Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 103141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
“Do you see what happens when you try to come for me?” I ask, walking in a slow circle around them.
“Didn’t…do…it…” Pete says.
“Can’t even admit to it now? Fucking weak,” Flynn says.
“Doc…” Frankie grits out, and my back stiffens like someone shoved a metal rod down my spine.
“What did you say?” I ask, his head dropping as he starts to pass out again. “What the fuck did you say?” I shake him.
“The doc,” Donny says for him. “Word…on the street…someone looking to have him killed…”
I turn and look at Conan, who’s paying really close fucking attention, moving toward us.
“Why?” I ask.
“Don’t know,” Pete mumbles. “Not us.”
“Why were you in hiding?” Conan asks.
“Heard you were looking for us…didn’t want to take chances.” This is from Donny.
I’m surprised when Frankie lifts his head and gives a slow smile, mouth bloody and gummy. “We would have gotten…the job done…if it had been us…would have killed the doc…then did you just for fun.”
All I see is red. It’s like I’m not even in my body anymore, like the whole thing is burning up from the inside out. My brain shuts off, all logical thought gone as I rip my gun from the holster, spraying their bodies with bullets, watching their brains splatter from the backs of their heads.
It wasn’t them? The hit wasn’t on me?
That’s him, but who the hell is the other guy? That’s what they’d said. I assumed it meant they wondered who Abbott was, not me.
The brothers could have been lying…but they weren’t, somehow I know they weren’t. It felt…messy, different. Not what I would have expected. Plus, whoever it was would have had to follow me to the hospital that day, which is obviously a possibility, but so is the fact that they were waiting for Abbott to get off work…in the same row where his vehicle was, as if they’d been staking it out.
Nowhere near my car…
“Fuck!” I shove my gun back into the holster and grab my jacket.
“Should you clean up before you go wherever you’re going?” Flynn asks.
“Who is the doc?” Torin adds.
When we were in bed together, he said he felt like people were watching him. He thought it was me. I just believed it was his imagination. What if it wasn’t?
“Have you been to his place since he’s been home? Followed him anywhere?”
“No,” Conan answers.
“Motherfucker!” None of this has been about me. It was about Abbott all along.
Someone wants Abbott to die.
“I’m going to get him,” I say.
“Need me to come?” Conan asks.
“No. I want you to find out who the fuck wants him dead, though.” I turn to the others. “Clean this mess up for me. Get rid of the bodies.”
“You got it, man.” Finan’s looking back and forth between me and Conan like he’s trying to put the pieces together on what’s going on.
“I’m bringing him home,” I tell Conan. “He’s under my protection now.”
Without another word, I run for the door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Abbott
“Abbott! Get up!”
I jolt up in bed at the sound of Rian’s voice in the dark. I was in a deep sleep, my head now foggy as I try to squint to see in the dark and sort through whether I imagined Rian’s voice or not.
The room brightens with the glow of the light, making my eyes burn, and there he is, coming through my bedroom doorway—hair messy, looking ragged, splatters of red on his white, button-up shirt.
“Are you hurt? What happened? You’re bleeding.” I scramble out of bed, head clear now. Once my brain clicks into emergency mode, I’m no longer tired and sluggish. I’ve needed to be able to do that in my career, and my body knows how to flip that switch by now.
He stills, looks down at himself—at the blood on his shirt, his bruised and swollen hands…and the dried blood there too. When our eyes meet again, I know what his are telling me.
That’s not his blood.
Rian isn’t hurt.
Rian hurt someone else.
“Oh, Rian. What did you do?” I ask, not moving close to him but not walking away either. He’s not here to hurt me. I don’t believe he will ever hurt me, if I’m being honest. Not unless I threatened Cillian’s safety. I don’t even believe he would hurt me for himself anymore.
Because he cares. Because in some way, even if it’s not the same way I feel, Rian does care about me.
“I did what I do. Pack some shit. You’re coming with me.” He moves toward my closet as if he owns the place, but then, he sneaks in freely too, so I don’t know why I act surprised.
“I’m fairly certain you don’t control me. You don’t get to break into my house in the middle of the night—bloody, I might add—and demand I leave with you.” Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with him?