Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 105065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 525(@200wpm)___ 420(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 525(@200wpm)___ 420(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
“I wouldn’t know.” He slams the book in his hands shut and walks over to the window.
I know I’ve struck a nerve and I’m on thin ice probably, but I see an opportunity here. One that might help Sasha without betraying her trust.
“It’s just too bad,” I say, picking at my nail absently.
I wait a couple breaths for Ronan to take the bait, and surprisingly, he does.
“What is?”
“That Donovan is all up in her business all the time. He’s such a fricken’ creep.”
“Is he bothering her?” Ronan asks and then clears his throat like he shouldn’t have.
“I don’t know for sure,” I lie. “But it looks that way to me. He’s always following her around and trying to get her into dark corners if you know what I mean.”
Ronan visibly flinches from my observation as he stares out the window.
“Maybe I should call her,” I hedge. “See if she wants to come over. She might need some company…”
“No,” Ronan snaps.
“Alrighty then,” I smirk.
He turns around and shoots me a deadly scowl. “Ye open your gob about this to anyone and ye can forget anymore donut runs.”
“Ah, well played Ronan,” I chuckle. “Well played.”
***
Just after midnight, the front door slams open while I’m sitting on the sofa painting my nails. I’ve been bored out of my mind and Ronan’s broody company has done little to improve that. I glance up to find Lachlan standing in the kitchen. He looks at Ronan and then to me, some kind of dark and scary energy rolling off of him. It’s not an expression I’m familiar with on him.
I know that Lach’s a dangerous man. I’m aware of the sort of things he deals in. And yet, he’s always been a little bit mysterious… quiet… ominous, but in a calm way. I’ve seen a few different sides of him so far, but never anything like this. I don’t miss the fact that his jacket is gone and his shirt is covered in blood. Over it he’s wearing a shoulder holster that I’ve never seen him wear, and something tells me he put that to a lot of use tonight.
Before I even get a chance to say something, he stalks down the hall and into the bathroom. The pipes in the house creak when he turns on the shower, and I bite my lip as I shoot Ronan a questioning glance. Of course, he just ignores me, but the tension in his own body is obvious.
I tiptoe down the hall and lean against the bathroom door. I have the strangest urge to… I don’t know, comfort Lachlan. It’s a very foreign feeling for me, I’ll tell you that much. I don’t deal with this kind of shit. The only people’s feelings that ever mattered to me were Talia and Scarlett. That’s how my dad raised me, and even then, he probably wouldn’t have approved of our close bond. He always said friends are nice, but they’re also a weakness. How right he was.
So why do I feel bad that Lachlan’s had a rough night? Beats the hell out of me.
I press my ear to the door and hear nothing but the flow of water. Steam is billowing out from beneath the crack, and I can almost imagine Lachlan in there beneath the scalding hot spray. I want to know what he’s feeling right now. Does he have those pesky emotions that I hate so much? Beneath his mobster exterior, is there still a conscience? I want to go to him, and I hate that. What the hell would I do?
I reach down and stroke my fingers over my necklace, trying to remember the reason why I’m here. I feel like I’m betraying Talia for even considering any of these thoughts. I’m no closer to finding her than I was when I started all of this. And now I’m sitting here, actually questioning my feelings for Lachlan.
I groan and press my forehead to the door, only to be scared a moment later when I catch someone standing beside me.
“Jesus, Ronan,” I hiss. “Make a noise, will you?”
He shrugs. “Force a’ habit. You best leave him be for a while.”
I glance at the door and back to him. “Why?”
“He’s not in a good place right now, Mack. We lost one of our own tonight.”
“Who?” I ask.
“His name was Johnny. The lad was just a kid.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, and I mean it. “What happened?”
“They got him when he was leaving the pub,” Ronan says. “He didn’t have a fighting chance.”
I try to force away the sympathy I feel, knowing I probably shouldn’t. But it’s still hard to think about. Looking at Ronan, and seeing how torn up Lachlan was, it’s obvious these guys do care about each other. Just like Tal and I did. I understand that bond. I get it, and that’s the worst part. It makes me relate to them on some level. It makes them a little bit more human to me, which I don’t want or need.
Ronan’s right. The best thing I can do… for Lachlan and myself… is to leave him alone. I give the door one last glance and nod before I walk back down the hall. He’s probably right. And it saves me from having to think about any of this.
***
By one am, Ronan is passed out in his chair and I’m biting my fingernails. Lach still hasn’t made an appearance. And I know what Ronan said, but I’ve never been very good at following orders.
I decide I’m just going to check on him to sate my curiosity. That’s all.
I wander down the hall and push open the cracked door to his bedroom. I find him in a chair in the corner, bottle of whiskey and a first aid kit on the table beside him. He’s leaning forward, head in hands, in nothing but a pair of jeans. For a moment, I just remain still to take in his profile.
He really is beautiful. The darkness surrounding him and the obvious emotion on his face only makes him more so. I never wanted to see him as a person, but looking at him like this now, it’s impossible not to.