Page 62 of Stolen Rebel

First, Rowan needs medical attention. Then… well, then we talk.

Chapter 29

LIAM

“Why is it that you Mahoneys only ever darken my door when you need medical attention and can’t risk going to a hospital like normal fucking people?”

I shift Rowan in my arms and glare at my brother’s best friend. “Are you gonna let us in, or do I have to force my way through and put a gun to your head to treat her? Because I will.”

Cillian shakes his head and stands back. “You’re a fucking liability. Care to tell me who she is?”

“Kidnap,” Rowan murmurs, which, I admit, does not show me in the best light. Patrick mustn’t have told Cillian we had a houseguest because his eyes flare.

“Jesus Christ. Another one?” He beckons to me, then strides down the hallway and into his dining room. Flashbacks of Patrick bleeding out on that table assault me. Not sure I’ll ever forget that night, no matter how much time passes.

“What the hell is wrong with you Mahoneys? Can’t you just meet someone in the pub and ask them on a date like normal people?” He pulls out a chair. “Put her down here. Gently,” he adds as though he thought I’d toss her on the table like a sack of spuds. “I’ll get my medical kit.”

He disappears, returning a few seconds later. “Move.”

Only my brother’s best friend could get away with barking instructions at me and not end up with his head blown off. Doesn’t mean I won’t give him a pair of black eyes, though. Jury’s out. Let’s see how well he fixes up Rowan.

He opens the kit and removes a packet of sterile gauze. He presses it to the cut. “What’s your name?”

I almost answer on her behalf. Almost. Stop myself just in time. Let’s see if a bang to the head loosens her tongue.

“Row.” Her head lolls and she yawns. “Tired.”

Bingo.

“I know, but I need you to stay awake for me, Row. Open your eyes.”

“It’s Rowan,” I interject.

Cillian doesn’t even acknowledge me, his attention solely on her. Exactly where I want it to be. He peels away the gauze and peers at the wound, then presses the gauze down again.

“How did she injure herself?”

“Running from me.”

“Can’t say I blame her,” Cillian drawls. “What with you kidnapping her and all.”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“Well, you would say that,” Cillian murmurs. Fuck, he’s an annoying bastard, but he’s also an incredible surgeon and a trustworthy partner to us. He saved my brother’s life. That and the fact I need him are the only things keeping me from smashing his head into the wall and giving him a concussion of his own.

“Did she lose consciousness?”

“I don’t think so. She did close her eyes on the way over here, though.”

He finishes cleaning the wound and tapes a clean square bandage over it, then gives her a tetanus shot. He asks her a barrage of questions, some of which she answers and some she just shrugs. Eventually, he snaps the medical kit closed and turns to me.

“She’s got a mild concussion. She needs rest and quiet for the next forty-eight hours. Give her paracetamol every four hours. No screen time. Someone needs to stay with her for the next twenty-four hours. If her headache worsens, she starts vomiting, is extremely drowsy, or suffers from decreased coordination, then I don’t give a fuck what trouble it brings to your door, you take her to the hospital. Got it?”

I grind my molars. “Yes.”

“Good. Wait here. I’ll print off a concussion care sheet.” He picks up the medical kit and strides from the room.

I crouch beside her chair. “You hanging in there, Rebel?”