Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 90919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
I nodded.
“Didn’t mean for it,” Richie wheezed. “Just money. Didn’t know.”
My head snapped toward him. “You didn’t know what?”
“Julian,” he replied. “Didn’t know.”
“You know Julian?” I asked quietly.
“Julian,” he said, nodding as he dropped his head back from the pillow. “Aisling?”
“She’s fine,” I repeated.
“Aisling,” he whispered brokenly.
“How do you know Julian, Richie?” I snapped. I didn’t understand what he was trying to say, but I had a really bad feeling.
Saoirse shot me a look, and I nodded and cleared my throat.
“How do you know him?” I asked, the strain in my voice barely noticeable.
“Worked for him,” Richie said, his words so quiet that I had to lean closer. “Just a little while.”
“You worked for Julian Kitz?” I jerked back in disbelief.
“Not long.” He opened his eyes again and looked at me and then Saoirse. “Aisling?”
I stared at him.
“She’s fine,” Saoirse said, rubbing her hand along Richie’s forearm. “She’s at home with Aoife.”
“What have you been doing for Julian Kitz?” I asked, my heart pounding.
“Side jobs,” Richie replied. “Remodel. Clean money.”
It took me a moment to piece it together. “You were cleaning his money.”
Richie nodded, his breathing labored. “Not long. Few months.”
“Jesus Christ, Richie,” I muttered, leaning back in disgust. He didn’t have to say anything else. I knew how to read between these particular lines.
How could he have been so goddamn stupid?
“I don’t—” Saoirse said, looking between us in confusion. “He was doing what?”
“Go out and meet Aoife,” I ordered.
“I’m not leaving.”
“Saoirse,” I snapped.
“Not happening.”
The argument ended when our big sister burst into the room, so filled with relief that her feet barely touched the ground as she rushed to Richie.
“You’re awake,” she whispered, reaching for his face. “Thank the good Lord. Oh, god. You’re awake.”
Richie opened his mouth, and by the expression on his face, I knew what he was going to say. I couldn’t watch it.
Without a word, I left the room.
Aoife’s faith in Richie was unshakable. She’d adored him since they were kids, and he’d always returned the favor. I wasn’t sure that I could see that faith smashed to pieces without smashing something else to pieces. Anything else.
When I reached the waiting room, Will was on his feet, his expression grim.
Bas, Frankie, Lou, and Myla looked like they’d just come off the elevator. They had Titus and Noel with them.
I didn’t want to talk to any of them. The rage flowing through my veins felt like a living thing, and I wasn’t sure how long I could carry it before I detonated.
“Wanker,” Will said in warning as I strode forward.
I ignored him.
“Baby,” Myla whispered, her eyes filled with concern. She’d never called me that before.
Without acknowledging anyone else, I grabbed her by the hand and tugged her with me as I kept walking.
“Cian,” Titus snapped.
“It’s fine,” Myla called over her shoulder. “We’ll be right back.”
“Not a good idea,” Bas muttered from behind me. I felt him start toward us, but I’d already reached the door to the bathroom and thrown it wide.
It was a single, and the door had a lock, and before Bas was anywhere close, I’d thrown it shut again and flipped the lock.
I couldn’t get enough air. It felt like I was choking.
“Hey,” Myla said, immediately getting into my space. Her hands came to my face, cupping my cheeks as she forced my head down. “Hey, breathe.”
“Fuck,” I muttered.
“You’re good,” she soothed. “You’re good. Take a deep breath.”
“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him,” I choked out.
“The guy who hurt Aisling?” she asked gently, her thumbs brushing back and forth on my cheeks. “I figured you already had.”
“Richie.” I leaned away from her hands and shoved my hair out of my face. “I love him and I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him.”
“What?” she asked, her eyebrows drawing together in shock.
“Cian, open the door,” Bas called, pounding on the door.
“He fucked up, My.” I shook my head as I took a step away from her. “He fucked up so bad. None of ’em are safe. Goddamn it.”
My fist hit the wall with a deep thump, not even denting whatever the hell they’d used.
“Shit, Cian,” Myla blurted, reaching for me. “Did you just break your freaking hand?”
“Motherfucker, open this door now,” Titus ordered, slamming against it.
“We’re fine,” Myla called back. “Get away from the door!”
“It’s not broken,” I muttered, shaking out my hand. I needed to pace. I needed to move. But there was no room in that bathroom, and the moment I stepped outside, there was going to be a whole group of people outside wanting me to explain what the fuck was going on. I didn’t want to see them. I didn’t want to be where I was. I wanted to be far the fuck away from there, clueless to how the most important father figure I’d ever known had fucked over his family so spectacularly.
“Baby, stop,” Myla said, catching me as I turned toward the mirror. “Stop. Look at me.”