Chapter Ten
Rian
My eyelids are heavy. Every time I try to open them, they fall closed again like there are magnets holding them together.
It takes me a while of trying, of opening and closing…resting and opening again before I’m able to make any leeway.
The first thing I realize is that I have a sling on, and I don’t have an IV in my arm anymore, which makes me wonder how long I’ve been out.
Small flashes of memories, bits and pieces of pictures I don’t fully remember, start flittering through my head—Abbott working on my wound again, being asked to take pills, helped to the bathroom to take a piss…
a warm hand on my forehead, against my cheek, the feel of a wet washcloth against my face… my chest.
I force my eyes open now, trying to focus on the room around me. It looks like it’s early morning. There’s no way I’ve only been asleep since last night, so that leads me to believe at least two days have passed.
My eyes fall on Conan first. He’s asleep in an armchair in the corner of the room, gun on his lap, arms crossed, brows creased even in his sleep.
Where the fuck is Abbott?
My pulse jumps, an unfamiliar moment of panic hitting me, because Conan isn’t the type to have left Abbott alone.
Did he kill him? No. Conan wouldn’t do that without an order from me…
not unless he didn’t have another choice.
Maybe Abbott tried to escape again, and Conan didn’t go easy on him like I did.
“Fuck,” I whisper softly, then feel the bed shift and realize I’m not alone in it.
The second I realize it, I notice the soft breathing beside me, the scent which almost smells like fresh linen mixed with earthy undertones.
I wouldn’t have missed those things on a good day, but my brain is foggy—everything a blur in my head.
I turn to see Abbott sleeping beside me. His hands are cuffed to the slats on the headboard above him, so he’s curled into what looks like an uncomfortable position. He’s wearing a T-shirt and a pair of joggers that I don’t recognize.
His face is slack, his jaw loose, lips soft, the creases around his eyes not as deep, some of them gone completely.
It makes sense that he can relax in his sleep the way he can’t when he’s awake.
He’s on edge, kidnapped, the threat of death constantly hanging over him.
He’s with someone he hates, someone who is all the things he’s not.
Yet, he still took care of me. It was Abbott holding a straw to my lips and helping me drink, Abbott wiping down my sweaty, clammy skin, Abbott helping me to the bathroom, his hand against my face.
It makes no fucking sense to me. Is part of it self-preservation? Yes, it has to be, but I also think that’s just who he is—this man’s hands are gentle, while ours are rough. Healing while I hurt, and that thought makes something feel funny in my chest.
He twists, tries to change positions, but his hands make it difficult, so he just settles against the mattress again, a soft moan falling from his lips—quiet but deep and throaty and…
what the fuck? Why did my cock just twitch?
Why am I lying here thinking again that something about him is so fucking pretty?
I turn away from him, head a mess, even more than it always is, and see Conan, awake and watching me from the other side of the room.
He saw me looking at Abbott, saw me watching him. Conan doesn’t miss anything. He hasn’t liked this from the start, and all this is going to do is make him have more questions.
It takes some work on my part, but I manage to slowly sit up, turning so I’m sitting on the side of the bed.
Conan walks over silently, putting his hand out for me, and I’m still groggy and unsteady enough that I let him help me to my feet.
We need to talk. It’s a silent truth both of us know, and we slip out of the bedroom door that leads to the porch, Conan closing it behind us.
“What time is it?” I ask, voice rough, before leaning against the railing, facing the glass door so I can see Abbott inside. Sometime between the IV and now, in my delirious, pained state when he’d been my caregiver, my brain has stopped thinking of him as the doc, and he’s become Abbott.
“About five,” he replies. “It’s been two nights.
I didn’t want to leave you alone with him until you were up on your feet.
His work is taken care of. He requested and was granted a leave of absence.
Most everyone thinks you’re away dealing with something personal.
” It’s what we want people to think. The last thing we need for them to know is that I got shot or that I’m in hiding over a couple of fucking brothers who are nothing in our world.
“Finan and Flynn know what’s going on—Tiernan too.
He told Cillian. He’s been calling me to check on you. ”
A softness I don’t often feel settles in my heart, that I didn’t ruin things so badly with my son that I could never get him back. That he cares about me, even though for too many years, I did a shit job of showing him how much I love him.
“They’re okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, they’re fine. They’re keeping an eye out, but before I left, I wasn’t able to get any details or proof of the brothers coming after you.
Finan and Flynn are on it now, but they’re coming up empty-handed too.
They’re underground, though. We haven’t been able to find them, so I’m not sure why they would do that unless they know they fucked up and that we’ll now bring the wrath down on them. ”
I nod, head throbbing, but I ignore it. There’s too much to worry about to focus on a headache. “Thank you, Conan. What about him?” I nod toward the man, still sleeping inside.
“Like I said, work is dealt with. Hospital cleanup too. He doesn’t have much of a personal life.
Had a boyfriend, but they broke up. His father lives in Cambridge.
Comes from money pretty far back.” Massachusetts is one of the few states in the US that doesn’t have a governor’s mansion, so they live in their private residences. “They don’t seem to be close.”
I nod, then rub a hand over my face. “Okay. You can head back to Boston today. I’d feel better with you there, keeping an eye on things.
” Conan doesn’t reply, just watches me for a moment, looking at me with those inquisitive eyes of his, like he’s trying to figure something out.
Or like he has something on his mind. “Say it,” I say.
“Something’s different with you and this guy. It worries me. There’s no reason he should be alive right now, Rian, and—”
“He’s taking care of me.”
“We have other people who can do that.”
“Yes, but I need to be out of Boston until we can confirm who tried to kill me. He was there. I need a physician. It’s easier this way.
” It sounds like nothing but thin excuses.
Conan doesn’t believe me, and I wouldn’t either if I were him.
The truth is, I don’t know why in the fuck I don’t just kill him.
My life would be a whole lot easier if I did.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Conan finally says. “Fuck him if that’s what you want. But you keep a clear fucking head, you hear me?”
My good hand immediately tightens, jaw clenched. “I don’t want to fuck him, and you’d be smart to remember who you’re talking to right now.”
“I know exactly who I’m talking to.” Conan doesn’t back down. “You’re the head of this family, and we need you. Everything we worked for falls apart without you, Rian. It should have always been you.”
“No, it shouldn’t have,” I answer. Not after Moira. I’d been a fucking mess.
“Yes, it should have been,” he says again. “You’re my best friend, and I don’t want to do this without you, but even more importantly than that, you have a son who loves you more than you fucking believe. Don’t mess up now that you’re getting him back.”
“I’m not messing up. This is nothing. I don’t even fucking know that guy.”
Conan shrugs. “Maybe you don’t, yet you were at the hospital following him that day for a reason.
You let him live instead of putting a bullet in his head in that parking lot for a reason.
He’s still alive for a reason. Figure out what it is, but be fucking safe about it and keep your damn head in check.
Fuck him if you want. Get that shit out of your system, then you fucking kill him so he doesn’t put the rest of us at risk. If you need me to do it, I—”
“I don’t need you to do it,” I snap. But I don’t waste time trying to deny anything he said. We both know that nothing about this is normal. Lying about it won’t change the truth. “I know he has to die. I have no problem with him dying, and I want to be the one to do it.”
“Good.” Conan nods. “We need you, Rian.”
I nod, even though they would be okay without me. I don’t want to go anywhere. They’re my family.
They’re all I have left.
And I can’t fathom the idea of not being exactly where I am—not as long as it’s where Cillian is.
“I want you to head back to Boston today. I’m feeling more like myself. I think I just needed to rest.”
I can tell he wants to argue, but he doesn’t. “Okay. Call me if you need me. I think the doc is under control, and I’m not sure he has it in him to do anything until he makes sure you’re okay.”
I get that feeling about him too. As badly as he wants to escape, he has that instinct that also won’t let him walk away from someone who needs to be taken care of. But then, I did end up with a split lip that says otherwise.
“Is he wearing the monitor?” I ask.
“Yeah. I sent you the information.”
That’s good. That way, we can both monitor him.
“The two of you should have everything you need. I’m going to work on flushing out these fucking brothers so we can take them out and get you home.”
“Good,” I say. “The sooner the better.”
The faster I kill Abbott and get on with my life, the better.