The drive home is short and quiet. Not many people know I live on the same street as Crow. I’ve followed him all my life. Ever since he found me in that bloody massacre of a church so many years ago. The memories are blurry at times, but occasionally sharp too.
I walk up the steps to my door and am greeted by the dog. When I collapse onto the sofa, she jumps into my lap and whines as she nudges me. I don’t know what she wants. I wish she would leave me alone, but I can’t bring myself to push her away.
“I suppose ye’re hungry again,” I tell her.
She whines in agreement and then curls up on my lap. It’s odd that it doesn’t bother me. I’ve never been around an animal before. But I know she’d never try to hurt me. So it doesn’t bother me.
My head falls back against the chair and I think of Sasha. The horrific thing that I’ve done which I’ll never be able to wash away.
The blood of others has never troubled me. I kill to protect the syndicate. Crow, Conor, Niall. The men who have been loyal to me. My brethren. But I’ve never hurt a woman.
I never wanted to hurt Sasha.
She didn’t come to me. She didn’t trust me enough to protect her from Donovan. Or to tell me that he knew our secret. I’ve been out of sorts since I learned the truth. I wanted to fault her for it. Shake her and demand that she tell me why. She was supposed to trust me. To understand that I would take care of her.
But now I know. I know exactly why.
She’ll never trust me again.
Two days come and go with calls unanswered before Crow comes knocking at my door. He lets himself in and sits down across from me.
The dog is in my lap, and he looks at her and then to me with a stupid grin on his face.
“I’m not keeping her,” I tell him.
“Ah sure,” he agrees. “She’s awfully fond of you though.”
I set her down on the floor and tell her to go away. She sits down and rests her head on my foot instead.
“Ye’re needed back at the club,” Crow says. “We have a shipment tonight, in case you forgot.”
“I haven’t forgot,” I tell him.
“Could have fooled me,” he says. “Being as I haven’t heard from ye in two days.”
“I’ve been busy.”
Silence falls between us, and I can’t look at him. Crow knows me better than anyone. He doesn’t judge me. Or blame me. He’s always let me be who I am and never asked me to change. But I’m still ashamed for what I’ve done.
“She’s fine, if ye’re wondering,” he says. “Mack’s checked up on her twice, as have I.”
I don’t reply, but his words make the tension in my muscles dissolve just a bit. Even if they shouldn’t.
“Do ye believe it would be the end of the world if you just talked to her, Fitz?”
“And what exactly would I have to say?” I reply.
“The truth. She could understand it if you gave her a chance to.”
“I still don’t understand it myself,” I tell him. “How can ye expect me to explain it to her.”
“Or that’s what ye like to say anyway,” Crow says. “Suit yourself.”
He stands and walks towards the door.
“Six tonight,” he says. “Don’t be late.”
I nod, and he pauses with his palm on the handle. “I guess it also won’t interest ye to know that Sasha wants to leave when her mom passes.”
I look up at him, trying to process his words. The tension that dissolved only moments ago returns with a new sort of pressure, and my head swirls with the frustration of trying to sort out this unfamiliar emotion.
“But as ye said, no point in talking about it,” Crow continues. “Just in case ye did care to know though, I told her yes.”
Chapter Ten
Sasha
I’m halfway between sleep and consciousness when I feel the weight of the bed dip. At first, I wonder if I’m dreaming. Because in my sleep addled brain that’s the only possibility I want to accept.
But when I catch the shadow of a man hovering over me, followed by his gloved hand sliding over my mouth, I try to scream. The hand clamps down tighter over my mouth, and all I can taste is the leather of his glove while I thrash beneath him.
He climbs on top of me and pins me with his weight, and tears leak out of my eyes unbidden. But when he leans forward, his scent lingers between us. Malt liquor and roasted pine nuts. And it has the immediate effect of calming me.
“Ronan?”
The question is muffled behind his glove, but when he senses me calming, he smooths my tangled hair away from my face. I can make out his eyes now in the dim light, wild with rare emotion. He isn’t wearing his glasses. And his suit jacket is missing, leaving only a crisp white button up stretched across his chest. His neck is corded, his breathing harsh. He’s angry. But I’m not afraid.
I reach up and pry his hand away from my mouth so I can talk freely.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. “How did you even get in?”