Brogan wanted to roar his frustration, but it was impossible. His consciousness was already slipping away. Everything went black.
15
AMY
She didn’t mean to say “I love you” to Brogan. She hadn’t even realized the depth of her feelings for him until the words tumbled out, but once she said it, she knew it was true. The man had burrowed his way into her heart, and there was no going back.
But his reaction was completely heartbreaking.
He wasn’t just emotionally pushing her away anymore. He was physically sending her away from him, getting rid of her so easily. As if she meant nothing to him.
He didn’t even bother to say goodbye to her this afternoon. He stayed in his room while one of his men picked her up and helped her get her things in the car, the same duffle bags she arrived with. Now she was at another safe house, anxious and alone in a small place south of the city just before the farmland started. It was late, but she couldn’t sleep, so she was in the kitchen, sipping on hot tea from the fully stocked pantry. The four walls of this place seemed to be closing in on her as she replayed what happened last night over and over again in her mind.
The pain she felt remembering his rejection made a hollow ache appear in her chest. Here she was, pregnant and all alone while he was out doing something dangerous. It was no wonder she couldn’t sleep.
She was worried about him, despite everything.
Amy knew that Brogan brought up his past last night to try to scare her off, but it didn’t work. She was shocked at first, but she’d come to terms with it over the last twenty-four hours. If she really loved this man, she had to accept all parts of him. That included his past, his darkness. She knew he’d been in the mafia for a long time and was a homeless kid before that. How many options did he really have? She imagined that it wasn’t easy for him to make the decision to become a killer, but if that was what the previous leader of the mafia wanted from him, could he really say no?
In the end, what mattered was how she felt about him, and she was clinging to her belief that he was a good guy that had just done some bad things in the past. She knew it wasn’t really that simple, but it didn’t matter.
She loved him for who he was in the present.
Amy’s phone rang at one in the morning, just when she was contemplating trying to get some sleep, and she answered it immediately, hoping it might be Brogan. Instead, a different man’s voice was on the line.
“Amy, we need your help.”
“Owen?”
“Yes,” he said, almost impatiently. “We need you to come back to the city. I’ve already sent someone to pick you up.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“There was…a fight. We went head-to-head with the Italians. I have too many injured men for the doctor to keep up with.”
She had about a million questions, but she only voiced the most important one. “Is Brogan okay?”
There was a pause that made her stomach clench. “He’s hurt.”
The sound of a horn honking outside had her moving to the front door. “The car is here.”
“Good, I’ll see you soon.”
He hung up before she could ask more questions.
The ride back to the city seemed to take forever, and Amy was sure that she was annoying the driver as she fidgeted the whole time. When they pulled up to Owen’s house, she barely waited until the car stopped before throwing the door open and rushing inside.
The living room looked so different that she paused in the doorway, her wide eyes taking it all in. The furniture had been shoved up against the walls to make room for the seven men stretched on the floor. It reminded her of pictures she’d seen of medical triage in war zones. Everyone was lying on blankets and in various stages of treatment. There was a doctor leaning over a man moaning in pain while Owen stood at the back of the room on the phone and Ruby passed out water bottles to those that were awake.
Her eyes met Brogan’s from across the room. He was covered in blood, and her knees went weak so fast that she had to grab onto the door frame for support. Alarm passed over his face, and Brogan sat up, as if planning to come to her, but the movement must have made him dizzy because he swayed even while sitting down and went pale.
The need to get to him got her moving. She crouched down and at his side and urged him to lay down with her hand on his chest.
“Tell me where you’re injured,” she said, flipping into doctor mode so easily that she could almost ignore the rush of emotions that arose just from being near him, good and bad.
“My head’s fucking killing me, but I think the doc is more worried about my leg.”
He pulled his blanket back to reveal a bloody bandage on his thigh. Peeling it back, she saw a long gash that ran along the side of his leg. It didn’t look too deep, but it needed to be stitched up.
