It’s been a very long time since anyone’s complimented me. Even longer since I’ve believed it.
“Point is, you’re a pain in the ass, girl,” he grunts. “But you’re also a stubborn, brave little thing, and I’m notmad about it. I respect it.”
“Err… thanks,” I mumble.
We’ve rounded another corner, one more block to go until we reach his building.
“I don’t want to go to the safehouse.”
“Already said you don’t have to. You’ve got your sister to find.”
“It’s not…” I pause for a sigh I shudder out. “It’s not just that. It’s… um, I guess… it’s that… I don’t feel safe anywhere else.”
Killian’s next step falters slightly as his gaze meets mine, and my face warms like it usually does when on the receiving end of his stare.
“What I mean is…” I stammer awkwardly. “We’ve already gotten to know each other. Sort of. A-and… and it’s hard to trust anyone. I don’t want to take any more chances.”
The start of a grin pulls at his mouth, battling with his natural scowl. “Then you don’t have to. You’ll stay with me. For as long as it takes for this to be over.”
We’ve finally come up on his apartment building, the concrete steps spread out in front of us in invitation. I go up them first with Killian only a stair behind.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Thinking it’s a night to order in. There’s a decent pizza spot that delivers.”
“What about your training?”
“Sounds like a tomorrow problem. I’ll let my trainer bitch me out then.”
Idosmile, the expression feeling foreign on my face after so many days where I had no reason to.
“Pizza sounds good. So long as you’re okay with jalapeños.”
NINE
Killian
I’ve got nowhereto stash Jhene, and she gets restless on her days off from the pub, so I’m forced to bring her with me to Callahan House.
It’s the only way to kill two birds with one stone—make sure the girl’s safe while also conducting my first meeting as Clan Chief. An event I’ve put off long enough.
If I had my way, there’d be no meeting for the entirety of the time Ronan’s gone.
I pull up to the front entrance of the large red-brick family estate.
Callahan House has always carried a lived-in quality about it that I appreciate more than most rich bastard’s homes. The Callahan family hasn’t bothered doing a damn thing about the ivy crawling up the walls or the cracked marble statue in the garden.
It’s old. It’s historic. Real evidence of a family legacy.
I was poor as shit growing up—secondhand schoolbooks and duct-taped sneakers kind of poor—but I spent plenty of time behind these walls.
Me and Ronan ran through the halls, usuallyroughhousing and getting into trouble. Driving the keeper of the house, Oona, batshit crazy (because god knows Seamus Callahan was always busy being Clan Chief and Mrs. Callahan was never around).
This was the place where I realized I never wanted to follow in my dirtbag father’s footsteps. I wanted to be part of the clan and join the Irish mob.
“This is where they live?” Jhene asks from the seat beside mine. She peers out the passenger window as if studying for an exam.
“The Callahans themselves, not the rest of the clan.” I wrench the key from the ignition and hop out of the SUV. “Come on. Remember, no wandering off.”
She shoots me her signature moody look capable of curdling milk, though she doesn’t bother verbally battling me on it. I understand the look fine enough.
