Page 72 of Irish Fury
We made you stay still.
Froze your body like a broken elevator.
I bet your ass blood and his spit were the perfect HIV incubator, wasn’t it slut?
Did you know that happened—that someone took you there?
Hannah clenched her jaw and kept her eyes closed. Appearing weak would not help her cause. Of course, she’d known that she’d been hurt. She’d been sore for days, which was probably when her body had enjoyed incubating the disease—if that’s what she had.
Her health was in the shitter. Add her current problem to the already declining state of her body, and her diminishing funds…she was well and truly fucked. Her family would jump ship if she faltered worse than she already had.
She needed to prove that she still had something they found amusing or worth their time. Violence and blood would prevail.
As the Americans so liked to shout from the tallest building, “Fuck around and find out.” The voices would find out she still was worth their time. Hannah Todd or Hannah Keels, rather, still had some life left in her.
The nurse breezed in holding a piece of paper. “Test results are positive, I’m afraid.”
Fuck my life.
Fuck our lives.
Fuck this diseased bitch.
“I’m not done yet,” she whispered.
forty
MAGS
“I gottwo more of my pieces delivered to clients this afternoon. I’m not gonna lie, making money for my embroidery will never get old,” Mags told Jonathan, who was on speaker phone as she dashed around her bathroom getting dolled up for the Chamber event at Gray Eyes that evening.
“You deserve the success. You work so hard, and you’re so talented. I’m proud of you,” Jonathan told her.
Mags glanced at herself in the mirror, seeing the soft look in her eyes. She was so far gone for that man.
“You earned a kiss for that,” she teased.
He snorted before coming back with, “I don’t have to earn your affection. You want my mouth and a whole lot more than that, touching you every chance you can.”
“Which is why I’m glad you aren’t here while I’m getting dressed. I want to look stunning without the orgasm afterglow.”
“Why? It’s your best look. Hang on, Dan’s yelling for me.”
Mags heard muted voices and laughter before Jonathan resumed the call. “I’m back. He needed my signature on a couple of documents from our meeting earlier today. Now, where werewe? Oh, right, we were discussing all the orgasms I’m going to give you later. Ouch,” Jonathan barked.
“What happened?”
“Daniel hit me and told me to get out of his room, the prick. Just because he’s celibate doesn't mean I am.”
“Speaking of, Ciar might be joining the celibate club, just not by choice,” Mags chuckled.
“Do tell. I love nothing more than gossip about that big, Russian ass.”
“Ciar’s just as much Irish as Russian,” Mags defended.
“Yeah, but he gets all his prickish ways from his Russian side. I’m all Irish and don’t act anything like him,” Jonathan sniffed over the phone like a priss.
“Need I remind you that you are actually three-quarters American, and your arrogant pride proves it. Blair and I are one hundred percent Scottish, and you don’t see us yammering on about it.”
