Chapter 17
Rory
I took Kat out as far as the patio and then carried her the rest of the way down the stone steps to the awaiting golf cart. From there we drove between the barn and the pond to the far end of it.
Declan thought it was a great idea to get her out practicing some shots, in hopes that I could gain some information about the night we completed the hit on Knox, her grandfather.
“Steady now,” I instructed, as I held her still.
My hand guided hers as she aimed the pistol at the round straw bale set 20 feet away. The weight of the gun seemed to rest naturally in her palm— she made it look easy.
“Like this?” her voice was a mixture of doubt and anxiety.
“Exactly like that.” I nodded, “I’m going to let you go now.” Stepping back, though my gaze never left her stance. “Now, squeeze the trigger gently. Don’t jerk it.”
The shot fractured the silence around the estate, echoing off the distant trees. She nailed the center of the target, and I raised an eyebrow, impressed despite myself.
“Good shot,” I acknowledge grudgingly. “Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”
A smirk played on her lips as she lowered the weapon. “I’m sure.”
“Right.” I had serious doubts that she had never shot a gun before. But I let it slide. “So, your granddad Knox...” I ventured casually, reloading the pistol to hand it back to her. “Were you and him close?”
She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly, acknowledging the shift in conversation. “Close enough, I suppose,” she said, taking the gun back. “He taught me a few things.”
I reached out, adjusting her grip on the gun and my fingers trailed along her soft skin. I cursed under my breath. My mind immediately flew to last night when she laid in my arms. “Keep your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to shoot,” I barked.
She nodded, with a quick jerk of her chin. “And when I’m ready?”
“Then you aim true and pull without hesitation.” My hand lingered on hers a moment longer than necessary. “Second guesses will get you killed out there.”
“I’m not the second-guessing type.” There was a flicker of something in her eyes. As if she was reminding me that last night was a one-time thing… maybe.
I crossed my arms and stepped back. “No, I don’t suppose you are.”
Silence stretched, as she took her aim.
“Your form’s good,” I said, nodding at the target. “Keep that up and you’ll be a regular sharpshooter in no time.”
She scoffed, but I caught the hint of a smile. “Flattery will get you nowhere Hennessy.”
“Who said anything about flattery?” I grinned, easing the tension just a bit. “I’m just stating facts.”
She shook her head, but the smile lingered. And for a moment, standing there in the bright sunlight with the scent of gunpowder sharp in the air, it was almost easy to forget that I had a job to do and find out exactly what she saw that night. Almost.
I noticed she started favoring her leg and said, “That’s it for today. Let’s pack it up.”
She didn’t argue and handed me the pistol, but the questions I couldn’t bring myself to ask burned in my throat. Because I knew Declan would be questioning me as soon as I walked in the house.
“You were close with your grandfather, right?” I kept my tone casual, like I was asking about the weather.
She squinted at me. “You already asked me that.”
“Right,” I nodded. “Must’ve been tough, losing him like that.”
Her shoulders tensed, just for a second, before she shrugged. “Like I said. We had our moments, but he was a hard man to love.”
There was a story there, but damned if I knew what to say without looking guilty as shit. Piss on it, I’d just come out and ask.
“Were you at the house that night?” I kept my eyes on the gun, my hands steady as I cleaned the barrel. “You see anything? Hear anything?”
“I saw enough.” Her voice was flat, giving nothing away. But there was a flicker of something in her eyes, something that looked a whole lot like guilt. “Enough to know that my grandfather had more enemies than friends in the end.”
Silence stretched between us until she asked, “You ever think about getting out? Leave the family behind, start over somewhere new?”
I laughed, but there was no humor in it. “And go where? Do what?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, get a respectable job maybe? Like, how did you get involved with Declan?” she inquired as she sat on the seat of the golf cart.
I laid the pistol in its case and snapped it shut. “This life, this family... that's all I know. Declan is like a brother to me. We met in high school. He ahh… helped me with someone who was beating the shit out of me.”
She shielded her eyes from the sun and looked up at me. “Someone was bullying you in high school. Why didn’t the school do anything about it?”
I shook my head. “Not high school. It was my mother’s boyfriend at the time. He helped me get rid of him.”
“Oh! You mean… you two killed him?”
I handed her the pistol case and got in the driver’s seat. “No. The cement that encased his feet and the water killed him.”
I drove back to the house wondering just how in the hell she was able to twist the conversation on me.
I parked the golf cart by the patio, got out, then went around and scooped her up into my arms. “I’ll come back for your crutches. Do you want to lay out on the sofa and watch some tv?” I asked, not wanting to go anywhere near her bedroom.
“As long as no one minds,” she murmured, her warm breath fanning my neck.
I didn’t care if they minded or not, I had to get her out of my arms before my dick exploded inside my jeans. “Not at all.”
I carried her inside, my heart pounding so hard I was sure she could feel it through my chest. As I gently set her down on the sofa, our eyes locked for a moment. And I tried my damnedest to ignore the fact that her hand still rested on my shoulders.
God, she was beautiful. And infuriating. And completely off-limits.
Jesus, what the fuck was wrong with me? A day ago, I couldn’t stand the thought of being in the same room with her, and now a night between the sheets changed all of that?
Quickly, I took a step back and ran a hand through my hair. “Uh, remote’s on the coffee table. You need anything else?”
“No, I’m good,” she replied softly, her eyes still on me.
I wish I could read her mind, but she had the kind of poker face that didn’t reveal a single emotion crossing her face.
I grabbed the remote off the table and thrust it towards her. “Here, look for something. I’ll be right back with your crutches. Do you need ice for your leg?”
She pushed herself up higher on the sofa and tugged a throw pillow from behind her back. “If it’s not too much trouble,” she replied. Raising her leg, she tried to stuff the pillow underneath it.
“Let me do it,” I offered as I gently lifted her foot and stuffed the pillow under her. “Is that better?” I asked, and I instantly regretted looking at her. Because when I did, I saw tears glistening in her eyes and for some dumb reason I felt a sting in my throat.
I couldn’t get out of there fast enough and turned on my heel. By the time I returned with her crutches and an ice pack, she was sound asleep with the remote still in her hand. I laid the crutches on the coffee table and grabbed a throw blanket from a chair and gently covered her with it. I stood there a second wondering how I could get back that feeling of pure hatred for her, but it wasn’t happening.