I was about to snap at him—but then I saw him wince.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
My eyes widened. I’d never heard him use that word as an apology before.
“Get her into the office. Use the lift,” Rowan said, his gaze sweeping over Ella as if cataloguing every possible injury.“I’m going to find out who the clown and his cronies were.”
“Alec, have you got her?” I asked, still wanting more blood.
“What do you think?”
I shook my head.
Such a cocky arsehole.
I watched as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and steered her toward the lift.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he said lightly.“You can sit on my lap and let me kiss your boo-boo better.”
Ella giggled and nudged him.
Motherfucker.
???
His name was Matthew Barton—forty-two, a city wanker. Not important enough to be missed, but we had to let him go for now. He was missing a testicle and had three broken ribs. That was our insurance that he wouldn’t report us.
I didn’t think Rowan would be handy with a scalpel.
He was fixing his tie as he opened the office door.
Ella lay on top of Alec, resting the good side of her face against his chest.
“Why did we give him the fun job?” I grumbled.
“He was all over her like a filthy leech,” Rowan drawled.
“I can hear you dicks,” Alec said, smirking as he toyed with Ella’s hair.
Ella stared at my hands, but there was no fear in her eyes.
Her black eye was darkening.
My mother had worn bruises like that once.
I hated that Ella looked like her.
“Do you want me to clean your hands up?” she asked softly, though she still wasn’t looking at me.
Her fingers traced slow circles over Alec’s chest.
“Yeah,” I said.“My hands are killing me. Alec, why don’t you run along and grab a first-aid kit?”
Rowan chuckled.
“Yeah, Alec,” he added, already turning away to get a drink.
Ella was sitting up before Alec even moved.
