Both men glance down at me. Killian’s pierced brow lifts. My face heats.
Luckily, the elevator door opens and we step out.
“I’ll have to take a rain check on aLove Islandepisode tonight. I’m afraid I’m wrecked,” Mac says as he sinks into the bed.
“No worries, it’s been a long day. Just get some rest.” I check his vitals one last time, then give Killian time alone with Mac.
When Killian steps back into the hall, he pauses, surprised to see me still there. Then he tries to ignore me as he passes, but I follow him to the elevator.
We step in. As the doors close, he turns to me, pinning me with a steady, assessing gaze.
I gather my courage as I meet his eyes. “I need to ask you a favor.”
He rocks on his heels and rubs the back of his neck roughly. “A favor? That’s rich.”
The elevator door opens too soon, and I end up trying to keep up with him as his long strides carry him through the dimly lit garage. I don’t catch up until he’s at his Mercedes.
“Killian, please,” I say, exasperation and exhaustion evident in my tone.
He finally pauses and turns to look at me, irritation and something darker tightening his features. “Go on then.”
I instinctively take a step back but hold my ground there. This is a matter of life and death. For me. For Celia. For my daughter. “I’d like a job on The Lucky Sinner.”
Confusion flickers over his face. “I don’t have any need of a doctor. Unless someone gets shot, then I’ll call you.”
“No.” I hold my hands out, then drop them when I notice they’re trembling. “A job… dancing. Let me try out.”
His body stills as his eyes slowly roam over my body. His jaw tightens, his narrowed gaze managing to look both pissed off and skeptical.
Suddenly self-conscious, I cross my arms over my chest. “I put myself through medical school on the pole, Killian. I’m good.” I try to add an air of confidence to my words, but even I hear how they fall flat.
The only sound is a boat roaring across the Bay waters behind us as I wait for him to say something… anything.
He runs his tongue over his teeth and then with a calmness that’s more threatening than if he’d raised his voice, he asks, “Why’d you lose it when you heard Da wasn’t the one they were gunnin’ for?”
“What?” The change of subject has caught me off guard.
He leans his hip against his black Mercedes, his stare now boring into me. His gruff voice is still whisper soft as he says, “You heard me just fine.”
“I… didn’t.” Jesus, why couldn’t I be a better liar? I sigh. “That’s not any of your concern.”
“Oh, but it is. I know you’re hiding somethin’… or from someone. If your dirty laundry almost got Da killed, then it is very much my business.”
“I saved your dad’s life, Killian.” Now I’m angry. And frustrated. And getting desperate. Which is making me reckless. “You guys would’ve let him bleed out on that lawn because of your idiotic need to stay off the books at all costs.”
His jaw tightens. He knows I’m right. What he doesn’t know, but is beginning to suspect, is I’m in the exact same predicament, keeping myself off the grid.
“So, I owe you, is that it?” he asks.
I sigh and feel the exhaustion seeping into my bones. I’m so tired of running, of begging. “No. If you do this for me, I’ll owe you.”
His gaze catches on my wrist. I’m wearing the pink beads and a silver charm bracelet with a Rod of Asclepius charm, the universal symbol of medicine. His eyes darken. “A serpent. Fitting,” he whispers under his breath. His eyes are glittering and hard when he meets mine. “The answer is no.”
Chapter 8
Killian
Ipeel out of the garage and onto the residential street. Her scent, her goddamn puppy dog eyes, still holding me. I’m driving but I’m not seeing the road. I’m caught in the memory she’s dug up for me.
