Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
“Stop.”
Dmitri looked over his shoulder to find Cillian O’Malley standing on the front step, pointing a gun at him with an unwavering grip. He almost sighed, but he had no intention of getting himself or Keira shot. “Put the gun down, Cillian.”
“I don’t care if you helped Aiden and Charlie, you are not taking my sister anywhere.”
That was rich coming from the man who was currently married to Dmitri’s half sister. Since Dmitri valued his time with Hadley—and Olivia by proxy—he couldn’t draw the gun he had nestled in the shoulder holster beneath his jacket. Not to mention that Cillian showed every evidence of being a good man and had been a positive influence on both Olivia and Hadley. Shooting him would be a damn shame.
Fortunately, Cillian had already gift-wrapped for Dmitri the key to his undoing.
He kept his hand lightly resting on Keira’s back, a physical reminder to her to not to move too quickly. He didn’t want her fool brother to pull the trigger by accident. Dmitri turned his attention to Cillian. “Do you remember when we called a cease-fire?”
The man glared. “You mean when you extorted that promise from Olivia that granted you access to Hadley? Yeah, I remember.”
“There was another promise made that day.” He didn’t wait for the man to work it out. “You owe me a favor, Cillian O’Malley.”
“The fuck I do.”
Is there no honor left in this world? He bit back his irritation. “Break your word and our deal is null and void.”
Cillian hesitated, clearly torn between the woman he loved and his youngest sister. Dmitri couldn’t be sure which way Cillian would fall at the end of the internal struggle he was currently engaged in, and that aggravated him almost as much as the man threatening to break his word.
Keira put her hand on Dmitri’s chest and stepped forward a little. “Cillian, please. Just let me go. I’m choosing this. I’ll be okay. I promise.”
Cillian relaxed, partially lowering the gun, and Dmitri almost rolled his eyes. She was lying through her teeth. She hadn’t been okay in a very long time, as best he could tell. But if her brothers hadn’t stepped in before now, there was no reason to expect they’d step in today.
The gun inched lower, finally aiming safely at the concrete at Cillian’s feet. “Aiden is going to come after you, Keira. You know that.”
“He promised to respect my choice.” Her voice was low and fierce. “If he pulls the same shit Teague pulled with Sloan, I’ll shoot him myself.”
Cillian’s gaze flicked to where her hand was still on Dmitri’s chest. “That was a different situation.”
“No, it wasn’t.” She turned and walked away, now gripping his shirt to tow him after her. Dmitri allowed it, because if it looked like she was in control, it would assuage Cillian’s guilt and maybe he’d be quiet about what had occurred for a little while longer.
It wasn’t until they were in the backseat that Keira slouched against the leather and closed her eyes. “How long until we get to your place?”
“We’re not going to my place.” Not yet.
She opened one eye. “Then where are we going?”
“A chapel.”
* * *
Aiden couldn’t make himself let go of Charlie. He held her the entire car ride to the Russian’s home. He carried her up the stairs to the suite that was apparently theirs for the duration. The bed was luxurious to the point of ridiculousness, but he was more concerned with getting Charlie cleaned up so he could see the damage.
He turned to the man who’d met them when they arrived. “We’ll need medical supplies and something loose and comfortable for her to change into.” The man nodded, and Aiden shut and locked the bathroom door.
Only then did Charlie speak. “I can stand on my own.”
In more ways than one. “I know, bright eyes.” He helped her sit on the counter and carefully took stock. The blood had dried in many places, fusing the clothes to her skin. To get them off, they were going to have to reopen the wounds. “If we get these wet, they’ll be less likely to hurt you when we get them off.”
“And harder to get off.” She gave a halfhearted smirk. “That’s what she said.”
He pulled a knife from his boot and set to work cutting apart her clothes. It would make it easier to pull them away once he got her in the shower. “I’m sorry.”
“For what? Saving my life?” She rested her hands on his shoulders as he worked. Her passiveness and too-wide blue eyes read shock to him. The faster he got her cleaned, patched up, and in warm, dry clothes, the better.
“You wouldn’t have been in that warehouse if it wasn’t for me. I pulled you into this mess.”
“Because I’m John Finch’s daughter.”
He froze. He could lie to her. He could remind her of all the good things they’d shared that had nothing to do with whose children they were. But if he wanted a chance in hell of her staying, he couldn’t dodge this truth. “You’re right. I picked you because of who your father was and the fact you were burned by Romanov.”