Chapter 23
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
Haz
What did one do when they snooped through their maybe-boyfriend’s home and stumbled upon a secret room and inside was another secret room that was filled with weapons that I’m pretty sure not even the military has access to?
Run? Probably the best option, but he knew my address. Not that I could go home anyway. The last time I was there, I almost died. I could go to Rett’s house. Kieran knew about that place too. And should I really involve my only friend in my drama?
I glanced back at the murder locker lit up like some kind of hitman’s paradise. John Wick would be impressed. I couldn’t help but wonder which was more dangerous: the men trying to kill me or the man I ran to for safety.
A man with access to all this would definitely be able to find me wherever I ran off to anyway. Honestly, I didn’t want to run. There were too many questions that needed answers: who, what, where, when, why. And most importantly, how.
Maybe there was a logical explanation for all this.
Doubtful. It was likely just as terrible as it looked. Truth was, even after finding him gone and discovering his violent collection, I wasn’t afraid of Kieran.
Now that I’d decided running was definitely out, I had another decision. Put all this away and pretend I never saw it or confront him.
Honestly, what was the point of pretending not to have seen it?
I was terrible at keeping secrets, even my own.
He’d scowl and call me by my real name, and I’d spill it all like a milk carton with a hole.
I’d never manage to keep quiet until he said something.
Speaking was like his least favorite thing anyway.
I’d confront him. He’d be mad, but that was a permanent condition for him anyway. Besides, that’s what he’d get for leaving me alone in his house.
This was all his fault!
The sound of locks disengaging and a door opening out in the other room made me stiffen. My heart pounded and palms turned slick. Panic and the urge to hide slammed into me like a Mack truck, and I ended up spinning in a small, frantic circles, running but not going anywhere.
The door latched, and I cocked my head to the side, trying hard to listen past my own erratic breathing and pulse. Keys hit the island, and I imagined Kieran stripping off that long black trench coat.
Light footsteps caught my breath. And then they stopped.
Oh my God, he sees the open panel in the hall. Suddenly, enduring his anger seemed like a much bigger deal.
We both stood there, separated by walls and saying nothing at all, waiting to see who would make the first move.
A bolt of fear cracked down my spine, lighting up my nerves like the strike of a match.
I was stupid. Confronting Kieran was stupid.
Just look at me. Injured, half his size, on his home turf.
I’d been the target of murder just one day ago.
Here I was, a sitting duck, trapped in a small space while he stood just feet away, acting completely suspicious.
Screw it. Not worrying about the noise, I lunged into the open hideaway and grabbed one of the biggest guns I could reach. Confrontation was always better with guns.
Not that I’d ever used a gun before.
A hand curled around the partially open panel, and just the sight of his monster digits made my knees weak. The door pushed wide, and he stepped inside, black baseball cap pulled low over his forehead, hiding the only color on his entire body.
He looked lethal. Black heavyweight pants with pockets, zippers, and straps paired with a tight black shirt and a black jacket that had no business clinging to his upper body the way it did.
The part of his face not shaded by that sexy-as-hell hat was concealed by his beard, and the very air around him was tainted with sweat and violence.
How dare this liar look so goddamn tempting.
“Where the hell have you been?” I demanded, holding the gun from the murder locker in front of me.
“Why aren’t you in bed?” he asked, casually crossing his arms over his chest while looking not even the least bit surprised to find me standing there brandishing a massive gun.
I mean, Kieran was stoic, but I was expecting at least a little bit of a reaction.
“Thought you could sneak out without me knowing?” I asked, completely annoyed he didn’t seem even an ounce as affected by me as I was him.
Sighing, Kieran dropped his arms and took a step forward. “Put that down. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
I raised it, aiming directly at him. “Don’t come any closer. I’ll shoot.”
I probably wouldn’t, but he didn’t need to know that.
“The safety is on.” He informed me.
I made a sound and felt around for it. Why didn’t I think of that?
“Other side.” His voice was dry.
Is he making fun of me? I changed direction, found the safety, and switched it off. Triumphant, I re-leveled it at him. “I’ll really do it,” I told him.
“You’re holding it wrong.”
I swore beneath my breath and looked down. Frowning, I said, “No, I’m not.”
He moved so fast I didn’t even see him coming. One minute, he was standing there, and the next, he was wrapped around me from behind, body heat making me realize how cold I was dressed in just a shirt. His shirt.
“Yes, baby doll, you are,” he said, voice low and right beside my ear.
Tingles raced across my scalp and down the back of my neck as his arms lifted, enclosing me in the center of his wide frame.
I resisted the urge to sigh, lean in, and let my head fall back against his shoulder.
His hands wrapped around the gun, gently taking it from my grip.
I made a sound of protest, but his low, gruff voice took control. “If you are going to threaten me, then do it properly,” he reasoned, taking the gun and turning it around.
Oh my God, I was holding it backward?! No wonder he didn’t seem the least bit scared. Holy crap, I could have shot myself!
“Like this,” he instructed in some kind of dangerous rasp that made my toes curl into the floor and the hair on my body stand.
When I didn’t do what he said, his beard nudged the side of my face. “Pay attention, doll.”
I bit back a whine and forced my attention to the gun, lifting my hands to where he instructed.
“That’s better.” He praised. “Don’t aim for the head. You won’t make the shot. Aim lower. Near my torso. Gut shots hurt like hell and bleed like a bitch.”
My arms wobbled, the gun wavering. “W-what?”
“Safety’s off.” He guided my finger. “Trigger is here.”
And then he was gone. His big, warm presence. That gruff rasp in my ear. If my body wasn’t tingling with awareness, I would question if he’d held me at all.
Kieran shifted directly into the path of the gun he’d just taught me to use.
“Y-you w-want me to shoot you?” I asked, starting to tremble.
“I’d rather you didn’t,” he replied, voice calm and even.
“You just showed me h-how.” He literally could have disarmed me or used the gun against me.
“Maybe I deserve it.”
I did not expect this. “You’re not in real estate,” I stated.
“No.”
My chest felt tight. Hurt strangled my heart. “You lied.”
“Yes.”
“Why?” I wanted to know.
He didn’t answer.
My arms sagged, the gun pointing to the floor. “I don’t want to shoot you.”
Barely a second later, the weapon was gone and I was in his arms, plastered tight against his chest with his cheek resting on the top of my head. “Thanks for not running out of here.”
“I pointed a gun at you instead.”
His chuckle ruffled my hair. “I’ll take that over you not being here any day.”
“You’d have just found me anyway,” I said, rubbing my nose against his shirt.
“Always.”
My stomach swooped, and I reminded myself that him being a stalker with guns was not romantic. I’d just found a closet filled with weapons. “I want answers, Kieran,” I said in my best firm voice.
“All right, doll. Let’s go talk.”