Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 91064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
He takes my silence as an affirmative.
“If you don’t want him involved in this… if you don’t want to arouse suspicion of the syndicate by bringing heat down onto them, then you’ll need to stay away from him.”
And there it is.
My clarity.
This morning, things with Rory were so gray. Muddled and confused and uncertain. But Booker’s words make it very black and white. And I have to confront the very real feelings I’ve been trying so hard to deny.
I do care for Rory.
I’m in love with him.
And that’s as real as it’s ever going to get for me.
“Why would you do that?” I ask Booker. “Why would you warn me? If you know what they do…”
“I don’t believe Rory Brodrick is a bad man,” he says. “But the practices of criminal syndicates are generally the same the world over. If they catch you talking to the feds, what do you think would happen?”
I know what would happen.
Rory wouldn’t hurt me. But Lachlan? I’m not so sure. I’m Mack’s friend, but if he had to choose between protecting his family or me, he’s always going to choose his family.
“He’s a good man,” I tell Booker. “Rory would never hurt me.”
“I know,” he says. “I’ve seen you together.”
The rest of my words fail me, but Booker understands perfectly.
“And you won’t hurt him either.”
He’s right.
I can’t bring him into this mess. Any further than he already is. I can’t risk his life, or his relationship with the syndicate.
I need him to hate me. It’s the only way he will let me go. He said so himself. That he would go to battle for me. That he won’t ever give up.
I close my eyes, and a shudder racks my body.
I’m going to fall on my sword for him. To protect him. And to love him in the only way I can. By keeping him as far away from me as possible.
Giving him a real shot at happiness. With someone who deserves it.
Booker is waiting for me when I open my eyes. Waiting for the words he already knew were coming.
“I’ll need your help.”
Thirty-One
Rory
It’s late, and most of the lads have cleared out of the gym, but Conor lingers behind. He’s itching to get back to Ivy, but I make him spar with me, anyway.
When the door opens, and it’s Scarlett, Conor gives an audible sigh of relief.
I never know what I’m going to get with her.
After what happened earlier, I half expected she’d disappear on me again. But here she is, looking soft and sweet and… something else.
I can’t figure out what it is.
Resigned, maybe.
Sad?
I don’t know.
She walks up and grabs me around the waist, pulling me against her.
“Get lost, Conor,” she says.
“Fuck off,” is his reply.
“Conor.”
His gaze snaps to me, and it seems the lad has finally grown some balls.
“Get lost,” I tell him.
He does.
The gym smells of blood and sweat and her perfume, and I’ve got a hard on for it before she even starts tearing at my clothes.
We don’t say a word to each other.
It’s just raw, primal fucking on the floor like the animals we are. Scarlett rides me and then I flip her onto her hands and knees, taking her from behind while I pull on her hair and demand that she takes my cock all night long.
Half of the things coming out of my mouth don’t make any bleeding sense, even to my own ears. But it doesn’t matter.
All that matters is that she knows.
She isn’t getting away from me. She can’t push me away. I won’t fucking let her.
I come inside of her twice before we finally collapse. Naked and panting for breath, and still I can’t let her go. My arm is wrapped around her back, her face resting against my chest.
“You really are a beast in the ring,” she says.
“Did ye ever question that I wasn’t?”
“No.” She smiles up at me. “You’ve got it all, Rory Brodrick. The looks, the charm, the body of a god and the dimples of one too.”
It’s the only compliment she’s ever given me, and the man in me is beating his chest. But I still can’t stop myself from asking.
“What changed? I thought ye were dead set on murdering me earlier.”
“Nothing’s changed,” she says and her voice is too light and I don’t believe her. “Let’s call it a temporary truce. Sometimes, you just need a reminder of how good of a thing you’ve got before it’s gone.”
Her words are a threat, but they sound like a joke. Again, with Scarlett, it’s hard to tell.
“Give me their names,” I insist. “I’ll make it right, baby doll. I’ll bleed them dry and make them suffer for their sins, and when I’m done, you can fuck me into oblivion.”
Her smile is sad this time, haunted.
“You really would,” she says. “Wouldn’t you?”
“I meant what I said. I’ll always go to war for you, Satan.”