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Farrell’s mouth tipped into a dangerous smile. “No, I don’t think I will. She killed my brother.”
My gaze ratcheted to Fallon. She looked like a caged animal. She was trembling. Her hands were wrapped around his forearm where it tightened around her neck.
“Let her go, and you can take me,” I reasoned.
The other man sneered. “If I take you, all I can do is kill you. If I take her, at least I’ll be able to fuck her before and after I kill her.”
His words set off something inside me like I’d never felt before. The monster reared its dark head and roared. Without conscious thought, I lifted my gun and fired. Fallon screamed right before I pulled the trigger, and my eyes shifted to her for that split second to see that Farrell had pressed his gun to her side.
My bullet ceased all brain function before he’d even put his finger on the trigger—his body knocked backward. She fell with him, scrambling to free herself from his lifeless arm. She shoved herself away from his motionless body, staying on her hands and knees as she began to hyperventilate.
I fell to the ground beside her and took her in my arms. Burying her face in my chest, she wrapped her arms around my back and held on just as tightly as she had before. A dormant part of me woke with a snarl—the protective part I had thought long dead. I’d tried to hide it away completely after Ava, but it seemed that this woman could make me feel it wholly—completely.
Even though it felt strange at first, the more I held Fallon, the better she felt in my arms. She was sobbing now, her tears mixing with the rain as it fell on us. I stared at Farrell’s body, knowing that this changed everything. His vendetta against Fallon was a personal one, but I had killed another clan’s Reaper, and there would be hell to pay.
“Let’s get you in the car,” I told Fallon, gently lifting her from the ground. She weighed nothing at all, and I relished the fact that I could hold her close to my body—my body that wasn’t revolting at the thought of someone touching it. But Fallon wasn’t just someone.
Fuck, these thoughts were dangerous.
I couldn’t have her like I wanted to. I couldn’t take what was left of this woman’s innocence to satisfy some dark hunger in me.
What Icoulddo was protect her, though, like she had protected me.
I owed her my life.
After settling her in the car, I got in and turned over the engine. Positioning the vents so they were blowing on her, I said, “I have to take care of the body. I’ll be back in a minute.”
She’d gone into shock—staring blankly ahead. I didn’t even know whether she heard me or not. Shutting the door, I returned to the front of the house and dragged Farrell toward the front door. The bastard must’ve been the one to set the fire in the first place because his clothes caught alight as soon as he was within reach of the flames.
If the fire burned hot enough, his body would be unidentifiable in a few hours, and judging by how highly flammable he was, he’d used more than enough accelerant to get the job done. This far out of town, I doubted the authorities had been alerted yet. With one final look at the house, I jogged back to the car and got in.
“Where are we going to go?” Fallon asked in a hoarse whisper, not meeting my gaze.
I would’ve given anything to wipe the desolation from her voice. Shifting the car into gear, I said, “Oranmore.”
ELEVEN
FALLON
Shock. I was going into shock for the second time in as many days. My body felt like it was being pulled through the wringer, my emotions bubbling too close to the surface. Orin was driving us back toward Galway, toward the safe house. His hands were relaxed on the wheel and his eyes focused on the road. Water still dripped from his hair onto his face, but he looked cool and calm like he hadn’t just shot a man in the head.
My mind kept throwing out not completely irrational thoughts of what if he’d missed?
What if he missed his shot and shotmeinstead?
I could’ve been dead.
“You’re staring,” Orin said, eyes still on the road. “What is it?”
I licked my lips. “I was just wondering if I’ll ever be as okay as you are with …”
Killing someone. The words I couldn’t say lingered between us.
Orin knew though. His head whipped toward me—his black gaze narrowing on my face. “You think I enjoy taking life? That I’m heartless? Cold?”
“I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to,” he sneered. “I can hear it in your voice.”
