Aiden raises an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Ok, bug,” he pushes himself up on the bed and leans back against the headboard. “I prefer to keep a low profile. Driving a flashy car would attract too much attention and potentially put me in danger, plus I’m not really in the mood to have my car stolen on the regular.” He chuckles, running a hand through his tousled hair.
“Fair point.” I cannot very well argue with that logic, can I?
“Those men that came to the restaurant work for
David Walsh’s gang. Apparently, one of the men that went missing from my club is Walsh’s cousin. They wanted information.”
Everyone in Ireland, never mind Dublin, has heard of Walsh’s gang terrorising the streets. Though I couldn’t pick one gang member out of a line-up from a mile away,clearly.My skin crawls at the thought of being anywhere near those two arseholes in the club. I knew something was off about them.
“They like to intimidate but generally don’t act when someone is not afraid of them. They showed up at my restaurant with guns, so I took a gun with me for protection. I’ve heard stories of their violent tendencies and didn’t wantto take any chances. As soon as they saw that I was armed, they backed off.” Aiden stifles a yawn and cracks his neck.
Also a fair point.
“So, what do you do then? If not drugs, skin trade?”
“Fuck off!”
I don’t even know where that idea came from, to be honest. I blame Maria and her obsession with Zade what’s-his-face.
“Money laundering?”
“That’s a grey area,” he points a calloused finger at me. “I prefer to think of it as financial management, finding creative ways to maximise profits and minimise taxes.”
Something about Aiden’s response makes me uneasy. “That’s not it, is it? There’s something else.”
His smile fades, leaving nothing but the sharp angles of his jaw and cheekbones. He sucks on his teeth, clearly grappling with what he should tell me, if anything. “It’s a long story, bug.”
I cross my arms over my chest, growing more suspicious by the second.
“You’re sexy when you’re angry,” he leans in for a kiss and gets the cheek. “Fine,” he sighs, pulling away. “I told you about my dad and what kind of arsehole he was.”
I nod sympathetically, urging him to continue.
“You could say he is the reason this all started. According to Éabha, I developed a saviour complex. After he died, Éabha got into trouble; she was assaulted, and I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. She begged me not to get involved, but I couldn’t let the prick get away with it, so I found him and confronted him. It escalated into a fight, and I ended up getting arrested for assault.”
That explains the articles I found on him when he wasseventeen.
“Do you regret it?”
He doesn’t even have to think about it. “No. I’m sorry I didn’t kill the prick for what he did to her.” He stares at the Celtic knots tattooed on his right hand, leading up to a full sleeve that stops at the halfway mark on his neck. “There was another who came for her two years later. Then I noticed that half the girls I grew up with were being abused in some way, shape, or form. Not always sexually, but it felt like a disgusting rite of passage for them. I couldn’t just stand by and watch anymore. So, I made it my mission to protect them, to be their voice and their shield against the monsters lurking in the shadows, and I’ve been doing it ever since.”
“H-how do you do it? Face men like that?”
The smile he gives me is devoid of any warmth or amusement. “By being the bigger monster.”
My body betrays me. The shiver that runs down my spine causes a full-on shudder. It’s something he seems to register before I do.
“I’ve frightened you.” His hand reaches out to touch my arm, his touch surprisingly gentle for someone who claims to be a monster. “You have nothing to fear from me, Katie. I won’t ever hurt you.”
I crawl onto his lap and rest my head on his shoulder. A move of reassurance, I’m not exactly sure if I’m trying to reassure him, or me. “You hurt those men?”
“I do.”
Do you kill them?
I’d never expect anyone to openly admit to being a murderer, but I’ve got an inkling that if I did voice that question, Aiden would answer me honestly. It’s something I don’t think I’mprepared to hear.
I nuzzle closer to Aiden and feel the warmth of his body against mine. My arms slide around his back, and I hold onto him tightly. He doesn’t feel like a monster. Even after his admission, I feel safe in his arms. Perhaps he’s damaged just as I am. What is that saying? Like calls to like?
