I scrub a hand through my beard. “But I couldn’t pull through on my end. I’m letting you all down.”
“You’re not letting anyone down. You thought we’d be mad at you for falling in love?” Myles asks.
“There’s definitely something to be said about the love of a good woman,” Ray adds. “It’s what makes us better men.”
“And the plan?” I ask.
“Fuck the plan. The plan went out the window the second you started listening to your heart and not your dick,” Jett chimes in.
“Where do we go from here? Without the photos, where does that leave us? Watson’s not just gonna give up.”
Cru smirks. “Funny you should ask. It’s not been easy and I’ve had to do some pretty shady shit but I think I’m onto something. Got into his finances. Took a while, but I got there. He’s made multiple payments to the same account, payments that date back over twenty years.”
I lean forward on the table. “Who was he paying?”
“Not got that far yet, but I’m working on it. Watson knowshow to cover his tracks, but not well enough to hide them from me. I’ll get there.”
Just like that, a massive weight has been lifted from around my shoulders. My brothers don’t hate me for backing out of the plan I set in motion, we’ve figured out a way to get rid of Watson and I get to keep the girl.
Either I’m the luckiest bastard in the planet or it’s all too good to be true. And in most cases, if it seems too good to be true, it probably is.
38
The sunlight streaming through the crack in the curtains burns my eyes and I roll over with a groan, throwing an arm over my face to block out the light as I snuggle back under the covers.
The shower turns on next door and I smile, tempted to join him. The ache between my legs has images of last night coming back to me and I’m all too happy to relive it.
Killian was in a strange mood when he came back from his club meeting and he spent most thenight buried inside me—as he is most nights—but last night felt different.
He made love to me slowly, taking his time to drag every ounce of pleasure out of us both. It was deep and intimate and it almost felt like he loved me. Expressing his feelings through words doesn’t come easily to him, and it felt like he wasshowingme rather than telling me he loved me.
My stomach flutters at the thought.
My phone buzzes on the bedside table behind me and I blindly reach back for it, feeling around for it with my eyes squeezed shut until I feel the cool metal beneath my fingers.
I tap the screen, squinting open an eye against the harshness of the light that floods the room. Only it’s not my phone, it’s Killian’s, and the text message on the screen has my heart slamming to a halt in my chest.
I prop myself up against the headboard, bringing the sheet up to cover my naked chest. I re-read the message twice, three times and still the words don’t seem to make sense.
Photos?
What photos?
My mind races, my brain firing in a thousand different directions trying to make sense of all of it and the only thing I can come up with, the only viable explanation leads me to…
No.
He wouldn’t.Would he?
I unlock the screen, finding there’s no password stopping me from going further. My stomach churns, hating the fact I’m invading his privacy by snooping through his phone, but I have to know for sure.
I open up his gallery. It’s full of photos of tattoos he’s done and screenshots of motorcycles and tattoo designs but an album catches my attention.
It’s untitled, but the thumbnail image has my heart shuddering to a halt in my chest.
My hands shake as I open up the album, terrified of what’s inside.
I’m confronted by pictures of me. Half a dozen of them.
