It’s nearly dawn, so I can just make out his features in the early morning light. His face is contorted in pain. And I want it to stop. I don’t want him to live through this agony anymore.
My mistake from last time is still fresh in my mind and makes me consider my next move carefully. I crawl from the bed and stand at the end of it, so there’s enough distance between us if my waking him does trigger a reaction.
“Ronan,” I call out.
He doesn’t stir from his nightmare, so I call out to him again. And on the third time, his eyes snap open and he sits up in bed, drenched in sweat while his eyes dart around the room looking for threats. When they land on me, they fill with confusion and then disappointment.
“Hey.” I walk over to his side and crawl onto his lap. “It’s okay.”
He won’t look at me. His eyes are dark and closed off and far away. He’s angry with himself. I place my palms on his jaw and tilt his face up so he has to meet my gaze.
“Come back to me,” I tell him as I smooth my fingers over his skin in a soothing gesture. “Always come back to me. We can slay those demons together.”
His arms wrap around my waist and he buries his face in my neck, breathing me in. When he speaks, his voice is filled with a conviction that doesn’t leave any room to wonder.
“I’ll always look after ye, Sasha,” he says. “Protect you. You never have to worry about that. Nobody will ever hurt ye again.”
“I know,” I whisper.
And then I kiss him. Because I know he means it.
There isn’t a thing on God’s green earth that Ronan Fitzpatrick wouldn’t do to protect me.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Ronan
I’ve just turned on the shower when there’s a knock at the front door.
Before I can even get my briefs back on, Sasha calls out as she walks down the hallway.
“I’ve got it.”
I call out to her and tell her not to answer, but I know it goes unheard through the wooden door. I’m right behind her and only half dressed when she opens the door to Crow. He blinks at her for a second, and relief washes over his face when he sees her standing there. Then his gaze moves to me, and immediately, I know this visit isn’t bearing good news of any sort.
“Sasha.” Crow dips his head at her. “I didn’t realize you were here.”
She doesn’t catch the strain in his eyes or shoulders, and I’m glad for it. But there’s still the potential for my lie coming unraveled, and I haven’t any idea what I’m supposed to do.
“What do ye need?” I bark at Crow.
Both him and Sasha look at me in surprise.
“I need a word with ye in private,” Crow answers, his gaze roving over my unkempt state.
He’s smirking now.
“Looks like I caught you two playing house,” he adds.
Sasha gives him a funny look and then glances in my direction.
“We can speak outside,” I tell him. “Just give me a moment and I’ll meet you out there.”
“I can wait here,” he says. “It’s fecking freezing out there this morning.”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” I argue.
“Ronan?” Sasha walks towards me and rubs her hand over my arm. “It’s okay. I was going to hop in the shower anyway.”
I’m relieved when I don’t see any questions in her eyes. I’m not ready for her to leave. And I’m not sure now that I ever will be. She leans up on her toes and kisses me on the cheek, right in front of Crow. It’s only after she’s walking away that I’ve worked out it doesn’t bother me. Crow clears his throat, tearing my attention back to him.
“What’s she doing here, Fitz?”
“That’s not your concern,” I answer.
“What’s got your knickers all in a knot?” he asks. “It was an honest question. She was supposed to be leaving, last I heard.”
I glance down the hallway and gesture for him to sit down. He does. Daisy sniffs at him and he pats her on the head a couple of times before she jumps onto my lap.
“She’s just staying with me for a bit,” I tell him. “It’s not a big issue.”
“Ronan,” Crow says in a solemn voice. “I came here to tell ye that Andrei knows about her.”
“What?” My eyes snap up to his. “That’s not possible.”
“Anything’s possible,” he says. “And he does.”
“How do ye know this?” I ask.
He glances at the floor, and his eyes glaze over. “Someone attacked Jasmine after she left the club last night,” he explains. “And dumped her body in the alley for us to find this morning.”
He hands over his cell phone, and I stare at the photograph of the mangled dancer. The butcher has left his calling card all over her body, and even to someone such as myself it’s a shock of violence. I’ve no stomach for this sort of act being carried out on a woman. But the most disturbing thing about it, and the one I can’t look away from, are the words carved into her chest.
Where’s Sasha?