Chapter Twenty-Two #2
We’re looking at each other, so I don’t realize what’s happening until it’s too late.
The bodyguard lunges for me, shoving me backward until I hit the wall.
Anger flares on Rory’s face as he turns to come for us.
Bruce swipes something off his nightstand, swings his arm, and the second the knife slices against Rory’s arm, I realize what it is. How did we miss that?
The bodyguard comes at me again, but I’m ready for it, whipping my arm through the air and hitting him in the temple with my gun, like I did to Rory the first night we saw each other. He drops immediately and I hit him again to make sure of it.
Rory’s gotten the upper hand too, and he’s dragging Bruce away.
“What the fuck are you doing?” My heart is in my throat, head pounding, worry strangling me.
“Make sure he’s not a problem.” He points to the bodyguard boyfriend, but he’s out. I must have hit in the right place, the slow rise and fall of his bare chest telling me I didn’t kill him.
Rory disappears into another room, and I follow.
He throws Bruce into the bathtub, holding him down and turning on the water.
It pours over Bruce’s face as he fights Rory, trying to get free, choking on the water.
Rory pulls his head out for a second. “I thought we were friends, Bruce. I thought I could trust you. Why did you go and do that?” He shoves Bruce under the water again, waterboarding the guy, who chokes and thrashes.
“Rory, don’t. I don’t want you to do this for me,” I tell him again. I’m not supposed to get him in trouble, not supposed to get him hurt. He’s got blood on his hand, and I know it’s running down his arm from his cut. How bad is it?
Rory ignores me, pulls a flopping Bruce out of the water again, letting him get a few gasping breaths in before he shoves him back under the faucet.
Ollie was right. I should have listened to him. I fucked this up.
I rush over, touch him, try to pull him back into the moment, try to ground him the way I’ve heard that Cillian does. “Please don’t. I can’t stand the thought of you doing this for me, risking yourself for me. I’m not worth it.”
He practically growls, something in my words making him angry. But I don’t back away. I wrap my arms around him, hold him, whisper to him. “Ror, please…come on, Cherry. Don’t kill him. We need to figure this out. I need to make sure you’re okay, please, baby.”
He freezes, looks at me. It’s so fucking strange seeing him right now, his eyes colder, darker, almost like he’s a different person, like he’s not in this room with me, not inside himself. Not the Rory I know.
“Please,” I say again. His hold on Bruce loosens, and a second later he lets him go completely. I turn the water off, Bruce gasping and coughing in the tub.
Rory falls to the closed toilet seat, doesn’t speak, doesn’t move anymore…just sits.
What the fuck do I do? Maybe I should have let him kill Bruce. Maybe I should kill them both myself. I don’t want to do the wrong thing. If it were just me, I wouldn’t care, but I dragged him into this.
“Rory…Cherry…talk to me.”
He turns away, like he can’t bring himself to look at me. My heart feels like it’s being ripped apart. I wasn’t good enough, and took Rory down with me.
I shove the gun beneath Bruce’s chin. “Don’t fucking move,” I order, then go to the door, look and see the guy is still there, knocked out.
Bruce is still trying to breathe. Rory still isn’t talking. I do the only thing I can think of—call Ollie.
“Hello?” he says, voice husky from sleep.
“We need Cillian…Rory needs Cillian. I fucked up. Jesus, I fucked up. We’re in a mess and we need him.”
“Hold on.” Ollie sounds completely awake now. I hear some rustling around and then Cillian is on the phone.
“We’re on our way, but if he’s fucking hurt, you’re dead.” More rustling sound, then Ollie comes back.
“How do they know where we are?” I ask.
“Location on Rory’s phone. Is he okay?”
“I’m fine, Bunny,” Rory says, and I hear Ollie physically relax, but I must admit, I’m hurt he spoke to Ollie but not me.
“I’m gonna go,” I tell Ollie.
“Okay, Cillian is…”
“I’ll be fine,” I tell him, then end the call. Cillian is pissed. Cillian is probably going to kill me, but I don’t fucking care.
I toss the phone onto the counter, grab Bruce, and hit him in the head with my gun. He slumps into the bathtub, not moving, as I kneel in front of Rory.
“Baby…let me check out your arm real quick.”
His head whips in my direction, pupils flared, breaths coming out harsh and rough. Did I say something to make him angry?
“Please.”
Rory nods. I set my gun down, then pull his good arm out of his hoodie.
When I go to the second, he winces but doesn’t fight me as I get that arm free.
I tug the hoodie over his head and drop it to the floor.
The short sleeve of his white shirt is stained red, blood running down his arm.
My heart falls to my gut, flopping around like a dying fish, but I ignore it.
I rummage under the sink and find a bottle of rubbing alcohol.
I don’t trust anything in this house, so I take off my hoodie, then my tee, wetting it in the sink and trying to clean his wound.
He lets me do what I want, washing it, then cleaning it with the alcohol.
It’s not bad, thank God, just a slash, nothing too deep.
A million words sit on the tip of my tongue.
I’m sorry. This is my fault. You’re mine, and I should have taken care of you…
don’t change your mind…don’t stop wanting me, but I can’t make myself set any of them free.
So I just clean him, try to take care of him, find a first-aid kit and begin to cover his injury, when I hear the guys arrive.
Cillian makes his way into the bathroom first. I’m not surprised when he grabs me, rips me away from Rory, shoving me against the wall, his hand wrapped around my throat.
“Put him the fuck down, Cil,” Tiernan says, but he doesn’t listen.
“I’m going to fucking kill you. What the hell did you let happen to him?”
My head is throbbing, throat closing up as I gasp for breath.
“I knew you didn’t fucking deserve him.” He grabs his gun, shoves it beneath my chin, pressing in.
I want to feel scared, wait for something to hit me other than just disappointment at myself, but it doesn’t come.
“Let him go.” Rory’s voice is soft…rough…disconnected.
“Fuck that,” Cillian replies.
“Let. Him. Go, Cillian.” Then, “Please.”
The room is deathly silent—even I’ve somehow stopped fighting for breath—and then…then Cillian releases me, pushes away from me. I gasp, trying to pull air into my lungs as he kneels in front of Rory.
I don’t know how to explain it, what I feel in this moment.
It’s not jealousy, though a part of me wants to be where Cillian is right now, wants Rory to need me that way.
But as they press their foreheads together, speaking to each other in a way only the two of them understand, all I can think is how fucking beautiful they are. How beautiful what they have is.
“Talk,” Tiernan says, and even though it’s tough, even though my throat hurts, I find a way to do as he says, telling him everything—who Bruce is, the way he’s treated us, and everything that happened tonight.
I don’t hold any of it back, despite some of it making me feel like a failure.
“Next time, call me or Cillian.” He walks around me, points his gun at Bruce, and pulls the trigger, then nods at Dean, who walks into the bedroom, and a second later, there’s another shot.
Tiernan gets on the phone and calls someone, saying, “I need a cleanup.” He talks on the phone for a few more minutes, but I watch Cillian as he tries to get Rory’s hoodie back on.
When I see him fumble with it, I can’t stop myself from stepping forward, grabbing the sleeve.
Cillian cocks his head at me, taking me in, then giving his attention to Rory as we work together to get the hoodie back on him.
I’m surprised Rory is letting us take care of him this way, and also that Cillian isn’t shoving me away to do it himself.
When our fingers brush, there’s a strange spark that almost makes me pull away, but I don’t…
I fucking don’t, partly because I don’t want to, because I don’t get it and it makes me curious, and partly because I don’t want him touching Rory without me.
I don’t want to take away what the two of them share, the bond they have, but I’m not ready to walk away from Rory yet either.
I want Cillian to know Rory is mine too.