I’m too weak to resist and my head is now in a vice and swimming from the motion. I swallow bile. “Where is she?” My heart thumps hard against my ribs. Which, now that I’m paying attention, feel like I got kicked by a coked-up horse.Oh god.If anything happened to her, I will burn those motherfuckers down in their own homes.
Rocco sighs and pours some water from a pitcher into a paper cup. He raises my bed and helps me sip some. I suck in a breath as the move jostles my ribcage. I can tell by the worry pinching his mouth that I won’t like what he says next.
“Okay. I need you to try to stay calm.”
Fuck.
“I’m serious, Sandro. You have to let your brain recover.”
“Just fucking tell me.”
He rakes a hand down his face. “After the two Russian pricks slammed into your car, they…they took her.”
“Motherfucker.” The word is a rumble in my throat. A fist squeezes my chest. Black spots cloud my vision as the Beast rears its head.
“She’s alive. That’s the good news.” He shifts on his feet and shakes his head. “And so are you. Thanks to the person in the black Mercedes who was following you and Lennon.”
Through the pounding in my head and the roar of blood in my ears, I try to understand what he just said. I can’t. It doesn’t make sense. “Explain.”
“There’s someone here who needs to talk to you. It’s better if he explains.” He squeezes my arm, being careful to avoid the IV-line dripping god-knows-what into my body. “Be right back.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. And the memory hits me like a Mac truck.
Her green eyes widening in terror. My name on her lips. Then the loud boom of impact. The screech of crushed metal. Her scream. Then nothing. Nothing until I woke up here. I fucking failed her. I didn’t protect her.
The door opens and Rocco enters with another man behind him.
The man is as tall as Rocco, with broad shoulders and the lean, muscular body of a jungle cat. He’s wearing all black. Black T-shirt, black jeans, combat boots. His eyes are locked on me with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. He stands at the end of my bed,hands shoved in his pockets as Rocco slides a chair beside my bed and motions for him to sit.
I ignore the thumping in my skull as he sits, and we assess each other.
He lets me look him over, staying silent with a slight smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth and intense green eyes unwavering. His hair is cropped short and dyed a white blond, there’s a silver bar piercing through his eyebrow, and black tats crawling up his neck and down his arms. Despite this man’s easy-going manner, I know he’s dangerous. I can feel it in his calm, lethal energy. My questioning gaze moves to Rocco, who’s standing behind him, arms folded. He nods.
Trust him.
I move my attention back to the man. “Who are you? And why have you been following Lennon?”Damn it.My voice sounds hoarse, weak. I clear my throat and give him my best “don’t fuck with me” stare. The effort causes a fresh wave of thumping behind my right eye.
He nods slowly. “Name’s Killian. I have been following your girl, aye.”
Fuck me. The accent. The quiet confidence of a killer. I immediately know who he is.
Irish mob.
My jaw clenches, sending a burst of white-hot pain through my skull. I break out in a cold sweat.
His gaze travels over my face and his brows press down. “Take it easy, mate. It’s not what you think. I have no intention of causing harm to Lennon. In fact, I was protecting her. I wasn’t sure what your agenda was, and I wasn’t too keen on her gettin’ wrapped up with the costa nostra.”
“Why the fuck do you care?”
His eyes light up and I get a flash of white teeth as he leans back in the chair and grins. “Because she’s my half-sister.”
I blink. And blink again. Okay, I wasn’t expecting that.What the fuck?
He chuckles at the disbelief on my face. “Take a minute. I get it. I just found out a few months ago myself.”
I look at him. Really look at him. There is a slight resemblance there. The green eyes, the full mouth. “Go on,” I manage, though the fatigue is beginning to engulf me.
“Her mam,Angela Rinaldi, was my Da’s mistress. My Da is Mac Donnelly.”
