Page 89 of Stolen Rebel

“Look at me.”

I do. I can’t look anywhere else but at his beautiful face.

“You didn’t know?” I hate how shaky my voice is.

“Know what?”

“That he tied me to her. That this was revenge.”

His expression answers before his words do. “No,” he says. “If I had known, I would have⁠—”

“What?”

His jaw flexes. “Handled it differently.”

The understatement of the century. That’s Mafia Code for he would have ripped Brian’s intestines out his belly button and tied them into a fucking bow.

Silence stretches between us, thick and heavy and full of questions.

His hand moves to where mine still lie on my lap, and he strokes my bare skin with his thumb. He clears his throat, his face contorting like he’s swallowed something tart. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Did it hurt?”

He blinks. “What?”

“The thinking.” I tilt my head. “Did it hurt? Do you need your fancy doctor friend?”

For a second, he just stares at me, then a huff of incredulous laughter escapes him. “Christ, Rebel. I’m trying to apologize here.” He drags a hand through his hair.

“For what?”

I think I know, but I want him to say it. He deserves to say it out loud and for it to hurt. This man doesn’t apologize easily, but I’m owed, and I’m going to collect.

He shifts closer, his forehead almost touching mine. “I am sorry. I should have told you that the murder you thought you saw was fake before I fucked you. I just…”

“Let your dick do the thinking?”

He ducks his chin. “Yeah. That.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

A faint blush steals over his cheeks. Liam never blushes. Never. “I fucked up, and I’m sorry.”

I smooth a thumb over his scar, the scar he believed for years was there because of me. Because of a betrayal that never was. Fresh hate for Brian rushes through me. I don’t care what his reasons are; the man destroyed my life, and Liam’s. He stole five years from both of us. He deserves what’s coming for him.

Liam captures my hand, stilling me. “If I’d found you inside that pub watching him instead of outside.” His voice drops. “I would have spanked your arse until it was raw.”

Heat blooms low in my stomach. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Mahoney.” I don’t look away, holding his charged stare with one of my own.

His eyes shift to relief, hunger, that familiar flare of desire crackling louder than the flames flickering next to us.

“Not much scares me, Rebel, but that did.” He caresses my cheek with a painfully tender touch. “You have no idea what that did to me.”

“I heard it in your voice.”

His thumb brushes my jaw.

“This isn’t going to land well, but you don’t get to decide what I can handle, Mr. Mafioso.”