“You have something to say?”
“You know he’s desperately in love with her?” he questions. He doesn’t add any additional snark about Elena, and I wonder if it’s because he’s had his own glimpse of who she is as a person.
“It doesn’t matter. He made her have a fucking panic attack.”
Declan’s eyebrows furrow as he continues driving without any other attempts at defending the dumb-ass.
Lorcán is already waiting in the parking lot, obviously doing his best to make sure none of the Italians are tailing him.
“Cillian,” he greets.
I smile at him before cocking back my fist and hitting him in the jaw. Finn is the fighter out of the two of us, but this motherfucker has me heated.
He doesn’t hit me back. He just rubs his jaw and blinks at me.
“She’s fucking spiraling over that fucking package you sent.”
He smirks and shakes his head. I grab the lapel of his jacket and tug him in close. He doesn’t back down. He never has when it comes to me or Finn.
“Good,” he replies.
“Good?”
“How much longer do you want her there? If she thinks it’s Anthony, she’ll all but run into your arms, begging you to keep her safe. She called you right after she got it, didn’t she?” he asks.
I tug on his suit jacket one more time before releasing him with a harsh shove.
“You could have told someone this fucking plan, Lorcán.”
“Ah, yes. Because you and Finn are so fucking receptive to any input I have when it comes to Elena. Not to mention, you two don’t answer my phone calls half the time. You might be getting to know her now, Cillian. But don’t forget who’s spent the last few years at her side. Don’t forget that I know her better than you do.”
He’s pissing me off, and I want to hit him where it hurts.
“Is that true, brother? Do you know the little noises she makes when her pussy is wrapped around your knot?” I don’t mention how I’m her scent match, and he isn’t. I think that might be cutting too fucking deep for the pathetic bastard.
His eyes grow dark, looking thunderous, but he doesn’t reply.
We both know he didn’t do anything sexual with her. His orders were clear: make sure our asset was safe. He clearly did a bang-up fucking job of it.
“The whole reason she’s in this mess is because you weren’t keeping track of her.”
“Is it Cillian? I was the one who told you where she might be, and you’re the one who decided to play your fucking little emotional game. She could have been at the house nearly two weeks ago, and I’d finally be fucking free from working forthe Amantes. You think you’re better than me because you’re a legitimate son, but tell me, what the fuck have you sacrificed for this family?”
He shouts the last bit at me, and Declan whistles, cutting off my response.
“Shite, we got company.”
Suddenly, a cascade of bullets hits the surrounding cars. All three of us quickly take cover and draw our own weapons.
Lorcán and I are behind one vehicle while Declan is blocked by another. The bullets are coming too quickly for us to see who is shooting at us.
“Fuck,” Lorcán growls next to me.
He leans forward as tires screech, some bullets shattering the driver’s window and mirror of the car we’re using as a shield.
“Shit, that was the Amantes,” Lorcán curses as his phone vibrates in his pocket. “Logan,” he replies, all traces of his accent gone.
“Unfortunate. I thought there would be one less rat scurrying around the Las Vegas Strip. There’s a bounty on your head, you traitorous fuck. Give the phone to Seamus’ son,” he demands.
