Chapter 20 Sean
Sean
Iawake from a deep sleep, cold and sensing something is wrong.
Ciara’s whimper from across the room makes my eyes fly open, and I sit up to see the sight of her naked and held at gunpoint while one of the three men gropes her tits.
She is seconds away from detonating, but I get there first. I launch off the bed and slam my fist into his face, even as the sound of a silenced shot echoes around the room, as the bullet punches the ceiling.
“Now-now,” a familiar voice says as I loom over the downed groper. “That wasn’t nice.”
“Neither is sexually assaulting my wife, you cunt,” I grit out. I recognize his face less than his voice. But it’s definitely the prick who beat me at cards the other day before Connor sobered me up.
He lowers the gun until it is pointing at me and leans against the doorway, taking a bite out of an apple. “Where’s my money, Sean?”
“I said you’ll get it,” I grit out, reaching for Ciara and yanking her behind me, regardless of the weapons trained on both of us. “You don’t fucking touch her again.”
“Give me what you owe me now, or I’ll take payment from her.”
The rage that explodes in my chest is colder than the ice bath I deserve. It’s not the hot, hazy anger of a drunk; it’s sharp, crystal clear, and murderous. My gambling didn’t just cost me money this time; it brought wolves into the one place no one was ever supposed to come.
With Connor’s men stationed at every angle, how the hell did they even get in?
“You take another step toward her, and I tear the skin from your face while you’re still screaming,” I snarl.
Ciara’s breath is hot against my back, her nails digging into my skin. She isn’t cowering; she’s calculating. I know her well enough now to know she’s scanning the room for a weapon.
The weasel takes another bite of his apple, chewing loudly, unbothered by the violent threats. “Tough talk for a man with his balls hanging out and empty pockets. You owe me twelve grand, O’Neill. Plus, interest for the inconvenience of taking out your men outside, breaking and entering.”
“My men,” I scoff. “Try Connor’s. You aren’t walking out of here alive.”
The flash of fear is fleeting, but it was real. He didn’t realize they weren’t mine. He gestures with the barrel of the silenced pistol toward Ciara, whose body tenses against mine. “She’s pretty. Worth a few grand for a go, I reckon. Maybe we knock a zero off the debt for every hour.”
The world narrows down to a single point of violence. The guilt of my addiction, the shame of dragging her into my mess—it all vanishes, replaced by the absolute need to destroy. I don’t care about the gun. I don’t care about the money.
“Touch her,” I whisper, stepping forward, “and I’ll burn your whole fucking world down.” The guy on the floor with the busted nose tries to get up. “Stay down,” I say, pointing at him, but not looking at him.
The third guy is indecisive. He is hovering, not sure if he is willing to go up against Connor O’Neill. He will run. I can practically smell it.
“Shut the fuck up,” the apple-eating fucker snaps, the gun wavering slightly as he points it at my chest. “Get on your knees. Both of you.”
“No,” I say simply.
The third guy, the hesitant one by the dresser, takes a step back. “Mick, maybe we should—”
“Shut up!” Mick spits out, turning his head for a fraction of a second to bark at his lackey.
That’s all I need.
I don’t think. I don’t breathe. I launch myself forward, a naked battering ram of pure, unadulterated fury.
I close the distance before he can swing the silencer back around.
My hand clamps over the slide of the pistol just as he pulls the trigger.
The muffled sound is innocuous, but the slide bites into my palm, jamming the weapon instantly.
I drive my knee into Mick’s groin with bone-shattering force. He folds like wet cardboard, and I wrench the useless gun from his grip, spinning to crack the butt of it across his temple.
I don’t stop. I can’t stop. The monster is out of the cage, and it’s hungry for a fucking fight.
The guy on the ground aims his gun at me, but I spin, using his leader as a human shield, while Ciara dives for cover over the bed and slips out the door. The fired off shot hits my shield square in the chest, and he gurgles.
The shock on the shooter’s face is priceless as Mick goes dead weight in my arms. I shove the useless sack of meat forward, letting the corpse crash down onto the man on the floor, pinning his arm under the bloody bulk of his boss.
He grunts, thrashing under the weight, but I don’t give him a second to recover.
I step in, bringing my bare heel down on his exposed wrist. The bone snaps with a wet crunch, and the gun goes loose in his grip.
I kick him in the temple to shut him up, silence reclaiming the room for a heartbeat.
But it’s not enough. I shove Mick off him and haul the groper up by his shirt front, and I lose my sanity on him.
My knuckles split on the third punch; his face is a fucking mess.
I’m not even bothered about the third guy, who is trying to inch his way out of the room while I’m beating his buddy to death.
I snatch the weapon from the floor and aim at the unconscious, bloody man and pull the trigger, then spin toward the one trying to escape.
I see why he didn’t get very far, nor tried to kill me.
He is shaking so hard his gun is wavering uselessly in his grip.
He looks from his dead friends to me, terror draining the blood from his face.
Ciara has him in her sights.
“Drop it,” I snarl, leveling the pistol at his head.
A shot rings out, loud and sharp in the confined space. The coward’s chest explodes in a bloom of red, and he crumples backward before hitting the floor.
Ciara is naked as the day she was born, holding a small gun with perfect, two-handed form, her green eyes cold and unblinking.
“Jesus, woman,” I breathe, lowering my weapon as I look at the carnage of our wedding night. “Remind me never to piss you off.”
“Too late for that,” she says, turning the gun on me.
“Whoa,” I say, holding my hands up. “Don’t turn on me.”
“What kind of hard man doesn’t sleep with a weapon under his goddamned pillow?” she snarls.
“The drunk kind scared of shooting himself in the fucking head in his sleep,” I retort.
Her eyes flash dangerously, but I see the fleeting understanding before it vanishes again. “Well, you are not drunk now, arsehole, so get a weapon and put it where we can both defend ourselves next time.”
“Next time? There won’t be a fucking next time, Ciara,” I say, “I can promise you that.” I am fucking fuming.
The rage that these arseholes dared to come into my apartment, hold my wife at gunpoint, touch her…
I have to force myself to calm down before I go on a bender that will likely end my life.
“Connor is going to go fucking ballistic,” I add under my breath.
“Never mind your father,” she spits out. “I was defenseless. I can fight, but not three of them.”
The crack in her voice cuts through my rage, and I drop the gun on the bed and go to her. The gun shakes in her hand, and I take it from her, crushing her to me. “I’m sorry, Ciara. I let them hurt you.”
“I’m fine, you fucking idiot.”
“He touched you.”
“He grabbed my tits, big deal. I’ve had worse.”
“Excuse me?” I grit out as she pushes me away. “Who?”
She gives me an incredulous look. “Does it matter? It was years ago. Forget that. Focus on now. We need to clean this mess up and arm ourselves. This fortress is pretty fucking crap if these morons could get in.”
I stare at her in disbelief. It matters. It matters a whole fucking lot that someone violently put their hands on her in the past, but the look in her eyes tells me now isn’t the time to dig up that particular graveyard. She’s right. We are standing in a bloodbath, naked, shivering, and exposed.
“Get showered and dressed in under two minutes,” I command, grabbing my sweats from over the back of the chair.
She doesn’t argue, just turns to the en-suite and is in the shower before she turns it on.
I turn my attention to the mess. There is only one thing for it.
Snatching my phone from the nightstand, I dial.
“Yeah?” Connor answers on the first ring.
“Your security is shit,” I snap, staring at the blood soaking into the expensive white carpet. “Send the cleaners. And tell Liam I need a new gun.”