Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
He concentrated on breathing while he took inventory of his injuries. He’d have a black eye for sure tomorrow—Mother would love that—and more bruises than he cared to count, but nothing seemed to be broken. Thank Christ for small mercies. Does James know his people are slipping his hold? Does Carrigan?
A worry for another day. He braced himself and sat up.
“You shouldn’t be moving.” Olivia, his unexpected avenging angel, hovered nearly close enough to touch, but made no move to help him other than checking over her shoulder, presumably to make sure the Halloran men hadn’t changed their minds and come back for round two.
“I’m fine.” Mostly fine. The alley was spinning a little in a way that sure as hell wasn’t natural. He touched the back of his head and winced when his hand came away bloody. “Shit.”
She sat back on her heels, the shotgun carefully pointed at the ground away from him. “Let’s get you into the bar.”
The order surprised him. She obviously didn’t like him that much, sex aside, but if she was the type of woman to charge into an alley to defend a man she barely knew, it stood to reason she’d want to make sure he didn’t lie back down and die in that same alley.
His pride reared up and took control of his mouth. “I’m okay.” It was only a few blocks back to the house. He should be able to make it there and convince one of the men to patch him up without telling anyone how bad he must look right now. They did this sort of thing all the time.
“You’re bleeding from your head and weaving even though you’re sitting down. You’re not okay.” She hesitated. “Look, I didn’t actually call the cops, and if those guys come back, it’ll mean trouble for both of us.”
That got him moving. It was one thing to put himself in danger. It was entirely another thing to bring her into it. She was an innocent bystander, and even in his line of business, innocent bystanders weren’t something to just mow down. Devlin was as innocent as they come, and that didn’t save him.
Fuck off.
He used the brick wall to struggle to his feet, and nearly toppled over when the asphalt beneath him tilted. Olivia was there, sliding beneath his arm and keeping him upright. Cillian took a deep breath and got a face full of lavender and vanilla. How the hell did she manage to smell so good after working a full shift in a pub? He took a step, having to lean on her more than he wanted to. “Maybe I’m not completely okay.”
“No, really?” She guided him inside, pausing to set the shotgun aside and lock the door behind her. “You don’t have the sense God gave a toddler.”
He wouldn’t know. He didn’t exactly spend a lot of time around kids since he’d stopped being one himself. He tried to picture a toddler and came up with a grubby little Tasmanian Devil. “I think you just insulted me.”
“Only a little.” She pulled out a chair. “Sit. I’ll grab a rag and see if we can clean you up.”
“Why are you doing this?”
She’d already turned away, but her shoulders tensed at his question. “Because if you bleed all over Benji’s floor, he’ll never let you through the door again.”
That wasn’t what he meant, and she had to know it, but she was already gone, disappearing into the back. He braced his elbows on the table and did his damnedest not to let the nausea that made his stomach lurch have control. She was right. The big bar owner would be pissed as hell if he showed up tomorrow to bloodstains on the wood floor. But there was more to it than that.
He waited until she reappeared with a few washcloths in her hand to say, “You didn’t have to help me.”
“I know.” She set the cloths on the table. “This isn’t going to be pleasant.” She gingerly touched his head, sifting her fingers through his hair as she searched for the wound. He could have helped her find it immediately, but the feeling of her touching him—even in such shitty circumstances—felt too good to cut short.
I’m a fucking creep. Enjoying her running her fingers through my hair when I’m bleeding and bruised all to hell. Classy.
She found the spot his head had met brick wall and felt around. “It’s a little gapey, so it might need stitches, but I should be able to get the bleeding stopped at least. Hold still.”
Easier said than done. But he kind of liked her taking care of him, so he obeyed while she folded up a washcloth and pressed it carefully against his wound. It hurt like a bitch, but Cillian managed to keep his curse internal. Barely.