29. Lara
29
LARA
I hate that I can’t stop shaking, that every step toward the Murphy mansion makes my feet feel heavy and numb. I want to run in the other direction. And maybe I would have, if it wasn’t for Rory.
I hate everything about this house except for Rory’s bed. Everything feels so cold and unfeeling, not at all like my father’s warm house.
A wave of missing Da, missing my family, makes me almost dizzy, and I brace myself against the door.
“Are you all right?” Rory’s voice comes from behind me, and I nod quickly, moving forward so he can come in behind me.
There’re no guards in sight, which seems a little strange. I guess Niall knew how upset Rory would be at the “test,” so he made everyone scarce.
I don’t feel grounded until I’m in Rory’s room, and then my shoulders slump. I’m trying so hard not to fall apart, because I know how much Rory must be hurting.
His father isn’t like mine. His father doesn’t love, or at least if he does, it’s a twisted kind of love.
My father’s always showered me and my siblings with affection and praise. He’s always supported us, even if the activities he participates in outside of the household aren’t exactly saint-like behavior.
I can’t begin to imagine what Rory is going through.
He plops down on the end of the bed, looking down at his hands as if they’re covered in blood.
“Baby.” I walk up to him and put my hand on the back of his neck, threading my fingers through the long hair there. It’s grown out a bit since I met him. “Why don’t we take a shower?”
He looks up at me with tired eyes, but nods, his shoulders still slumped.
I take his hand and tug him up, leading him to the bathroom and starting the water.
“Hot,” he rasps as I start to turn the cold water on.
I bite my lip, knowing this is likely a reaction to the trauma, but I still only turn a little cold water on.
The spray is almost scalding, but it’s what he needs right now.
I unbutton his shirt, slowly undressing him while trying to keep eye contact.
Rory’s eyes seem distant, far away, almost glassed over. It worries me.
I push off his shirt but when I start to unbutton his pants, he covers my fingers with his own and does it for me, dropping them to the ground along with his boxers.
I undress myself.
Rory steps in first, pulling me along with him and taking the brunt of the hot water.
I try to give him some space at first, but he must see on my face that I’m worried.
“I’m okay,” he says softly, pulling me closer, and his chest is so warm from the water that it nearly burns my cheek.
I don’t pull away, though, needing the closeness. Tears spring to the backs of my eyes, and I’m not sure why.
“I was so scared.” The whisper comes out of my mouth, but I can’t believe I said it out loud.
Rory needs me. I can’t break down.
“I'll never let anything happen to you."
When I just sniffle against his skin, he brings my face up to his and cups it, making me look at him.
“I’ll protect you, Lara. I swear it.”
“I know you will.” I take a shaky breath and feel a little better.
Rory kisses me, pressing his mouth to mine and pulling me even closer.
I’m surprised when he slides his tongue into my mouth, but not unwilling.
I always want him close to me, and now that I know he feels the same way, I can’t help myself from expressing it.
“I love you, Rory,” I whisper as he pulls away to nip at my neck, leaving little marks along my skin.
He looks up at me with bloodshot eyes and smiles softly. It makes him look boyish and ten years younger when he smiles at me like that, makes my heart race.
“I love you, too, honey.” With that, he slides his hand down between my legs, brushing his fingertips against my lower lips and then delving two of them inside, knuckle deep.
He groans when I moan and rock against his fingers. “Eager girl.”
“Please,” I whimper, needing him so badly I can barely stand it.
I need to feel something other than scared, need to know that we’re both alive after all the violence and death.
Rory hums a growl in the back of his throat and puts his hands on my hips, turning me to face the wall.
I brace my palms on the tile and arch my back, placing my feet further apart in the bathtub and trying not to slip.
Rory slides his fingers back into me, pumping them in and out, and my head hangs down as I pant, getting closer and closer to my peak.
He doesn’t let up, just thrusting them deeper, and a cry of his name falls from my lips as I go over the edge, my thighs trembling.
He groans softly before removing his fingers, too soon, so that I whine at how empty I feel. He doesn’t give me much time to feel that way, though, guiding himself into me and burying himself to the hilt.
I gasp, rolling my hips back against him, and Rory’s achingly still.
When I turn my head so I can see his face, he’s gritting his teeth, watching my ass and hips as they jiggle against him.
“That’s it, honey,” he rasps. “Make yourself come all over my cock.”
I flush red at his dirty words, my heart galloping in my chest.
I bite down hard on my lip when I start to clench around him again.
Rory moans, his fingers digging into my hips as he pulls me back against him, finally starting to thrust in and out of me instead of letting me do the work.
I’m grateful because my thighs are shaking, and I can barely hold myself upright, the adrenaline from the violence and now the sex the only thing keeping me from giving into mental and physical exhaustion.
I choke out a moan, my orgasm seeming to go on forever while Rory keeps up the pace, his hips stuttering after a long moment and a few more strokes.
He spills hot inside me, and I nearly collapse against the shower tile.
Rory chuckles in between catching his breath, pulling out of me, and puling me close, my bare back against his chest. He kisses along my neck and shoulder, biting down gently at the juncture between them.
“Feel better?”
I murmur my agreement, but it comes out jumbled, my body going limp in his arms.
Rory kisses along my jawline, making quick work of washing us off, not bothering to shampoo my hair. It’ll stick out all over the place in the morning, but I don’t care. I just want to be with Rory, wrapped up in his arms so I don’t have to think about anything else.
Ten minutes later, I’m exactly where I want to be, curled up next to him with my head on his shoulder. I’m sure that Rory will be up all night, but instead, he’s snoring quietly not long after pulling the covers over us.
I guess all the adrenaline rushing out of his body must have allowed him to shut down.
Unfortunately, I’m not so lucky. I can’t seem to calm down, tossing and turning. I keep looking at the ceiling until I huff and turn to one side. By now, Rory has shifted in his sleep, and he’s facing away from me.
I can’t stop thinking about what happened tonight, how Rory killed all those men, and all for what? For me? A girl he barely knows, in the scheme of things.
He says he loves me, but can he? Can he really? I know how I feel. I know that he’s the one for me, but part of me can’t help being suspicious that I’m going to end up not being enough for him. Or that he’ll resent me because of all he’s had to do for me.
Not to mention, his father is Niall Murphy. I know from being friends with Bree that I can’t hold that against him, but how will we end up together in the end? Can we really find direct proof to take to the police? Even if we do, can we do it without incriminating ourselves and my father?
I know how deeply it affects Rory to hurt people, to kill. I know how much he doesn’t want to be like his father, but every time something like this happens, every time he kills to protect me, it eats away at him.
Thinking about it makes my eyes burn with tears, but I can’t help feeling like if he’d never met me, he’d be back to his accountant job, and he wouldn’t be struggling.
I don’t realize that I’ve slept at all until Rory’s burner phone starts to ring. Surprisingly, Rory doesn’t wake, so I reach over him and pick it up.
“Hello?”
“Lara,” Gray breathes, and I relax slightly.
“Gray, thank God, I thought maybe it was something bad?—”
“It’s not good news, exactly,” he warns. “But it’s what we’ve been looking for.”
I glance at Rory, who is still sleeping, eyes bruised beneath as if he hasn’t been sleeping well for a long time. Instead of waking him, I wriggle out of bed, walking out on the balcony to finish the call.
“Is it about Ma?”
“No. It’s about Bree and Rory’s mother.” He sighs. “Declan would have called, but he’s been comforting Bree ever since they found the information.”
“What information?”
“I talked to one of Niall’s men that has since defected. He used to live with the family, was high up in the Murphy clan. He’s been in hiding from Niall for years now.”
“What did he say?” I start pacing around the balcony, biting at my cuticles until they sting and bleed.
“He said that the day that she ‘left,’ all her things were still there. Her clothes. Her purse. Her phone. She didn’t take a single item from the house. He wasn’t a part of the order to clean things up, but he overheard it. Niall talked about how they had to leave no crumbs, not even a single thread to lead this back to him.”
“That’s... that’s not quite proof.”
“Maybe not, but it’s the best we’ve got, for now. I’m still waiting on a call back from Niall’s old cleaner–it actually is someone that we used to work with. Ivan.”
“Ivan the Russian?” I remember the man from when I was little because he used to love kids, liked to ride me and Paige around playing “pony” on the floor while Da took phone calls.
“You know any other Ivans?”
I roll my eyes at my brother’s sass, but it’s not unusual. At least he’s not still suspicious of Rory.
“Let me know if you hear from him. He’s a trustworthy guy, so if he has any information, we know it to be true.”
“Will do.” He pauses. “Da says to tell you he loves you.”
Tears fill my eyes all over again. “I love him, too. I love everyone. I hope to see you all soon.”
Gray hangs up, and it's only about thirty minutes of me still stomping around the balcony and wreaking havoc on my cuticles before he texts me: Ivan says it’s true. He says he cleaned it up.
Shit.
I keep staring down at the text message as if it’s going to change the longer I stare at it.
Rory’s mother was killed. By his father.
Even though he suspects it, especially after learning about Bree’s talk with Niall, I know that it’s going to hurt him. I know that he’s going to be upset, and he’s already so fragile from what happened last night…
“Lara?”
Rory’s call from the bedroom startles me, and I nearly drop the phone.
I turn to look at him, and he’s frowning, his brows knitting together.
“What’s wrong? What happened?”
I take a shaky breath. “Gray called. He talked to one of your father’s men. He said your mother didn’t take anything with her–no clothes, no money, nothing.”
Rory’s face slowly drains of blood, getting paler and paler until I reach up to cup one of his cheeks.
“Then we talked to one of his cleaners, same one we used, Ivan?—”
“Ivan the Russian?”
It would normally be funny, us having the same reaction, but in this circumstance, I can’t crack a smile.
I just nod. “He worked for us when I was young, after he worked with your father. I’m sorry, Rory. He confirmed it.”
Rory’s eyes widen in something that’s not quite shock but close, and then he turns away from me, walking back into the bedroom and starting to get dressed.
“R-Rory?” I stutter. “What are you doing? Where are you going?”
“I’m going to confront my father.”
I stand up, walking toward him, and he doesn’t stop until I take his arm almost roughly.
“You can’t do that right now.” I look him in the eyes, hoping that he understands. “If you go off half-cocked?—”
Rory sighs, gently pulling away from me and sitting on the end of the bed, putting his face in his hands.
“You’re right.” He rubs his face before looking up at me. His eyes seem almost empty, and that worries me. “You’re right, I need to think about this.”
I move slowly, as if he’s a wounded animal on the attack.
I don’t think Rory would ever hurt me, but I know how much this is affecting him, and I don’t want to spook him.
“What do you want to do about this?”
“I want to beat him within an inch of his life,” Rory growls.
I put my hand on his thigh, and it gives me some hope that Rory puts his hand over mine. Hope that he might wait and think, be rational about this.
“I know, but you know that won’t work. He has men everywhere, they’ll hurt you.”
He nods. “I need him to admit it. I need him to say it to my face. He... he killed my mother, Lara.”
His voice breaks at the end of the sentence, and I reach out to hug him tightly, feeling comforted when he hugs me back.
“We’re going to get through this, Rory.” I put as much ferocity in my voice as I can manage. I want him to know that I’m here for him through this. Through everything. “Whatever you decide, I’ll be by your side.”
Rory nods slowly, burying his face in my shoulder, and I hold him for a long, long time.
Chapter Thirty