Jhene #4
“I don’t know where I put it,” I croak breathlessly. “I didn’t realize until I left the Banshee. Then I figured I’d stop by the gym and—”
“And it was fucking loud and crowded and there were lots of large sweaty men grunting,” he finishes for me.
I fall silent again. My gaze slides to the ground, and I revert back to nodding.
“That place reeks,” he goes on gruffly. “It smells like sour milk and ball sweat. Don’t blame you for getting a little lightheaded. C’mon.”
We both know that’s not what happened, yet he’s willing to pretend otherwise.
He jerks his head down the street, and we set off in the direction that’ll take us home.
…or I guess, more accurately, to his studio.
We walk down another block settled into our silence, seemingly at peace with it. I use the time to appreciate how the warm evening air hits my face and washes away the sensory overload from the gym.
It helps me feel like myself again as I remember it’s in my head.
I escaped the Bratva and am a free woman. I can’t go getting caught up in the past.
Saving Eva needs to be my priority, not feeling sorry for myself.
But before that, an urge to explain strikes me.
I sneak a sideways glance at Killian as we reach an intersection and wait for the little man on the crosswalk signal to glow.
“That guy you slammed against the wall? He didn’t do anything to me,” I say hoarsely. “He was just trying to help me up. It was my fault. I was… confused.”
“That happen a lot?”
“Um… sometimes.” I wrap my arms around myself like I’m cold despite the fact it’s summer. “I walked in there and didn’t realize how many… men would be there.”
Killian decides not to push for more information, merely inclining his head in a nod. You’d think he understands.
…maybe he does.
“I’ll get you a new key made tomorrow,” he says. “Next time, go back to the Banshee and call me. Don’t come to the gym alone.”
“I hate it, you know?”
He cocks a brow at me. His only response.
Funny, considering I often communicate the same way—wordless gestures and nonverbal cues. It seems we have that in common.
The more time we spend together, the more I’m realizing I understand what his mean.
More than just his scowls, the other idiosyncrasies too.
The tic of his jaw. The squaring of his shoulders. The furrow of his brow and narrowing of his deep, penetrative blue eyes.
At first glance, Killian comes across as some grouchy boxer who gets paid to smash men’s faces in. Some boneman for the Irish mob whose job it is to stand behind his boss and look scary and intimidating.
But there’s more to the towering, muscular enforcer. A lot more than I guessed the moment I walked up to his table to serve him nights ago.
I decide to keep going. Explain what I mean. What I hate.
“It’s tough being on the run,” I say. “It makes me feel weak. Every other moment I’m reminded how, even though I’m free, I’m still at the Bratva’s mercy. I think… a part of me always will be. The memories? They won’t go away.”
He sticks his hands into the pockets of his gym shorts.
“The bad moments tend not to. Those fuckers tend to stick around. But that doesn’t make you weak, Jhene.
You escaped the fucking Bratva. I know grown men—mobsters—who’re terrified of them.
You not only got away, you decided you’ll do anything to get your sister back.
You know how impressive that is? How much fucking guts it takes? ”
I almost smile to myself, barely resisting the urge.
It’s been a very long time since anyone’s complimented me. Even longer since I’ve believed it.
“Point is, you’re a pain in the ass, girl,” he grunts. “But you’re also a stubborn, brave little thing, and I’m not mad about it. I respect it.”
“Err… thanks,” I mumble.
We’ve rounded another corner, one more block to go until we reach his building.
“I don’t want to go to the safehouse.”
“Already said you don’t have to. You’ve got your sister to find.”
“It’s not…” I pause for a sigh I shudder out. “It’s not just that. It’s… um, I guess… it’s that… I don’t feel safe anywhere else.”
Killian’s next step falters slightly as his gaze meets mine, and my face warms like it usually does when on the receiving end of his stare.
“What I mean is…” I stammer awkwardly. “We’ve already gotten to know each other. Sort of. A-and… and it’s hard to trust anyone. I don’t want to take any more chances.”
The start of a grin pulls at his mouth, battling with his natural scowl. “Then you don’t have to. You’ll stay with me. For as long as it takes for this to be over.”
We’ve finally come up on his apartment building, the concrete steps spread out in front of us in invitation. I go up them first with Killian only a stair behind.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Thinking it’s a night to order in. There’s a decent pizza spot that delivers.”
“What about your training?”
“Sounds like a tomorrow problem. I’ll let my trainer bitch me out then.”
I do smile, the expression feeling foreign on my face after so many days where I had no reason to.
“Pizza sounds good. So long as you’re okay with jalapenos.”