that choice to save Connor means. My throat tightens, and suddenly everything comes crashing down on me.
I feel my lungs seize as every breath shallows out. I can’t fucking breathe.