DESPITE ARRIVING LATE at The Chronicler office, she was wiped by the middle of the afternoon. A little thing like tiredness wouldn’t get in her way. She took more meds and soldiered on. Daly was nearby, watching her. Watching. Watching. Any hint of weakness, or clue she needed help would be reported back to his boss. Connel was one person she didn’t want showing up anywhere near her life.
Her eyes were closing, her head drifting, her concentration had been gone for over an hour. What time was it? Catching her head on another drop, she blinked at the wall clock. Six thirty. Yeah, that was it, she was done.
She should call Strat and—
“Ser?”
Daly stood behind her shoulder. Had he noticed—he held out a phone. Her phone. Connected to… someone.
Taking it from him, sidelining questions about where he found it, she put it to her ear. “Hello?”
Daly was already walking away.
“Sersha?”
“Conn, whatever—”
“You wanna see him?”
“See… who?”
“The scum who put his hands on you without permission.”
Her chin rose; exhaustion vanished in a flash. “You have him?” she breathed out.
“Want me to finish it fast…? Please don’t ask me to finish it fast.”
She surged to her feet. “Where are you?”
“Daly will bring you.”
“We’re on our way.”
She hung up and turned.
Daly strode over. “We going?”
“We’re going,” she said, shutting her computer down. “Fast.”
“You got it.”
They were downstairs and in the car within a minute. She didn’t know where they were going or what was at the other end, other than Connel and her attacker.
Why was she going?
Yanking the liquor from its slot, she held it between her legs to pull out the stopper. Forgoing the glass, she drank from the bottle. Sure, her splinted arm didn’t help, but she didn’t care about decorum. Who was there to see her anyway?
How would she look into the eyes of the man who’d wanted to rape her? Blond guy was dead. Finished. This other guy… She could call Lachlan. That would be the responsible thing to do. Her brother could have the perpetrator arrested. He’d gather evidence, they’d go to court… She gulped more liquor. What would prison time mean for this guy? More connections, more skills. He’d come out to a Manzani hero’s welcome.
She swallowed. What was she capable of? What did Connel want her to do? Anything? Nothing? Witness her attacker’s death?
All she knew was she had to get there. She had to be there.
Stag. Before they even stopped, three guys in black came to the curb, waiting to open her door to usher her out. Daly stayed with her as they went inside, past the stairs, into the club and around to the back of the bar. Behind the wall of optics and colored bottles, a wide passage narrowed to a single door. They went through that, took a turn, another door and down. Down into the darkness. Into a large square hall with doors leading off it.
The guys closed around behind her, guiding her to the middle of the space. A door to the side opened and Connel joined them, giving his guys a discreet signal to leave, which they all did. Some went back the way she’d come, others went through the door Connel appeared from.
“You know what happens down here,” he said, coming close enough to cup her face. She nodded. “You can walk out of here any minute, any second. You don’t have to be here for this.”
“I want to be,” she whispered, stepping in to rest against him, laying her palm on his chest. “I don’t know why, but I do.”
“Because he violated you,” he said, his brow creasing. “Because he touched what didn’t belong to him. Because he…”
His head snapped to the side.
“He didn’t rape me,” she murmured, sliding her hand up to his jaw to bring his attention back to her. “He didn’t. They checked.”
“He thought about it,” he snarled, bowing a fraction lower. “That gets him a death sentence in my house.”
“This doesn’t change things between us,” she said, stroking his stubble. “I meant every word I said last night.”
“It’s not about us,” he said, though his hand skimmed around to splay on her back, forcing her against him. “If you need this, you get this. I can kill him quick if that’s what you want. I’ll bring you his head. I’ll do it, Macushla.”
“I still don’t know what that means.”
And he didn’t enlighten her. “You remember what I said about rules here?”
“Rules don’t exist here.”
Those were his words.
“Anything,” he said, his eyes narrowing in certainty as they came closer. “Whatever you want to do, whatever you want done, it can happen here. You won’t be denied anything. No one will tell you to stop. No one will say no to you. As long as you’re in that room with me, you rule the McDades. You are our leader.”
“Don’t,” she said, her eyes drifting shut. Emotions were high and intoxicating adrenaline flooded through her. He was intoxicating. Somehow, their chemistry took over. She could feel him in every intimate nook like he was arousing her again. “I promised myself I’d be strong.” And that was turning out to be a pipedream. “Conn…”
“You are strong,” he said, his lips grazing her temple. “I am with you.”
Is that why she was strong? Did his power give her strength? Yes, it did. Had in the past. His fingers found their way between hers to guide her into a long, dark corridor. About halfway down, they paused at a door.
“Conn,” she whispered, tugging his hand before he could open it. “Is he… tied to something?”
For a second, he assessed her, then his brow came down again. “He won’t touch you. He won’t get anywhere near you. But, yeah, he’s strapped to a chair in the middle of the room… He’ll stay there until you say otherwise. You’re safe.” He turned to her again, jerking her chin up. “You’re always safe with me. Tell me. Where are you always safe?”
“With you,” she said. “I won’t let you down.”
Though she had no inkling of what would happen in the room beyond. He kissed her head and opened the door. She held her breath as they went inside.
She expected a dank cell. Yes, it was dark, but the room was clean. The floor was a paler gray than the walls. Men stood in each corner. Off to the side, a table bolted to the floor. The canvas over it concealed whatever was underneath.
But it was the man in the middle of the room, his ankles shackled to a metal seat, his hands behind his back, no doubt restrained somehow, that drew her keen focus. His head stooped, his whole body sagged forward.
Connel said something in his other tongue and the guy in the furthest corner came to stand behind the prisoner. No mistake, that was exactly what he was.
“Show respect!” Connel demanded.
The guy standing guard kicked the chair hard.
The prisoner snorted and raised his head. Bruised and bloodied, it was clear she wasn’t his first visitor. Her instinct when his eyes met hers was to step away. And there was Connel at her back, holding her up, his hand sliding onto her shoulder.
“This fucking bitch?” the prisoner spat.
The chair got kicked again. Somehow, he jolted, though the chair didn’t actually move.
“You didn’t know…?” Connel said, his voice dark and heavy. “You put your hands on my woman, Pietro.”
A flash of surprise crossed the prisoner’s face. “You—your woman?”
Another order came in Connel’s mother tongue and the guard grabbed the guy’s hair to yank his head back, exposing his throat.
Her inhale wavered when Connel wrapped an arm around her to hold her against him as he kissed her head. His strength was her foundation. The cornerstone of her stability. That power remained even when he slipped away to whip the canvas from one end of the table to the other. She didn’t look, just heard it and then he came into view between her and this Pietro, a blade in his hand. Curved and shining, the precision tip at the end of the eight inches of gleaming metal was terrifying.
“No, no,” the guy said, his head jerked back, harder, the strain of his voice came out in a whine before words. “I didn’t—I didn’t know! I didn’t!”
“Send them out of here,” she murmured. Connel stopped just a couple of feet from Pietro. “I don’t want anyone else here.”
Connel gave an order, and the four moved for the door. The one behind the chair threw the prisoner forward so hard only his restraints caught him.
Once the door was closed behind them, Pietro started again. “We didn’t know. How could we know?” The guy coughed, his body sagging forward again. “You killed Carl.”
“Aye,” Connel said without hesitation. “He begged too.”
The confession was unexpected. But this guy wasn’t leaving alive; it didn’t matter what they said to him. He’d never be free to utter the truth to anyone.
“You want power,” she said, her voice quiet. “You like exerting power… But you’re powerless. You’re powerless now. How does it feel?”
“If you’re gonna kill me, just do it.”
“You giving my lady orders?” Connel asked and lunged down, driving the blade into their prisoner’s thigh, wringing a howl of pain from strained lungs.
His sobs of pain didn’t reach her or rouse compassion. Connel’s fist tensed around the handle.
“Leave it,” she said before he could pull it out. As asked, he let go of the blade and backed off. “I’ll fucking show her…” The memory sent a shudder through her, but she suppressed it to walk closer. “You said, ‘where’s the fucker now…’ and ‘I’ll fucking show her,’ didn’t you?” So many details were foggy, but the crisp menace of his excitement was crystal clear. Crouching down just in front of him, her heart pounded, but she wasn’t afraid. “Look at him…” He didn’t move. “Look at Ire and tell him you challenged his authority.” Her voice was so calm, right until his lack of a response infuriated her. Grabbing the handle, she twisted it hard. “Look at him!”
She screamed over Pietro’s wail of agony. But she got his attention because he raised his head enough to find her gaze.
“Don’t fucking look at her!” Connel shouted, marching over to grab Pietro’s hair and force his head higher. “You look at me!” One swift punch followed another. “Obey her fucking orders!”
She got up in a twist to walk away and took a second before turning back to the men. “You thought you could follow him? That scum like you had the right to touch what was his? How in the hell could you possibly believe you’d ever be able to take from him?” Moving again, she went around behind them and kept on going in a stroll. “Challenge him now… Sneer at him the way you sneered at me… You want to taunt someone, taunt him.”
“I didn’t know,” Pietro wept. “I didn’t. Ire, I swear to you!”
Connel wrenched the knife from his victim’s thigh but offered no reprieve and immediately plunged it into his shoulder. Another howl of pain. Connel’s eyes rose over Pietro to find hers.
Was he worried about her being scared? Horrified? She should be. Some part of her would be. But this was perverse therapy. Taking her power back from one of the men who stole hers, it renewed her somehow.
“I don’t want to touch him,” she said.
“You don’t have to,” Connel said, straightening up. “Whatever you want, Macushla.”
In that moment, there was only one thing she wanted.
Avoiding the blood pooling on the floor beneath the chair, she went around to be met by Connel.
“Conn…” she breathed.
On a low growling laugh, he hooked an arm around her, yanking her against him. “That fucking voice.”
“He wanted to touch me,” she said, pushing her palm up his chest. “Think we should untie him and let him try again?”
The pride that lit his eye was almost amused. “Please gimme that order, baby.”
She smiled. “Maybe I should order you to fuck me instead. Let him watch how a real man pleasures his woman,” she said and accepted his mouth when he swooped down to kiss her.
She wasn’t sore. Wasn’t in any pain. He held her close, pressing himself to her, his arousal imprinting itself on her stomach.
His mouth trailed to her ear. “Whatever you want. Anything.”
Bowing back, leaning on his supporting arm, she was drugged on them. “Does he deserve to know us like that?”
“He doesn’t deserve to breathe.”
“And he won’t,” she said. “He wanted power over your woman in your territory.”
“He has to die.”
Feathering her fingers down his cheek, she touched his lips with a fingertip. “To protect what’s yours.”
“You don’t have to… I’ll work for you,” Pietro pleaded, but they were lost in each other. “I’ll do whatever you want, McDade. I’ll tell you stuff. I know stuff. Silvio… he wants to buy them out. To get in under you. He’ll do it. He won’t lose, won’t admit he’s losing his grip. Even his kid doesn’t respect him.”
On the night they’d met, she’d sailed in the green of Connel’s intrepid gaze. He’d caught the man who hurt her, restrained him, and given her carte blanche. It was a valuable trust that opened her eyes to the man he was within.
There was more. She got it. His life was filled with conspiracy and betrayal. She hadn’t betrayed him, even when her life was at stake. At the time, in the alley, she hadn’t considered what signal that would send to him. Now she got it. Beyond humility, there was a bare gratitude shining down on her that revealed how he valued her. Did he mean it? Maybe not. It was intense. Always intense. In that room, they were tying their fates together. He could ruin her; she could ruin him. Leverage. That neither of them would ever use. The innate connection held them to each other, bonded them. What he’d done for her… he’d never know how cathartic it was to hurt the man who hurt her.
Maybe she’d feel differently tomorrow, but in that moment, every part of her was certain. Of what? She didn’t know. Whatever it was, her purpose lay in him.
Pietro was still babbling, pleading, begging.
“Want me to finish it?” Connel asked, touching her cheek.
“Let him bleed out slow.”
One side of his mouth lifted. He bowed to kiss her before winking and leaving her to return to the victim.
The victim.
The blade plunged into flesh; Pietro cried out in agony. She couldn’t pity him. Her empathy well dried up. She’d begged, and he hadn’t cared. Where was his empathy then? Where was his humanity? His single-mindedness on the night of the attack betrayed his not only willingness to rape, but an excitement about it. He must’ve done it before. Every woman he’d violated was in that room as Connel finished their attacker.
“You want to see?” Connel asked before coming around to her. She just shook her head. “Come with me.”
He led her out of that room and into the next one along. A restroom. Metal sinks lined the wall.
“Wash your hands, scrub under your nails.”
Easy for him to say. Her sling made that impossible. “I, uh…”
“Come here,” he said, joining her at the sink.
From behind, with his arms around her, he wet his hands and washed hers between his, even using the nail brush to scrub under her nails. Almost like her hand was his.
His concentration was so intent on cleaning her up, she didn’t have to do a thing and got the chance to process. The night they met, she’d said he was dangerous. She’d never once considered he might use that danger, those skills, to help her.
When he was done, he kept her hand to pull her to the wall and grabbed a towel to dry both of them off.
“Take off your shoes,” he said.
She did, only to be surprised by him directing her to a new pair by the door. Two together, one for him, one for her.
He’d planned it, known it would happen. If she’d said no, what did he lose? Nothing. She’d left things in his closet upstairs. Maybe he got rid of them; the shoes suggested otherwise.
He linked their fingers again to exit and return to the square hall where people were waiting. People that included Niall and Daly.
“It’s done,” Connel said. “Take him to pieces.”
The others went down the corridor, leaving her with the three men she knew.
“Get the car and the guys,” Connel said to Daly, who nodded and went upstairs. “We need a bundle.” This time Niall left, putting her under the scrutiny of the only man left. “I don’t want you home alone tonight. Daly will stay in your apartment with you. He’ll call Strat to—”
“I don’t want to go home.” Honesty was risky. More so the longer he just looked at her. What did he see? What did he want to see? Could he be finished with her again? After what they’d just done together… “Do you want me to go home?”
His hand rose to her face. “Aye,” he said, though it didn’t feel like he was talking to her.
He did? That deflated her. When he walked, jolting her along, she went in a kind of blind mist up the stairs and through the club. Stag would open soon. Life would go on. It would just go on like nothing was different.
They went down the exit corridor. She expected him to leave her and go upstairs.
Instead, he continued outside to where Daly was holding open the car door for her.
Connel eased her into the backseat and closed the door to talk to Daly. Niall came out and joined his colleagues.
Home. Was she supposed to sit and wait for Daly to be done? Was he complaining about babysitting duty?
She couldn’t even run her fingers through her hair on both sides. What had she done? She hadn’t even thought to look for cameras or… but she hadn’t caused the most damage. He had. And he’d done it in front of her. She was the only living witness. She’d told him they didn’t have trust but didn’t know a more irrefutable way to show it. Murder. What would someone want to conceal more than that? Yet he’d trusted her with it.
The back door opened. Connel surprised her by sliding in next to her, forcing her to the middle seat.
Daly closed the back door and disappeared from view.
“What’s going on?” she asked. “I thought I was going home.”
“You are.”
Like last night? “I didn’t know you spent the night at mine. As much as I appreciate—Lachlan will probably come over. I don’t want to hide you in my bedroom closet or something. That’s ridiculous.”
“We’re not going to your apartment. Unless you need to pick anything up.”
“I have pain meds in my bathroom.”
“Drugs are not a problem, babe,” he said, wry in the declaration.
Well, yeah, drugs, legal or illegal, would be easy for him to get his hands on.
She had a bottle in her purse, which should still be somewhere in the car. “I don’t understand. If we aren’t going back to mine and we’re not staying at the club… where are we going?”
“Mine,” he said, reaching over her to snag her purse, which was apparently right there. Her head was so not in the game, any game. “Text your brother. Tell him you’re fine and going to bed early.”
“Yours?” she said, retrieving her phone to do as he said. “I thought the club was yours.”
“It is. Sometimes I don’t leave for days. Call it my second home.”
“Second?” she said when he looked at her. “You have a first home?”
“I’m going to take care of you.”
Like he’d said last night too.
“I’m not a prisoner.”
“No,” he said. “Don’t you feel free with me?”
In so many ways, his lack of rules was liberating. Yet there was security too. A comfort in his attentive embrace. In the power he held. How far would he go with her? For her? He’d killed for her, twice. Rather than repulse her, that fortitude seduced her. This man, the one sitting at her side, probing her with his certainty, knew no limits.
“I do. Take me to your place.”
He exhaled. “Aye.”