Rory wouldn’t hurt me. But Lachlan? I’m not so sure. I’m Mack’s friend, but if he had to choose between protecting his family or me, he’s always going to choose his family.
“He’s a good man,” I tell Booker. “Rory would never hurt me.”
“I know,” he says. “I’ve seen you together.”
The rest of my words fail me, but Booker understands perfectly.
“And you won’t hurt him either.”
He’s right.
I can’t bring him into this mess. Any further than he already is. I can’t risk his life, or his relationship with the syndicate.
I need him to hate me. It’s the only way he will let me go. He said so himself. That he would go to battle for me. That he won’t ever give up.
I close my eyes, and a shudder racks my body.
I’m going to fall on my sword for him. To protect him. And to love him in the only way I can. By keeping him as far away from me as possible.
Giving him a real shot at happiness. With someone who deserves it.
Booker is waiting for me when I open my eyes. Waiting for the words he already knew were coming.
“I’ll need your help.”
Thirty-One
Rory
It’s late, and most of the lads have cleared out of the gym, but Conor lingers behind. He’s itching to get back to Ivy, but I make him spar with me, anyway.
When the door opens, and it’s Scarlett, Conor gives an audible sigh of relief.
I never know what I’m going to get with her.
After what happened earlier, I half expected she’d disappear on me again. But here she is, looking soft and sweet and… something else.
I can’t figure out what it is.
Resigned, maybe.
Sad?
I don’t know.
She walks up and grabs me around the waist, pulling me against her.
“Get lost, Conor,” she says.
“Fuck off,” is his reply.
“Conor.”
His gaze snaps to me, and it seems the lad has finally grown some balls.
“Get lost,” I tell him.
He does.
