I shake my head and slip out of the room, pulling the door mostly closed behind me.
I’m a dead man. That’s all there is to it.
The problem is, I can’t bring myself to be sorry.
I’ve never had another woman fit me like that—not just physically, though that’s its own kind of miracle. It’s somethingelse. The way her mind clicks into mine. The way her stubbornness meets mine head-on instead of backing down. The way she sees everything and still chose to let me in.
It’s not a matter of size or technique. It’s…connection.
Fuck me for saying it, but there it is.
In the kitchen, I pour myself a drink. The whiskey burns all the way down, a familiar fire that does nothing to dull the churn in my gut.
I stare at the lasagna cooling on the stove and snort.
Domestic life, Kelly. You’re really ticking all the boxes.
I lean my elbows on the counter, turning the glass in my hand.
I’m keeping her.
The thought is dangerous, and the thought is clear. It’s also the only one that feels true.
It’s just that I’ve never disobeyed a direct order before. Not once since I came to work for the Irish as a teenager. You listen, you execute, you live. Simple.
Since taking this job, it’s been one act of disobedience after another.
Mentally, I tick through each offense like I’m tallying sins in a confessional.
Didn’t bring her to Philly, like Kael would have preferred.
Definitely didn’t keep my hands to myself.
Put her within spitting distance of the man hunting her more than once.
My jaw tightens. I tip back the last of the whiskey and let it scorch its way down.
That will be the last time I fail her.
Thurston’s misstep at the farm had become my boon—Miguel instead of her—but it never should have happened the way it did. I hadn’t been there. Not yet. I’d been on my way, thinking I had more time. Thinking the monster would play by rules he never agreed to.
If I’m honest with myself, though…I don’t hate how things have turned out since.
Tally is mine.
The words drum a steady beat in my head and heart.
Now I just have to make sure she understands that and navigate the fallout in such a way that I escape with my dick and my life intact.
Headlights sweep across the front window, washing the living room in white for a second.
The glass hits the counter with a soft clink as I set it down.
No one with anything good in mind comes to a man’s house in the dead of night.
My primary gun is in the bedroom, within easy reach of the bed. I’m not going back in there and risking waking her up—for her sake, not mine.
Luckily, I’m not stupid enough to keep all my eggs in one holster.
