Chapter 23 KATIE
KATIE
Aiden’s taut body glistens with sweat, pinning me to the mattress beneath him. His stuttered breaths brush the column of my neck as he leans in closer, his lips grazing my skin. How is it that a single touch from this man can ignite every nerve ending in me?
“Fuck,” he whispers hoarsely, “I think you might be the death of me.”
His lips fuse with mine in a searing kiss. I’d all but melt to his touch had I not just heard something pop downstairs. I pull away, not getting a chance to ask what the hell made that noise before he’s already out of bed, grabbing his Glock from the nightstand, and pulling me from the mattress.
“Aiden, what the—”
“Shh,” he cuts me off, pressing a finger to my lips as he leads me towards the bedroom door. “Put this on,” he whispers, picking his shirt up from the floor and handing it to me. I quickly slip it on and spot him jumping into a pair of joggers.
“Is that a silencer?” I ask in a hushed tone, watching him attach the suppressor to his gun.
Aiden nods, signalling for me to stay behind him, he backs me up behind the bedroom door when the unmistakable sound of footsteps approach.
I hold my breath, my heart pounding in my chest, a stark contrast to Aiden, who seems unnervingly calm and collected.
At least one of us isn’t on the verge of having a heart attack!
As the footsteps draw closer, Aiden gives me a reassuring smirk just as the door slowly creaks open, revealing a hooded figure stepping into the room. It would be easier to calm my nerves if it were just him; I can hear more movement downstairs, causing my stomach to slither down to my rectum.
Aiden fires off a shot so fast that it takes the body of the intruder falling to the floor, only for Aiden to catch it to stop the noise from alerting anyone else in the house, for me to realise he even moved.
Covering my mouth with my hands, I trap a cry of shock. I’ve never seen anyone die before, never mind watching my boyfriend take a life so effortlessly.
That red flag is no longer waving in my face; it’s grown legs and doing the fucking can-can in front of me.
Christ, he doesn’t even blink. Trying to ignore the blood splattered on the walls and floors, I focus on Aiden’s expressionless face as he calmly says, “Don’t look, bug.
” Lifting me into his arms, he carries me into the en-suite like I’m made of glass—I suppose I am when it comes to this part of his life.
“Stay here,” he places me behind the shower wall, completely out of sight from anyone who enters the bedroom or even the bathroom, unless they step into the shower itself.
“I’ll be right back, I promise.” Aiden kisses my forehead gently before disappearing into the bedroom, leaving me alone with my thoughts and my growing anxiety.
I strain my ears to catch any sound of movement outside; for once, autism is on my side.
My mother always said I could hear the grass grow, and in this moment, I cling to that heightened sense of hearing as an indicator that Aiden is unharmed.
The muffled sound of a gunshot down the hall has me sighing in relief; that was him.
That was his gun. He’s ok. A beat later, the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching has me sinking back against the tiled wall.
My trembling hands press into the cold, black tiles. I try to steady my breathing while adrenaline courses through my veins. Unfortunately, my fight or flight response has kicked in, and now I desperately need to pee, throw up, or both.
Footsteps sound on the tiles. I’m sure my spirit just left my body because that is not Aiden. I know it’s not Aiden because he’s barefoot and those footsteps are shod.
Please, just leave. Please, please, please.
The glint of a gun catches my eye before the unnervingly calm stare of a stranger meets mine. If he says anything, I cannot hear it, not with the rush of blood pounding in my ears. My gaze is fixed on the barrel of his gun as he lifts his arm and points it directly at me.
A meaty thumb pulls the hammer back with a click that echoes in the room.
I will myself to move, but I’m frozen in place, unable to tear my eyes away from imminent death.
His finger moves for the trigger, and I’m almost sure I see a flash right before his body jerks to the side, blood, skull fragments, and brain matter splattering against the wall.
Aiden steps forward, his gun smoking in his hand. He looks at the body on the ground as if he could grind it to mincemeat with his gaze alone, then turns to me, his cold, expressionless mask slipping and that warm gaze he usually reserves for me shining through.
“Katie.” He’s at my side in an instant, pulling me into a tight embrace. “Are you okay?”
I can’t answer. I can’t control my body; the only thing I can do is throw myself away from him in time to avoid vomiting all over him.
“It’s ok, bug. It’s ok. Don’t look, baby.
Just focus on me,” he whispers soothingly, rubbing my back in gentle circles.
I close my eyes and lean into his touch, trying to block out the horror before me.
“I know, baby, I know it’s overwhelming.
Just breathe with me, okay? In and out. Nice and slow,” he continues to comfort me as I struggle to regain control of my body.
“You’re safe with me. I won’t let anything happen to you. ”
When I stop convulsing, he picks me up and carries me into the guestroom, where there are thankfully no dead bodies. “Look at me,” Aiden lowers himself onto his knees. “We’re going to get you dressed, and I’m taking you to the house in Tipperary tonight.”
“B-but,” I look in the direction of his bedroom.
“Let me worry about the bodies,” Aiden insists, his voice firm but gentle. “Right now, your safety is my priority. Trust me.” With a reassuring smile, he offers me his hands and gently pulls me to my feet before helping me dress and guiding me from the room.
There is a body on the landing, one at the bottom of the stairs, and another in the kitchen.
“Who are you, John Wick?” Bile rushes up my throat as I fight to keep my composure.
Aiden simply shakes his head, leading me out of the house without another word, grabbing a hoodie on the way out and putting it on, shielding his bare chest.
“Come on, bug,” I didn’t see him grab the keys or his phone, but he’s got both in one hand. His car flashes as it unlocks with a beep, and I numbly follow him inside. Once Aiden is sure that I’m buckled in, he starts the car and pulls out of the driveway, leaving the scene behind us.
Holding his phone under his chin, he starts making calls, his expression unreadable.
“Hello?”
“Robbie, I need you to haul arse to Foxrock. I’ve got some things I need to dispose of, and I haven’t got the time to do it myself.”
“Shit, are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Just need you to do me a favour. Can you handle it?”
“Yeah, not a bother. I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” Robbie says through a yawn. “You’re sure you’re ok?”
“Get hold of,” Aiden glances my way briefly before fixing his gaze on the road ahead. “The lads. I’ve got a job that needs doing.”
“Walsh?”
“Walsh.”
“Shit,” Robbie mutters under his breath. It sounds like he’s rummaging around his house for something. Most likely trying to dress in a hurry. “Why now?”
“Katie was in the house.” Aiden doesn’t look at me, as if he’s trying to keep his emotions in check.
“Fuck, is she okay?”
“She’s fine. I’m taking her elsewhere for the night.
Just see that the job is done tonight, and I’ll go over details in the morning,” he hangs up, I can see the tension in his jaw as he grips the steering wheel tighter.
He’s not anxious or rattled; he’s pissed.
If the white knuckle grip on the steering wheel doesn’t give it away, the set of his jaw definitely does.
“You’re okay, bug,” he mutters. This time, I think that it’s more of a reassurance to himself than to me.
“Aiden?”
A low animalistic rumble sounds from his chest. “I’m going to fucking kill that prick.”
“You think Walsh sent those—”
“I know,” he interrupts me, his voice low and dangerous.
“I know it was him.” One hand comes off the wheel and falls to my leg, gripping me tightly as if seeking comfort in the midst of his anger.
“If I had been a second late—” His fist collides with the dash once, twice, three times.
The car swerves dangerously, but he quickly regains control.
He turns to look at me, and I swear, for the first time, there is a flicker of fear in his eyes.
“I’m alright,” sliding my hand to his leg, I try to calm him down. “Do you want me to drive?”
“No,” he snorts, shaking his head. “I’m fine to drive.
” After a few beats, his shoulders drop from under his ears, and he lets out a deep sigh.
Bringing my hand to his lips, he presses a gentle kiss on my knuckles before focusing back on the road ahead.
“I’m sorry, I just… I can’t lose you,” he admits.
“I almost fucking did.” He flips the indicator and changes lanes, guiding us onto the motorway.
I glance at him, noticing the tension in his jaw. “Do I want to know who you asked Robbie to contact?”
“No,” I wouldn’t be at all surprised to see smoke billowing from his nostrils right about now. “It’s better if you don’t get involved.”
“I don’t want you putting yourself in danger.
” I stifle a yawn, then another. It’s strange that I feel like I could sleep for a month when I was staring down the barrel of a gun twenty minutes ago.
You’d think I’d be wide awake after that kind of scare, but I guess the adrenaline is finally wearing off.
I lean my head against the window and close my eyes, convinced he won’t answer.
His fingers dig into my leg, pulling it closer to him. “The only one in danger here is the bastard who sent those men to our home.”
It is right then that I understand his request. Walsh sent goons for Aiden; my man has just ordered soldiers to the front lines. He’s going to war.