Page 83 of Fighting for Irish
Relief trickled through her just as a sense of dread began worming its way to her stomach.
“The bad news is,” Vinnie finished as his partner used the key card to open the door to her room, “we’ve already involved your boy some more.”
Sully entered first. His tall frame prevented her from seeing anything until the door slammed shut behind her and he moved off to the side.
“Oh my God, what have you bastards done to him?” She tried lunging for Irish but the men held her back while she struggled to break free.
Irish sat on the bed, his body slumped forward as much as his outstretched arms allowed with his wrists cuffed to the bed posts. His bare torso was covered in red where it was obvious he’d been beaten—drenched in sweat and marked with bleeding cuts. She knew that whatever they’d done he’d fought them the whole way. It’s who he was. He was a fighter. Her fighter.
My fighting Irish.He lifted his head from his chest and her breath left her. His right eye was swollen shut and his lower lip had been split open again. A torn piece of the bedsheet worked as a gag. It was more than she could stand. “Let me go!”
“It’s all right, boys.”
She heard the third voice come from the corner of the room, but she didn’t spare it a thought. The moment she felt her freedom she raced across the room and leapt onto the bed. Irish hissed from the jostling. “I’m sorry, baby,” she whispered, gingerly crawling the rest of the way to him. Kneeling before him, she pulled the gag from his mouth and held his face in her hands. “Jesus Christ, I’m so sorry.”
“Did either of those motherfuckers touch you?” His voice was hoarse but no less deadly. The animal he claimed lived inside of him was starting to surface. Muscles bunched and released and he looked ready to walk through hell if he had to.
“No, I’m fine.” Every cut, every drop of blood, every bruise they’d given him was because of her, and still the man’s first concern was if she’d been harmed. It was too much. Tears fell unbidden, blurring her vision and frustrating the hell out of her. As terrible as he looked, she didn’t want anything preventing her from seeing him clearly. “God, look what they’ve done to you.”
“Don’t worry about me,” he said. “I feel much worse than I look. No, wait.” His brow furrowed in concentration before he added, “I mean I look much worse than I feel.”
Something between a sob and a laugh burst from her as she smoothed back the sweat-plastered hair from his forehead. “Now I know you’re hurt bad. You can’t even be sarcastic right.”
“Nah. I’m golden,” he said with a weak grin. “Just so long as I know you’re okay.”
Holding his face, Kat pressed her lips to his. She couldn’t help it. She was desperate for the connection and to reassure him of her love. It probably hurt his cut, but he leaned into the kiss anyway, seemingly just as desperate.
“All right,” she heard from behind her. “That’s enough. It’s time to get down to business.”
Looking over her shoulder, Kat found the unidentified third man sitting in the wingback chair in front of the desk. Dressed in a charcoal gray suit with red tie, he sat with one ankle resting on the other knee and hands steepled in front of him. He looked like a therapist listening to a patient as opposed to what he really was, someone who’d obviously at the very least watched a man get handcuffed and beaten.
“Who the hell are you?”
A deceptively charming smile spread over his face. “I’m the man who is here to make sure your debt is collected and the hassles you’ve caused are well compensated for.”
Kat was so sick of hearing about the debt she supposedly owed to some asshole wannabe Godfather. Sick of dealing with the hired thugs he kept sending after her to make her life a living goddamn hell. It was bad enough when they’d threatened her pathetic existence back in Tennessee. But now she had a man who made her life a fairy tale in comparison to what it was before. Someone to live for and love. And she’d be damned if she was going to let them take it away from her without a fight.
Climbing off the bed, she stood with fists on her hips. “And what makes you think you’ll do any better than those two?”
“Because, my dear, I’ve decided to subscribe to the old saying, ‘If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.’”
Chills raced over her scalp and down her spine as her arms fell limp by her sides. The proverbial monster had stepped out of the closet. “Antony Sicoli,” she whispered.
“The one and only.”
…
Aiden vibrated with fury. He’d been careless and now Kat was in the middle of an extremely volatile situation. All he had to do was keep her safe until he could figure out how to put an end to everything. But he hadn’t even been able to do that. He’d let how he felt for her cloud his judgment.
Maybe alcohol hadn’t been his problem all those years ago with Janey. Maybe he just didn’t have the ability to think clearly when his emotions were involved. How fucking ironic was that? The more he cared for someone, the less he kept her safe. But when it came down to it, the reason why didn’t matter. All that mattered was that people close to him always got hurt. And this was no exception.
Sicoli hadn’t yet divulged his plans—he’d been a little preoccupied with beating the living shit out of him—but Aiden had a pretty good idea of some possibilities. And none of them were good.
When he’d woken up to Sully and Vinnie cuffing and gagging him, he’d been so relieved that Kat hadn’t been in the room. He’d had hope that she’d stay gone long enough for Sicoli and his goons to make their threats or do to him whatever they had planned and then leave before she returned.
But then Sicoli ordered his men to go find her and, for the first time, Aiden prayed like hell that Kat had finally gotten smart enough to leave him. That she’d taken the keys to the Nova and skipped out on him and never looked back.
Unfortunately for her, she’d only gone down for some breakfast. And here he was, failing to do the only thing he’d wanted to do since he’d discovered Kat was in trouble: protect her.
