Chapter 30 #3
He held me firm against him by the nape, his fingers kneading up and down my vertebrae. It was a small reassurance compared to whatever this new information was.
“This…does not make sense.”
“I swear, it’s not a lie. Every stepmother I’ve ever had, the Love Knot Killer killed. Every lover I’ve had or my brothers have had ends up poisoned, stabbed in the heart, and branded. That’s not conjecture. It’s fact. I can’t have that happen to you. I won’t fucking let it.”
“I’ve never heard of this before. It would have come up in my research.” And it never had. At all.
He closed his eyes and sighed. “Throw enough money at something, and it vanishes. Everything has its price, and we couldn’t have it stain our name. No one wants to do business with people plagued by a serial killer.”
“But your family had financial trouble. That was why you married m—Alizé, no?”
“I’m never sure whether I should be flattered you know so much about me or not.”
I mock-slapped his shoulder, and he snorted. “Answer the question.”
“Aye, we had trouble, but that was after my da lost himself to gambling. Wasn’t always so. My mam came from old money. When she died, he moved us here from Ireland and made a name for himself using her inheritance.”
I narrowed my eyes with skepticism. “There had to be an investigation into this serial killer’s victims.”
“There was. There still is, but the FBI redacted our information from the investigation after we became targets of victims’ families when rumors leaked that the O’Learys had something to do with the killer.
I wasn’t even ten the first time someone came after me.
” He lifted my hand to his skull and trailed my finger down a bumpy, jagged scar hidden by his hairline. “Broken bottle.”
“Purée,” I cursed in French.
“I got lucky. Liam wasn’t so. He has a scar from armpit to waist from another attack.”
“The FBI hasn’t found her?”
His forehead rubbed against mine as he shook his head.
“She’s meticulous. Hasn’t slipped up except once, nine years ago.
I came home early one day and walked in on her trying to murder my wife.
We got her DNA, but nothing else except some basic descriptors.
She’s not in any database. It’s like fishing in the ocean without bait. ”
“Wait. Wait. You said your wife.”
“Aye, Sarah.”
Of course. The wife he cared about. “Sarah,” I repeated with bitterness.
“I love hearing your jealousy.”
“I’m not,” I gritted out.
His finger pulled at my pouty bottom lip. A trickle of amusement tugged at his strained features.
“No need to be. She would never have had anything on you.”
I had no idea what that meant, and right now, I wasn’t ready to dissect it.
“I’m just confused. That’s all. Your wife, Sarah”—because the name felt like an important distinction to make—“died seven years ago, not nine.”
I was pretty sure about that detail.
“You’re right. Sarah died a victim of the Love Knot Killer seven and a half years ago, but that wasn’t the first time LK tried to go after her.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You’re not her killer.” His finger trailed down my jawline and below my chin, then lifted my face. “Can you understand why I fought this, between us, so hard? You mean the world to me, síbhean. You’ve given me new life, and I won’t let her take it from me. Not ever again.”
“Cillian…”
“Every minute of every day, you’re in danger because I couldn’t resist.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck. “I’m in danger every day because you’re a mobster, and I’m no innocent.”
“No, you aren’t. You’re my match.”
The rough grit of his voice sent shivers down to my needy pussy, reminding me she’d been horribly denied.
“Stay with me, love. Willingly. Don’t make me force you.”
“I need time to myself.”
“Absolutely not.”
“It wasn’t a request.”
“You don’t understand how obsessed you’ve made me.
I can’t get enough of you.” His hand dragged down my spine.
“Touching you.” Around my waist. “Holding you.” Lower to squeeze my butt.
“Fucking you. Every moment with you reminds me I’m alive.
I won’t risk you.” He bit and sucked at my jaw.
“You’re mine. That means you stay with me. ”
I broke his hold with one twist and slip of the hand, then stepped back from him.
“Let us get one thing straight. I might really like you, but no one restrains me. No one limits me, and no one stops me from living my life the way I want to live it. Not anymore. Not even you.”
He advanced on me and grappled me back in his arms. “I’ll have to work harder to show you how serious I am.”
“I wasn’t joking. I’ll leave if you do that.”
“You can try.”
“I will.”
He’d see soon enough this was no laughing matter.
Bodyguards, I understood. I’d grown up with them around.
I’d take any amount he assigned, but that didn’t mean I’d play his good little pooch on a leash, only going out when he allowed it.
I rolled under his arm, grabbed his hand, and pulled him after me.
“Come on. You owe me an orgasm, mari chéri.” The last bit came out as a curse.
“Oh, do I?” He waggled those infuriating eyebrows.
“Yes, you very much do.”