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)
Conan tries again, this time from a different angle. “He could ruin it all.”
“He won’t.”
“He could.”
“Fuck. I know. You don’t think I know that?” I tried so hard to do it. When I brought him to the woods—hell, up until the second I turned and snuck away—I’d thought I would do it. I was supposed to, and the fact that I couldn’t shows a huge fucking weakness that I’m not supposed to have. But he just knelt there, waiting for me to take his life, sacrificing himself. Not even trying to get away.
All I could think about was the taste of him, how it felt to be inside of him, the loneliness we both carry even when we’re in a room filled with people. I feel him in a way I’ve never felt anyone else, and I still don’t know what to do with that.
“He won’t,” I finally say again. “At least not you, Cillian, or anyone else. He wouldn’t do that.”
“Oh, so we’re just supposed to sacrifice you? Let him roam the streets until he decides the dick he got wasn’t enough to keep this secret, and he tells them everything he knows about you?”
I roll my eyes. “Like the cops don’t already know everything we do.”
“Yes, but we’re not supposed to make it easier for them to put us away.”
Jesus, every single thing I’ve done since seeing Abbott is fucked up. I’m not acting like myself, yet I don’t know how to stop it. All I know is if anyone lays a hand on him, I will kill them myself.
“Rian,” Conan says as I sit down on the couch. He sighs, walks over, and takes the cushion beside me. “Bring him home with you. At least we can keep an eye on him better.”
“So, instead of being locked away in New Hampshire, I do the same thing here?”
“If you’re determined to keep him, yes. It’s the safest way.”
He’s right, but I also can’t do that to him. I can’t force Abbott to come here, to be with me, and what, leave everything else behind? This lifestyle would only hurt him the same way it had Moira. She stayed because she loved me, she wanted to help take care of the kids, and Fia was her best friend. She stayed for us, but she sacrificed things she thought were right or wrong.
“You haven’t been like this with anyone. Not since Moira,” Conan says, as though I don’t know it.
“Part of me feels guilty…like I should never want anyone again, but it’s clearly not guilty enough for me to stop.”
“She would want this for you. If he’s worthy of you, she would want it. I don’t trust him though, and I’m afraid of you getting hurt.”
“We can trust him,” I say, hoping, praying for the first time in too long, that I’m right.
“If we can’t…you know what has to be done. I don’t care if you kill me for it afterward.”
That is why I’ll always trust Conan. He’s honest, even when he’s being brutal. The only time he’s ever lied to me was about Sloan, and that was for Fia.
And the truth is, he’s right. “I won’t let him hurt Cillian.” My son will always come first.
“I know,” Conan replies.
I rub my forehead, then sit back, ignoring the ache in my shoulder. “I want those brothers dead, Conan. Why can’t we find them? I thought we were close.”
“I thought we were too,” he says. “We’ll get it done, though. I promise you. And it’s good that you’re back. We want to make sure everyone in Boston knows that Rian O’Shea doesn’t run.”
No. No, he fucking doesn’t. “I’m in the mood for a little carnage,” I say. Maybe that’s what I need. Maybe getting back to my life will help me get over Abbott and whatever it is he’s done to me.
Conan smiles. “Now you sound like Rory.”
I chuckle. “Well, he is like a son to me.”
Conan laughs too. It feels good to be back here, with him. Yes. Getting into my life again will make everything easier. I won’t want Abbott anymore, and next time, if it comes down to it, I’ll be able to do what needs to be done.
“I need to go to Paradise.” Conan stands. “I’m going to be watching him. You know that, right, Rian? I won’t move on him because I respect you too much as a boss and a friend, but I’m watching him, and I don’t trust him.”
I can’t stop my hands from tightening into fists again. Hearing anyone, even my friend, say he doesn’t trust Abbott and knowing that he’ll move on him if he thinks he needs to, makes all my protective instincts flare to life—makes me want to eliminate the threat. But the threat is someone I love and someone who I logically know is doing the right thing. My head is a fucking mess, and I don’t like it.