Chapter 16 #2
“I’m pretty good at getting into places no one else can.
I was given a job to take something from a well-known marksman.
Gun for hire. Assassin. Whatever you want to call him, he is the best of the best. I was terrified but I was also hungry.
Lonely. Depressed and lost. I snuck in, got what I was paid to get, and I made it to the back door before he woke up.
I sprinted to the gate but my leg had only been put back together for a few months at that point and I wasn't quick anymore. Diarmuid pointed a gun at me and told me to give up my employer or he’d shoot.
I turned and stared him in the eye. I thought maybe seeing how young I was would be enough to stop him but he stared at me with steady, cold eyes.
So I turned and ran, and he shot me. I had to run for two miles with a fresh bullet wound, then I got sewn back together with no pain relief by some nurse turned crackhead. It got infected and I nearly died.”
I was being nice and telling him two truths at once; a bad memory and why his uncle had shot me.
I knew he’d ask me at some point so why not just tell him?
Harley nods and rubs at his chin, a fine dusting of stubble growing where he hasn't bothered to shave. I can’t stop looking at it.
It’s a little darker than the golden waves on his head.
I want to rub my cheek on it or even feel the burn of him rubbing his cheek on me.
God, I need to get my thoughts out of the gutter.
“Who forced the tattoo on you?”
He doesn’t flinch away or get pissed this time, he’s expecting me to dig for more information.
He runs a finger over the rim of his shot glass like he’s going to pass.
I’m surprised when he speaks. “My uncle. My da was the oldest in the family. He had nine siblings, four full blood and the rest were from my grandfather’s second marriage.
Domhnall was the next boy born and he’s set to take over now that I’m out.
” He doesn’t look up at me, his eyes just stay on the amber liquid in the glass.
“There was a threat made against me and Ma. My grandfather didn’t give a shit.
He said casualties were the price they paid for being in the business they were in and Da should just deal with it.
Da didn’t trust his gut and Ma was taken.
She was left outside my grandfather’s house a week later but the damage was done.
She now lives in an institution for the mentally ill, albeit heavily sedated and barely able to function, so less living, more locked somewhere that will keep her safe, but still…
It broke Da and he took off leaving me with my grandfather.
When he came back to get me, he told the family he was out.
They killed him. Then, they held me down and tattooed me.
The family creed is actually ‘ Blood, Honor, Faith ’.
They said that Da had put Ma before his blood, which he did.
It’s not something he was ashamed of, but they tattooed me to try and shame me for what he did. ”
He takes another swig from his beer, draining almost half the bottle in one.
“I found out later that my grandfather was the one who took Ma. My uncles all helped… torture her. They kept saying Da put his honor, his pride, before his blood. They’re fucking crazy.
The tattoo was terrible, looked awful because I was only nine when they did it, and I was screaming and trying to get them to stop.
When I grew it got even worse, stretched and faded out.
Ash and Blaise dragged me to a parlor last year and we had it redone.
None of us have good families, blood doesn’t mean shit, but we chose the family we have now.
So, when I got mine they both got our new creed tattooed too.
Avery keeps saying she’s going to get it done as well, but she’s an absolute fucking sissy about needles so I’m not holding my breath.
I don’t need her to get it anyway, I know she’s one of us. ”
I let his words soak in but one thing is clear to me.
Liam and Domhnall O’Cronin are going to die.
Fuck it, I’m going to wipe every last O’Cronin out of the state, barring Harley and maybe Diarmuid.
My fingers actually tremble from the rage I’m trying to contain. I’m glad he’s still staring at the floor because my face is all Wolf right now. Fucking Liam O’Cronin! I’m going to ruin that miserable old bastard and then I’m going to kill him. Or help Harley do it. I’m cool either way.
“How did you go from being shot by Diarmuid to being friends? He hugged you like… like he had a right to. I’d swear that you slept with him if he hadn’t made that stupid comment about your tits.”
Why is he so damned fixated on my sex life?
Or lack thereof, not that he knows that.
“Our mutual acquaintance put him on the books. We met in friendlier circumstances and he kept asking how I'd gotten through his security. When I finally realized he was impressed, not pissed, I told him. Then he started acting like we were best friends. I haven’t slept with him, and I won’t ever in the future. Even if my tits do fill in.”
Harley scoffs and opens another beer. “Your tits don’t need to fill in, they’re fine. Da used to go on and on about how good of a shot Diarmuid was. I wanted to learn from him. I wanted to be just like him.”
I try to ignore him calling my tits ‘fine’ because I don’t know if he’s insulting or reassuring me.
I feel like he opened the door to talking about relationships and romantic interests, so I ask the question that’s been keeping me up for longer than I care to think about, and try valiantly not to blush or look too interested in the answer.
“Who are you dating? She seems to be causing waves in your tight-knit family.”
“I’m not dating anyone. Who told you that?” The warmth has leached out of his voice and his eyes are guarded again. Great. Why is he allowed to ask if I’m sleeping with his uncle but I can’t ask this without a mood swing?
“Blaise. Avery asked about his black eye and he said he’d been making a move on your girl. No, wait, he said you accused him of moving in on your girl.”
He blows out a breath and looks up at the ceiling. I’m getting a fair bit of that out of these guys lately and I don’t know what the hell it means. I need to ask Avery.
“I gave him the black eye in the ring. He was mouthing off and I got pissed. We usually don’t aim for the head but I lost my cool and cracked him.”
I fight the shit-eating grin tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Oh. So, no girl?”
He gives me a sly look. “Not yet.”
Huh. That sounds like there is going to be one soon, as if he’s chasing some girl.
That’s probably who he’s been texting throughout the day.
Fuck. “Let me know. I’m running background checks on everyone we get involved with from now on.
I do not want another Annabelle or Rory getting close ever again. ”
He nods and puts the rim of the beer bottle up to his lips.
I try so hard not to pay attention but he’s like a magnet, drawing me in until I’m stuck drooling over him.
I watch his throat work and I have to squeeze my thighs together at the sensations running through me.
Right, mind out of the gutter, Lips. Mind out of the gutter.
He’s so unbelievably hot, it’s cruel to sit so close to him.
“I'm fairly observant, I think sometimes you underestimate that,” he says, his voice warm and dripping like honey, as he pours another shot. I have to clear my throat twice to find my voice.
“Oh yeah?”
“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”
Excuse me?
What the fuuuuuuuuuuck?
Is it that obvious? Was our little make out session that bad?
Oh my fucking God, I’m a fumbling idiotic virgin and he spotted it.
No wonder he wanted to stop. When I stare at him, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed, he fixes his stunning blue-eyed gaze on mine.
“Yep. I'm observant enough to realize that Joey had to be your first kiss. You told me and Blaise at breakfast on the first day back after the winter break, you said you held a knife to his dick. Now you just told me I was your first real kiss and that the other one didn’t count. So, unless you’re out fucking guys like the chick in Pretty Woman, then I’d guess you’ve never had sex before. ”
“How have you seen Pretty Woman ?” I’m grasping at straws, trying to buy my brain some time to recalibrate.
He rolls his eyes at me. “When Aves sulks over guys she watches three movies; Pretty Woman, Dirty Dancing, and Ghost . I dunno, it has something to do with Aunt Alice. Stop avoiding the question. Answer it or take the shot.”
I still hesitate. It’s not like I’m ashamed about it, other than my lack of skills.
I’m actually proud, considering where I grew up and the six years I spent in foster care.
It’s just that everyone at this school seems to bed-hop and while I don’t want to do that, I also don’t want news of my untouched status getting out and the damned bet spinning out of control.
Harley misreads my indecision and curses viciously. “If Joey touched you, I'm driving to his place tonight and I'm setting it on fire. I will burn that fuck alive.”
A shiver runs down my spine and pools between my thighs. Not for the first time, I think about how damaged I must be to find him irresistible when he talks so casually about enacting blood-soaked revenge for me.
“No, it’s… he didn’t. He tried, but I find that a sharp knife nestled against a guy’s dick is usually a good deterrent. I’m more worried about the bet. How much bigger do you think the payout will be if they find out I’m a virgin?”
Harley groans and rubs his eyes. “I forgot about that stupid fucking bet. So you’ve spent months being accosted by horny guys trying to talk you into a quick fuck for money, and every single one of them assumed you were up for it because you’re a Mounty girl.”
I’m tempted to point out how often he and his friends called me a slut and accused me of using sex to get my way, but he’s actually being really sweet so I let it go. When his hands lower he looks a little embarrassed so I think he realizes it all on his own.
We fall back into a comfortable silence, only the sounds of us drinking to be heard. My phone pings and I ignore it. I don't want the Jackal sullying this moment.
“You should get that. Avery is freaked out that you haven't texted her back.”
Crap.
I completely forgot to check in with her this morning and, yep, missed my usual lunchtime text, as well.
I WILL DRIVE BACK THERE IF YOU DON’T ANSWER ME SOON, ECLIPSE ANDERSON. Also, what is your middle name? I need to know it because apparently you pull the kind of shit that requires a full name sort of reaction.
Well, shit.
I scroll back to find out what I’m supposed to be answering. Fifteen from Avery on our private chat. Twenty-two in our group message. Fuck.
Are you sleeping in? You stayed up too late with your books again, didn’t you?
Senior still isn’t home. This is the longest I’ve been able to relax at the manor since my mom died.
I’m assuming you’re sleeping still. I refuse to believe you’ve been murdered. Or that you’re ignoring me.
Look, I know you love your textbooks more than you love me but please take a three minute break and text me.
Has Harley joined you for brunch?
Lips, I’m really starting to get worried that you’ve been murdered.
Okay, Harley just texted to say you really are still in bed. I told him to make French toast.
Ash said Senior not being here is your doing? Something about clandestine meetings on park benches? I’m assuming he’s being dramatic but feel free to call me with an explanation… it’ll also be nice to know you’re alive.
I texted Harley. How is it he can text me back while eating but you can’t? I’m feeling very unloved.
Are you pissed at me or something?
So help me, Mounty, I will set Ash on you.
That’s a lie. I wouldn’t do that to you. Please text me.
I hit call and wince at the ice she breathes down the phone at me.
“Is this the reanimated corpse of Eclipse unknown-middle-name Anderson?”
The wince turns into a full-blown cringe, and Harley takes one look at me and roars with laughter.
What an asshole.