AllFreeNovel
Share Us
My pet.
“Easy there.” A strong, muscular arm raises horizontally. Killian’s bicep collides with my chest.
My head whips to him, my lust gone. There’s only anger there.
He’s in my way.
“Let me through,” I hiss.
Amara isn’t his, not the way she’s mine. Doesn’t matter if she wasn’t well, he should’ve stayed.
I don’t tell him any of that. This isn’t about us. It’s about her. About getting to her.
“I’m going to see her.” I shove his arm. He shoves me right back. Dick. My brow furrows as I level him, my gaze murderous. “You didn’t have to say it for me to understand she’s going through something. I won’t let her go through it alone.”
“You got it all wrong. She’s good,” Killian reassures me, and I stop fighting him. “She’s strong, but it’s more than that. You were there to help when it mattered. You killed him.”
When I pull back, our gazes clash. He’s had it figured out. Of course, he has.
“Any of our detectives came back with a lead?” Killian’s voice is harder than a diamond. Stating a fact that he’s had figured out as well.
That part surprises me even less. Killian and I are protective of what’s ours. Territorial to a fault. No one fucks with what’s ours and gets away.
And Amara is ours.
“I have his name. Charlie Smith. He could be known as Chuck.” The name tastes worse than dirt on my tongue. “I have men on it. Texted them as soon as Amara fell asleep last night. They’ve been to his apartment, and they’re digging as much shit as they can on him. So far, they came back with nothing other than he’s a nobody.”
“Okay.” The fact that I’m handling this soothes Killian’s rage. Now that it’s settled, he looks at the space over my shoulder, jerking his chin. “Let’s sit. We have more to discuss.”
We won’t be discussing last night, that’s for goddamn sure. This is business. It’s always business.
I move alongside him as we descend to the seats at the other end of the table. Both of us avoid Razor’s blood that’s dripping from the table to the marble floor. Killian doesn’t even scrunch his nose at the smell.
He’s used to it. As am I.
“What’s up?” I cross my ankle over my knee, steepling my fingers. “Any messes need cleaning up? Now’s a good time.” My eyes slide to the constant tap, tap, tap of Razor’s blood. “I’m on a roll.”
“Not done talking about Amara,” he says. “Is it possible you’ve been followed? Have you sensed something? Anything?”
“Let me get this straight.” His words strip me of any shred of amusement I may have had left. Indignance simmers beneath my skin. “You’re calling me reckless? With Amara’s life?”
“No.” A simple statement. A Killian sort of statement. “I’m sure you’ve been discreet. I’m aware of how much you care for her.”
Fucking love her. Much like I love you. Two things I’ll never admit to, simply because I don’t know how.
“You don’t need me telling you how vindictive the members here are.” Killian drags his chair toward mine, lowering his voice another octave. “We have to get ahead of this. And for that I need you to think.”
Out of fucking nowhere, he rests one hand on my knee.
This doesn’t happen in our small family of two. We don’t do hugs or pats on the back.
I’m a stranger to this type of intimacy. Amara does that, but not Killian. Never him.
The touch takes me by surprise. I stare at where his hand’s at. I feel its warmth seeping through my pants.
And I do nothing.
I thought I was ready for this moment. I’m not. I’m not equipped to deal with these fucking feelings. Not halfway prepared for the shot of arousal to my groin.
