“You were ten kinds of protective when I found her, Nolan acted as her human shield—”
“She’s your sister, Jo. You’re one of ours, so she is too. Don’t read into it.” His tone has that quality that it gets when he’s slipping into his “Mafia Head” persona. If I were a smart omega, I’d be more afraid of it. Even Sam’s brows shoot up in surprise at the tone.
But this is my sister. Even if I’m not blood-related to her, I’m all she has. “Oh, I’mgonnaread into it—I’m gonna read it like a smutty romance novel, Declan Gallagher. I love you, but you need to stay away until I can talk to her.” He doesn’t say anything for a second. I know I have him pegged, and he’s clearly feeling a little bit guilty for whatever pull he feels towards her. “Do you hear me, Declan?”
Sam shoots me a look that tells me he thinks I’m a crazy person, but then Declan sighs. “Yeah, I hear you. I know it’s weird, but…”
“You’re drawn to her,” I finish for him. “You want to keep her safe. Can…can you scent her?”
“When I was carrying her out of Thornfield, I swear I got a whiff of chocolate cream pie. But now I can’t get close enough to see the color of her eyes.”
He got a hint of scent, even with the instinct inhibitor. I keep what that could mean to myself. There’s every chance in the world that Mabel’s medication doesn’t fully dull her scent. “Dec…”
“I know. Iknow, Jo. She has bite marks all over, she’s been through hell the last five years. She doesn’t need us panting all over her.”
Wait just a damn minute. “Us?”
He pauses. “Yeah. Us. As you so helpfully pointed out, Nolan shielded her with his damn body. Aidan’s buried himself in his work again, and Rory won’t stop talking about kidnapping her from her room and hand-feeding her until she gains some weight back. He might have actually done it by now if he didn’t have Brooks to torture for information.”
“Tell Rory I will gut him if he kidnaps her.” My voice is a growl, and Declan lets out a weary laugh.
“I’ve told him that myself, but it might be more of a threat coming from you.”
I’d ask him to video-call me, but the old flip-phone he provided us with is too low-tech. I know it's for security and all that, but it’d be nice to see Mabel’s face on the screen. “Call me tomorrow, and put me on the phone with her. I can get a better gauge of where she's at mentally.”
“I can call you around noon.”
“Sounds good. We’ll talk tomorrow. And Dec?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For everythin’. Not just gettin’ me out, but…everythin’ before that too. Love you.”
He sighs, and I can just imagine how he’s no doubt running his hand through his hair right now. “Love you too, kid. I’d do it all again, every time.”
“I know.”
We hang up and I hand the phone back to Sam. “You okay?” he asks, brow raised.
“Right as rain, Sammy-boy.” I grin, stretching my arms above my head. In fact, I feel better than I have in a long time. When my stomach growls, though, he gives me a look. “Well, maybe Iama little hungry.”
twenty-one
West
“Good mornin’!” Jo’s chipper voice has me looking up from the journal I had been snooping through. According to Cian’s recordings, this safe house has been with the Gallagher family since Declan’s grandfather was the head of the Irish Mafia syndicate.
No wonder the amenities are so luxurious.
Evenmyfather would be jealous of the marble shower with the waterfall head and the claw-foot tub. While the rest of the house is no different than your standard log-cabin, the bathroom and kitchen are designed with high-quality appliances in mind, making it obvious it’s been modified to fitthe Gallagher family needs.
Jo walks into the living room, Sam right behind her, looking unsure of what to do with himself.
Kole looks up from his spot on the couch, where he had been scribbling something on a piece of paper. "Good morning,” he answers, despite the fact that it’s three in the afternoon. “You seem better than you did yesterday,Lisichka.”
And damn, does she. She’s still a little dark under her eyes, and I can tell she’s lost a bit of weight, but we’ll remedy that shortly. She still looks like heaven and sin rolled into one confusing ball of omega sensuality. Her hair, which had been wet when she went to sleep, is semi-tamed on the top of her head in one of those messy buns. Her large sleep shirt hangs off one shoulder, the freckled, bare skin begging to be kissed. Black leggings cling to her shapely legs, and holy shit, I’ve never been more desperate in my life.
“A day and a half of sleep will do that,” I comment, closing the journal and standing. My feet move on their own, taking me towards the little omega who has turned my life upside-down in the best way.
