Connor and I make for the bar. Halfway across the space, the leader pops out from behind the counter and open fires on us with a semi. If his aim weren’t so shitty, I’d be in trouble—as is, I’m almost tempted to chuckle as I duck. Connor doesn’t crouch alongside me—he takes aim with his own gun. A single shot from him hits the Serpent right between the eyebrows, and the pudgy man crumbles to the ground, dead.
“Fuck,” I mutter, turning to glare at Connor. “We were supposed to take him alive.”
Connor lifts a shoulder. “It was a reflex. We’ll find his partner and interrogate him.”
“Where?” I ask. “The other guy might’ve fled—he might not even be in the city anymore. This was the Serpent’s last stronghold, now their ranks are wiped and most of the leadership is dead. All but one man, Arson, who might’ve abandoned the ship when he saw it was sinking. We might never see him again.”
Connor shrugs again. “Then we never see him again. Good fucking riddance.”
I release a long breath. “You aren’t thinking, man. You really think Arson’s going to let this go? No, he’ll be back, and we’ll have to live on high alert until we find him.” I curse under my breath. “He might be the bridge between this local gang and the trafficking op—if he comes back, he could bring serious manpower. He could start going afterGreywood students.” Fuck, he could come afterMira.
“We’ll take care of it when the time comes,” Connor says, irritation slithering into his tone. “When did you become such a pussy? That girl is fucking you up in all sorts of ways.”
“Thatwomanis making me into aman, asshole,” I snap. “One day, you’re going to fall head over heels for someone—their happiness will be your happiness. Their pain will be your pain. Their success will make you feel like you’re soaring the skies, and their failure will chip away at your heart.”
“I don’t have a heart,” Connor deadpans. “At least, that’s what I’ve been told multiple times, by many girls.”
There’s no sense in reasoning with him. Connor is too detached to hear anything he doesn’t want to hear.
“This is why I’m moving out,” I say. “I get that you have your issues. We all do. But not all of us let them rule our lives the way you do. Try actually forming an interpersonal relationship rather than collecting someone as your property; you might find it extremely rewarding.”
When we get back to the house, Mira is waiting for me on the living room couch. She has my laptop open on her lap, and is squinting at something on the screen. Usually, anyone else touching my laptop would freak me out, but I gave her the passcode and told her to have at it earlier today. I don’t have any sensitive information on it, but even if I did, I wouldn’t mind her having access. After what she did for me with Clyde, I trust her completely.
“Hey, baby,” I greet, shucking my vest. All the guns are already safely stowed away in the gun vault underneath our gardening shed, so I’m unarmed.
“Oh, thank god,” she says, shutting the laptop and gazing at me with wide eyes. She rises from the couch and rushes at me like she’s been launched from a rocket, wrapping her arms around my waist and burying her head in my chest.
I chuckle, wrapping my arms tightly around her and holding her close. “Were you worried about me?”
She nods into my chest. “Yes.”
“Hallo, love,” Seamus greets, striding up beside me. “Do I get the same reception?”
“Get fucked,” I snap.
He smiles. “I intend to. I’m off for the night, chaps; try not to miss me too much.”
In the back of my mind, I wonder if he’s going to meet up with Valerie. He’s been pretty hung up on her since we crashed girl’s night, hasn’t shown interest in anyone else since. He’s even gone as far as tochaseValerie. He and Connor both thought I was being ridiculous for chasing Mira, but now, I think Seamus might be starting to see where I was coming from.
He heads up to his room, presumably to shower and prepare for whatever booty call he has set up for the night.
Mira steps back from me, running her hands up and down my arms, eyes searching my skin for wounds. “Were you hurt?”
“Nope. I’m just fine. Connor got a bit scraped up, but—”
I cut off when Mira’s eyes widen, fixing on Connor. He’s striding through the hall, staring at his phone. From his arm comes a steady dribble of blood that creates a puddle on the floor.
“You’re leaking,” I call out to him, jerking my chin at the mess. He stops and glances at his arm, brows furrowing.
“Damn.” He resumes walking.
“Call the doc to take a look at that graze—”
“It’s a scratch,” he cuts me off dismissively. “It’ll heal on its own.”
“It’snota scratch,” Mira says, surprising me. She does her best to avoid Connor and shies away from addressing him at the best of times. Seeing his blood drip everywhere must bring out her nurturing instincts.
Connor freezes again, slowly turning to look at her with a challenging expression. “You got something to say?”
