Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 104802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
“Because you wouldn’t attack an old man? That makes you better?”
“I never said I was better. I told you, I know who I am. Get some fucking sleep, Kitten. You look like shit.”
I feel like it, but still, I flip him off. “Don’t call me that.”
“Why? It’s what you are. Rory said you’re our brave little bunny, but you’re not. You’ve got some sharp claws, and you know how to use them. It’s my favorite thing about you.” And then he winks, and damned if heat doesn’t flush to my groin.
I don’t want him, I don’t want him, I don’t want him.
He’s supposed to be everything I hate in this world. He stands for everything I hate…yet I can’t hate him.
“I’m not your anything,” I say.
He shrugs. “Whatever you say, Kitten.”
I don’t have the energy to argue with him, and luckily, the nurse comes in, ready to medicate me, as if she obeys everything Cillian says too…and she didn’t even have to hear him say it to know he wanted her to do it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Cillian
As soon as Ollie is medicated and sleeping, I pull out my cell and send a text to the group chat with Rory, Tiernan, and Dean.
They gave him pain meds, and he’s passed out. I stayed when he talked to the cops. The whole thing happened over a fucking car…but the way they said it, I feel like there’s something there. I’ll message Conan to see what he can dig up for us.
Conan has his hand in a little bit of everything. While he’s the face of Paradise, he’s also the one who handles the cops we have on payroll—the ones who bend the rules for us and get us the information we need.
Tiernan: Let me know what you find out, and we’ll take it from there.
Dean: He doing okay?
Me: Will do. And yeah, he’s good. He definitely thinks I’m an asshole. I don’t know why that’s so fucking cute.
Rory: You totally want to fuck this kid.
Me: Maybe.
Dean: Keep your dick to yourself. You hurt him, I hurt you.
Me: I’m not going to hurt him, and fuck off. The only reason I’ve let you get away with what I have is because of T.
Tiernan: Can everyone shut the fuck up and either go to bed or handle business?
Rory: And let me guess, your business is your naked boyfriend in bed beside you? Also, I’m hungry.
I chuckle at his randomness.
Tiernan: Exactly. Now leave us alone. Check in later, Cil.
Rory: Take care of our pet.
Dean: He said shut up.
Apparently, Dean is over this conversation too. He’s got a shorter fuse on his bullshit meter than even Tiernan does.
Next I text Conan, telling him what happened tonight, all the information I know, and asking him to do his thing. Conan is good at replying almost instantly, letting me know he’ll see what he can do.
The chair is hard against my back and beneath my ass, but I do the best I can to get comfortable. The nurse dimmed the lights in the room when she left, but there’s enough of a glow from the window and all the machines that I can see Ollie’s face clearly. My breaths get shallow, my hands tightening into fists.
His broken glasses have been removed, the bruising on his face looking even angrier than it did earlier, swollen and purple. His jaw looks tight, unrelaxed in sleep. Because of me or the situation? I have to believe it’s the latter.
It’s strange, this unfamiliar draw to him. It’s because he’s different from anyone I know. No one in my life has that strong belief in what’s right over what’s wrong. How fucking can we? Everything we do is on the wrong side of the law, even when we’re doing it for the right reasons. So much of my life is about indulgence—sex, money, pleasure, hell, even violence—and he’s so fucking…simple. Dean was like that in a way when we first met him, but you could sense the desire in him for more, and he never cared about the things we do. He was drawn to them, while Ollie struggles with them.
It’s clear he doesn’t have much—being here without a vehicle, choosing to walk home rather than ask for a ride or take a ride share. I can understand that need for independence, though there’s not a chance I’m letting him walk home like that again.
Had he ever seen the ugliness of the world—of my world—until he stumbled into it tonight? This guy who probably never hurt anyone or anything in his life, who would have taken on Tiernan for Dean and took on three men tonight for a perfect stranger.
I lean forward, bend closer to him, let my fingers dance along his bruised and scratched-up hand.
I love that he fought back but wish he hadn’t had to. We need to teach him to take care of himself. If I have anything to say about it, he won’t ever be put in this kind of situation again, but if he is, I damn sure want him to come out on top.