Mr. Killough grasped my chin firmly until I looked up at him from where I’d been staring at my fingers, then let me go. “Hmm. We’ll see what we can do about that. You’re a special kind of dangerous.”
“Me?How?”
Laughing, he set his empty glass on the coffee table. “I have been lenient for the sake of some excellent men. Cillian and Rowen are loyal to me. I didn’t come here to say this, but I’ve put you under their protection, which is mine in the end. Do you understand why you can’t collect written material on any organization? If they won’t teach you this lesson....” Conall let out an angry little sound, and Mr. Killough laughed, squeezing him close. “I wasn’t going to do what you’re thinking, pet. Behave. If they won’t teach you that lesson, you’ll end up dead. I don’t like that idea at the present moment.”
“I... my dad was killed.” I rubbed my hands over my face.
“Your loss is appreciable. That was unfortunate and the parties are being dealt with.”
Conall leaned forward and whispered, “That’s as good as sorry from Sloan.”
Mr. Killough chuckled.
“I wish I had been able to admit to myself that people were right when they told me what I was doing was dangerous, before... before that happened.”
Mr. Killough grunted. “I know what it’s like to lose a parent. Pet?” He lifted the glass, and Conall took it, heading toward the kitchen. I went to follow, but Mr. Killough held up a hand.
“Most of our men learn that their actions have consequences at a younger age than this. Look at me, I’m doing it. I’m talking to you.” He shook his head at me but smiled. “You’re so interested. I think that’s what it is.”
“But Iaminterested in everything you have to say.”
He glanced around the room, and his eyes seemed brighter when they landed on me again. “I read one of your books. You’re very thorough. We could probably find something for a man like you to do.”
Conall came back with another whiskey and sat down at Mr. Killough’s side, but Mr. Killough only swirled the amber liquid in his glass once he took it.
“That’s a good solution for this,” Conall said to Mr. Killough and kissed his cheek.
I shrugged. “That’s kind of you to offer, but I love teaching. I just don’t know if... Cillian said—”
Mr. Killough laughed and held up a hand again, cocking his head as if he’d heard something I hadn’t. The men around the room, who I hadn’t noticed much until Mr. Killough glanced at them, drew guns from holsters beneath their suit coats. I straightened and gasped.
Conall shook his head. “It’s okay. They do this all the time.”
Mr. Killough narrowed his eyes on him, and I swore he huffed.
“Every once in a while, it’s necessary.” Amusement twinkled in Conall’s eyes and he glanced at Mr. Killough, as if to see if he was getting a rise out of him.
I couldn’t help but laugh at the tiny, sour expression that crept across Mr. Killough’s face, but he quickly smoothed it away.
The front door smacked against the wall, or at least, that’s what it sounded like, and Cillian and Rowen rushed into the room, along with Fallon and Aspen. I gaped for a second at Fallon because while the rest of the men were in suits, he was dressed for porn in tight leather pants and a black shirt. Maybe pirate porn. His wavy shoulder-length blond hair and the hard angles of his face only added to the high-seas fantasy. I bit my knuckle while I stared too long, and he flashed me a grin.
Mr. Killough leaned back, and Conall curled his feet up at his side on the couch, resting fully against him. Mr. Killough put his hand on the top of my head for a second, then smirked. “Gentlemen, you didn’t tell me Dr. Mifflin was such an interesting man.”
Cillian stared, his brown eyes serious, then came over and went to a knee in front of me. His sharp jaw tensed so hard the dimple in his chin stood out, visible underneath short stubble. His dark hair was styled to perfection, and I wanted to touch it and mess it up. I was surprised when he ran his hands along my sides and down my legs, almost like he was checking to see if I was injured. “How the feck did ye get out of the panic room? Tell me. An earthquake shouldn’t have shook that door open.”
Mr. Killough chuckled, and this time it was a light sound. “Can’t keep your pet in check, Cillian?”
“He’s not a pet.”
Conall leaned forward and gave me a sympathetic frown. His eyes danced with humor. “Maybe if you’re very good you’ll get an upgrade.”
“Or bad,” Mr. Killough murmured and brought his hand down in a hard slap on Conall’s ass that had him leaning even more of his weight on Mr. Killough. Conall worked his fingertips through Mr. Killough’s white-blond hair and dug them in against the dark roots at his scalp, almost like he was trying to apologize that way.
“How did ye get out—”
Rowen cleared his throat. “Maybe not now?” His dry tone washed over me, and I squirmed with guilt. He gave me a look, his grayish-blue eyes stern as he brushed a hand over his reddish-blond beard. I hadn’t stayed put and he’d expected me to do that, even if he hadn’t locked me in the panic room.
Mr. Killough glanced between them. “Are you implying your boy isn’t safe with me?”
