Chapter 7 Kieran
Kieran
“I remained too much inside my head and ended up losing my mind.” Edgar Allan Poe
The neon glow of Salvation slices through the night, the familiar bass reverberating in my chest as I push through the doors.
The days may be running together, but for a Tuesday evening, it is insanely busy, which I am sure makes Vincent’s pocketbook happy.
The air is thick with sweat, whiskey, and desire, the same as it’s always been.
But I’m different. Everything for me has changed. Salvation may have saved me once, but Deirdre saved me the moment she stepped into work that night. Then, again, when she walked into my class. It’s as though the universe quite literally planted her in my path.
The moment I step inside, I spot Gabe behind the bar.
Damn, he’s fast. We left the hospital at the same time.
He’s already rolling up his sleeves and sliding a drink to a waiting patron.
He’s taken over the shift, relieving the bartender without hesitation, the way he has done every night since Deirdre’s attack.
I should be surprised at how quickly he’s stepped into a protective role, but I’m not.
Not when it comes to her. Most men would be jealous of their bond.
Not me. He loves her in a way that’s more familial, something she has lacked since her father died.
He catches my eye and gives me a sharp nod. I return it, acknowledging the unspoken understanding between us.
Gratitude settles in my chest. Claire might have been Deirdre’s rock these last few months in the classroom, but Gabe has been right there beside her, watching over her in ways I couldn’t.
I move past the bar, heading toward Vincent’s office, my mind already consumed with whatever the hell he has to tell me, prepared to argue.
But I don’t make it far.
A hand, delicate, familiar, and most certainly unwelcome, closes around my forearm, stopping me mid-step.
“Well, well,” a sultry voice purrs, “if it isn’t the elusive Professor McKnight.”
When I recognize the voice, I exhale through my nose, trying to stifle a laugh, thinking back to her nickname.
Miss Legs for Days.
I’m not in the mood for this. Not now.
I turn, meeting the icy blue eyes of the blonde standing before me, a woman I once knew too well.
Her lips curl into a coy, playful, calculated curve. She steps in closer, her fingers trailing up my arm. “I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”
I grip her wrist before she can move any farther, my hold just shy of bruising. “To which you know is correct. We’ve had this discussion, LeAnne.”
She pouts, feigning offense. “Now, Kieran…”
“Mr. McKnight,” I correct, my voice is ice cold.
Her expression flickers, a crack in her confidence. But then she recovers, pressing her body subtly toward mine, lowering her voice to something silkier, more intimate.
“Come to the VIP room with me,” she murmurs. “For old times’ sake.”
Something ugly stirs in my gut.
Once, I might have indulged her. Once, I did.
But that man, the one who sought mindless pleasure to drown out the ghosts of his past, is dead.
I lean in, my mouth just beside her ear, my voice devoid of warmth.
“What we had,” I say, “is over. I’ve told you that once. If I have to remind you again, you will have to find another club to pathetically prowl around.”
Her breath hitches, but I don’t give her a chance to respond before I pull back, meeting her eyes with an unyielding stare.
“It would be in your best interest to never touch me again.”
The finality in my tone must hit its mark because her expression shifts from sultry to sneering. Her lips curl into a scowl, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Must be serious,” she muses, tilting her head. “This thing with you and that poor little cocktail waitress.”
My body locks up.
“Don’t think I haven’t seen you two here together. It’s pathetic, how she drools over you like a little puppy.”
The club fades away, the music, the voices, everything.
I step forward, crowding into her space, my voice dropping into something low, lethal.
“Disrespect her again. I dare you.”
She lifts a brow, still playing her game. “I didn’t. I was her once. She will realize it’s just a game to you, and you will drop her like you did me.”
I don’t blink. Don’t move. Don’t breathe.
“You so much as set foot in this club again, Vincent will see to it that you’re thrown out on your gold-digging ass,” I murmur. “You wouldn’t want that, now would you?”
Something in my expression must finally unnerve her because her glare falls.
I step back, leaving her standing there, stunned, and walk away.
By the time I reach Vincent’s office, my pulse is still thrumming, my teeth grinding together.
I inhale once, twice, willing myself back to my center before I push open the door.
Because right now, I don’t have time for distractions.
Not when there’s a man still out there who needs to pay.
I push into Vincent’s office and shut the door behind me, the familiar scent of leather and old cigar settling in the air. He’s leaning back in his chair, a picture of ease, even though I know better.
“Shouldn’t you be out there micromanaging your club?” I quip, arms crossing over my chest.
Vincent exhales a quiet laugh, tipping his head back. “You know I’m not one to micromanage.”
I scoff, shaking my head. “Bullshit.”
He motions to the chair in front of his desk. “Sit.”
I stay where I am. “What, are we having a therapy session now?”
“She’s awake, Kieran.”
The statement should offer relief, but the way he says it, pointed, edged with meaning, makes my spine go rigid.
“You need to focus on her healing. Your reputation. Both of yours.” He sits forward, resting his forearms on the desk. “Sheridan’s not an idiot. He’s going to figure it out if he hasn’t already.” He pauses, lets it sink in. “Let this go. Let the cops handle it.”
I glare at him.
“Let it go?” My voice is deadly quiet.
Vincent doesn’t blink. “Yeah. Let it go. Because, personally, I’m tired of being on the clean-up committee.”
My hands curl into fists at my sides. “I will find Trevor.”
Vincent sighs and rubs a hand down his face. “That’s another thing.” His voice is lower now, edged with frustration. “When are you going to tell her what you did?”
My jaw locks.
“She needs to know, Kieran. She thinks there are two men after her.” He shakes his head. “We both know there’s only one possibility for her attacker. We both know this wasn’t random. You need to tell her you got rid of Brandon Danforth that night and why.”
“I will, but like you said, she just woke up. I can’t just throw this on her and expect her to be okay.” My voice is clipped. “But if you think I won’t kill for her again, you’re wrong.”
Vincent leans back, watching me, waiting.
I step forward, bracing my hands on his desk.
“You weren’t there, Vincent.” My voice drops, something raw bleeding through. “You didn’t see her lying there. You didn’t feel her bones crack beneath your hands.” My breath shudders as I straighten. “He doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as her, so don’t fucking tell me to let it go.”
Vincent exhales through his nose, rubbing his fingers over his temple.
I narrow my eyes at him, and then, just to dig the knife in a little deeper, I ask, “Haven’t you ever loved someone so much that you’d burn everything down for them?”
Silence.
It was a shit move, I realize that, but Vincent tenses. It’s slight, but I see it. There’s a sadness that flickers in his eyes, and his lips press together. His own ghosts are threatening to creep in.
When he finally speaks, his tone is different. “You know more than anyone, I understand, but this is getting messy.”
A beat passes.
He nods when he accepts that I am not going to waver in my mission.
“What do you need me to do?”
I open my mouth to tell him—
The door swings open.
“I heard your voices,” Gabe says, stepping inside, he suspiciously eyes both of us. “I don’t know what the hell’s going on in here, but I know it’s about Deirdre.” He looks between the two of us. “So let me in on whatever the fuck you two are planning.”
Gabe shuts the door behind him, crossing his arms over his chest as he glances between Vincent and me. “Well?” he prompts, impatience thick in his voice.
Vincent leans back in his chair, rubbing his fingers over his jaw before turning his gaze to me. “You want to do the honors, or should I?”
I exhale, pinching the bridge of my nose. There’s no way to lighten this, no way to make it sound better than what it is.
“Brandon Danforth is dead.”
Gabe stiffens. His jaw twitches. “That fuck boy douchebag?”
Vincent watches him carefully and nods. “Kieran took care of it,” he says simply.
Gabe’s stare snaps back to me. “The night of the frat party?” His voice drops, his mind working through the timeline. “When? Weren’t you with her that night?”
I nod. “I didn’t stay the night with her. I ran into Brandon leaving the dorms as I was crossing the courtyard to my car. He followed me. The sight of him pissed me off, but I ignored him. He just kept pressing on about her and me. I lost control. I see red when it comes to her.”
Gabe runs a hand through his hair, muttering a string of curses under his breath before pacing away from us. He’s quiet for a moment, but when he turns back around, his face is tight with something between frustration and reluctant understanding.
“She doesn’t know, does she?” he asks, flatly.
“No. I mean, she may have suspicions,” I admit. “But Vincent sent the withdrawal letter from Danforth. Made it look like he transferred.”
Gabe lets out a breath, shaking his head. “Jesus.”
“I should have told her,” I admit. “I will. Once she’s discharged.” My voice is firm. I have to be the one to tell her, but it has to be when she’s strong enough to handle it.
Gabe stares at me like he wants to argue, but he must see the resolve in my face because he exhales roughly and drops into the chair across from Vincent’s desk. He scrubs his hands down his face before looking at me again. “So what now?”
I glance at Vincent before stepping forward.
“Now, we find the bastard who did this to her. If you’re in, then what I need from you two is to find as much information as you can on Trevor,” I say. “Where he is, who he’s been in contact with, everything.”
Gabe’s eyes harden, and he nods in agreement.
Vincent contemplates the request and agrees. “Consider it done.”
For a moment, there is silence.
“Avalon, California. If he skipped town after, the best thing is to go back to where their history started.” Gabe offers up the information.
“Thank you,” I reply, grateful for any small lead.
Vincent looks at Gabe, teasing, “As much as I love playing find the bad guy with you, you have a bar to tend.”
After rolling his eyes, Gabe exits Vincent’s office, and the door slams shut behind him.
He waits for a moment before he slides a small envelope across the table.
“What is this?”
“Proof,” Vincent says, flatly. “Gabe may know where he lives, but you need proof it was him before you go on a killing spree.”
I snatch it up, tucking it into my coat pocket without looking inside.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Kieran,” Vincent continues, his voice low. “This isn’t one of your poetic tragedies. Keep chasing that anger, and you might not like what you find. You should leave it be. Focus on you and Deirdre.”
I stand abruptly, the legs of my chair scraping against the floor. “Thanks for the warning,” I say, my tone is ice-cold. “But I am focusing on her and I. Now,” I pause, “you said you were in.”
He looks at me, “Do you think it was a good idea to tell him?” His voice is laced with concern.
I don’t even hesitate in my reply, “He loves Deirdre like a little sister. If anyone wants to find this guy more than me…it’s him.”
I step out of Salvation, the chill of the night air hitting me like a slap in the face.
The conversations with Vincent and Gabe still echo in my head.
Trevor’s name replays over and over in my mind.
Every time I think about what he did, bile rises in my throat that burns relentlessly.
I replay my admission to Gabe. Confessing to him what I did to Brandon didn’t bring the relief I thought it would.
It just made me hone in on my anger, made me more focused.
Anyone who hurts Deirdre will die at my hands.
I should be grateful. I am grateful. But my feelings of gratitude don’t quiet the ache in my chest or the wild pull in my gut to see her again, to hold her hand and watch her walk again.
The nurse said physical therapy would begin in the morning. Early mobilization, she called it. I haven’t stopped thinking about it. I haven’t stopped imagining what her face will look like when she tries. Determined. Fierce. Vulnerable.
To get back to the fierce, stubborn woman I have grown to love.
Mine.
God, she’s mine. I tried fighting my feelings, burying them deep down inside of me. I tried to protect her from me. But I couldn’t stay away. I won’t.
The journal lies on the desk in front of me, black leather soft and familiar beneath my hand. I’ve flipped through the pages over and over, but it’s her last entry that still lives under my skin now.
She loves me.
And I’ve been a coward.
I flip the journal open to the first blank page after my last entry, click my pen, and begin to write.
From the moment you sat in the front row, unable to hold back the cutest snort I’ve ever heard, and challenged me with those wide, defiant eyes, I knew I was in trouble.
You were different. Not just beautiful, though you are, in a way that brings me to my knees every time, but you’re brilliant.
And brave. And sharp enough to cut me down to the bone without even trying.
You shook me loose from a world I’d built out of grief and guilt. You reminded me of what it feels like to feel alive.
I tried not to fall for you. I did.
I failed miserably.
I’m in love with you, Deirdre. Hopelessly. Entirely.
And I don’t want to hide it anymore. I don’t want to live in the shadows or bite back my instinct to reach for you in the halls. I don’t want to pretend that we’re nothing, when every fiber of my being knows that what we have is, in fact, everything.
I know what the board at Cornelia will say. I know what it could cost us. I don’t care. Let them try to take it from us.
They’ll fail.
Just like I failed to keep myself from falling in love with you.
Tomorrow, when you take your first steps, I’ll be there.
And every step after that, I’ll be there too.
Yours,
Kieran
I close the journal, the edges warm from my hands. My chest aches with everything I’ve never said aloud.
But soon, she’ll know everything.