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I doubt I’ll ever get that chance after last night.
And certainly not if anyone finds out I’m here.
Not making a sound, I creep out my bedroom door and glance up and down the hall. Sean left the bathroom light on for me, so it’s not hard to find my way there. After the drinks at dinner and then tea to take off the chill, I’m desperate to pee.
The door across the hall is open a crack, but I fight the urge to peek in and see if Sean’s sleeping. I need to pee and get home before Da sends my brothers out searching for me.
They may not think to look on the north side of the Liffey but if Vladmir and Arkady tell them I ran across the bridge to get away from them, they’ll find out.
Sean has been decent, but there’s no guarantee Tag or the other brothers will be. I’m no safer here than I would be back home.
Not that I can go home.
After what happened, Da will be furious. There’s a good chance I blew the gun deal and that will fall at my feet. The sad thing is, given the choice, I would do the same thing again.
Not that I can tell himthat.
WhatcanI tell him?
“Sorry, Da, I wouldn’t lay down and open my legs for two ugly brutes who think they own me. Get the guns some other way.”
Da would beat me for disobeying him. A beating on top of a beating doesn’t appeal to me.
I wince and hold in a whimper as I bend to sit on the toilet and can barely believe that the hip and legs I’m looking at are mine. Last night, I didn’t even feel the damage to my legs, but this must be from when I crashed to the floor after going through the table.
Wow, fear and adrenaline really kept the reality of my injuries at bay.
It’s a struggle to get up, but I grip the vanity countertop on one side and the towel rail on the other. Biting back the pain, I manage to get to my feet.
I’m upright, but I won’t be winning any races today.
I finish in the bathroom, my mind spinning in circles as I step back into the hallway. Sean is there, shirtless, unshaven and looking sleepy, with his ebony hair tangled and tousled, hanging to his shoulders.
Sweet Mother Mary, my ovaries have just exploded.
Sean is even more ridiculously hot than I imagined. In high school, when we read Romeo and Juliet in English class, I had a few Capulet and Montague sexual fantasies.
Tag was too intense for me, Finn was quiet and a bit sulky, and the twins, Bryan and Brendan, were sexy but too crazy. Sean always played the part of my Romeo.
He was older, broody, tattooed, and carried a scar on the outside while I always carried my scar within. He’s dark and dangerous. The ultimate bad guy.
But that was a schoolgirl’s daydream. There is no way I could fantasize about him in the real world.
Quinns are off-limits to me.
Still, I’m about to melt into a puddle at his feet. With no shirt, there’s nothing covering the intricate fretwork of Celtic knotwork and fae gods covering his arms, chest, and back.
Does the masterpiece continue below the boxers?
“Are you all right?” His voice is graveled and husky with sleep. He runs his hand over his abs, scratching at the dusting of ebony hair trailing beneath the waistband of his boxers. “Did you get any sleep?”
I snap my attention back up to his face. “A little. I’m sore and feeling pretty rough, but I’m alive, thanks to you. And don’t worry. I was staring at the ceiling, thinking of where I can go,and I have a plan. I’ll be out of your hair first thing in the morning.”
He frowns. “Where you can go? You’re not planning to go home to your father?”
“No.”
His gaze narrows. “Why did you flinch when I mentioned going home? Did your father do this to you? Is that why you crossed the bridge?”
