Page 71 of Stolen Rebel

“Huh.” She takes a drink.

“What?” Something about how she says the single word has the hair rising on the back of my neck.

“I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t feel like nothing.” I take a large drink. Feels like I need it. “If we’re going to be friends, you’re going to have to give it to me straight, Sorcha. Friends don’t lie to each other. Not real ones.” I wince. “And before you say it, I only said I was Erin to protect… well, everyone.”

Sorcha’s smile is sympathetic. “I know. It’s just… something my da said when he was being investigated a few years back. They moved a witness three times in as many months. Couldn’t risk routine.”

We go quiet for a few minutes. I’m not sure what to do with that information. It never occurred to me to question Brian. He told me he was keeping me safe, and I believed him. I was young, naive, scared, and would set myself on fire to keep Liam away from the trouble I’d gotten myself into. It never occurred to me to question the process. “He tracks me when I’m out, too. Even suggested one of those implant things to keep tabs on me.”

From the way her face puckers, I know she’s not thrilled. “Do you have someone you can escalate to? Does Brian have a boss?”

I shake my head. “Just him.”

She hums softly, as though that’s all the information I need. “Protection shouldn’t feel like punishment, Rowan.”

I shift in my seat, not enjoying how this conversation feels in my body. I did what I had to do to survive… didn’t I? “Sometimes you just do what you’re told. It’s easier.”

Another hum. “That’s what I told myself.” She goes quiet for a moment; it starts to feel like she might not give me anymore than that. “Fear can make compliance feel like loyalty. If someone’s protection costs you everything… it’s not protection. It’s ownership.” She gives me a sad smile. “Ask me how I know.”

So, I do. Over what feels like bottomless daiquiris and eventually a pizza, she tells me of her traumatic beginnings with Patrick and how he forced her to marry him after killing her entire family. It’s like something out of a TV show. By the time she’s finished, my chest is tight.

“We definitely had a journey from ownership to partnership, but it’s why this”—she waves her pizza slice at me—“is so familiar. I can spot a narcissistic arsehole from thirty feet away.”

She takes a bite and swallows. “You know what Patrick’s biggest fear was when we married?”

I shake my head.

“That I’d stay because I was scared of him.”

“Were you?”

“At first.” She shrugs. “But after some time, I stopped being afraid of him. You don’t have to answer, but are you still afraid of Brian even after all these years?”

My stomach falls. My first instinct is to defend him, to tell her he’s just doing his job, but something gives me pause.

Sorcha puts on another movie then falls asleep in the armchair, but her words keep me staring at the screen churning them over one by one. She’s right: Liam didn’t lose his shit at me, he didn’t take my phone, he hasn’t kept me alone here—I have free rein of the house, I can hang out with Maeve and Sorcha, and although I swerve Patrick most times, I’ve chatted to Darragh, too.

It’s like I’ve been given a ready-made family.

The cage around my heart falls away. Maybe the man I gave my heart to all those years ago doesn’t hate me. Could he still care about me?

The thought sends flutters through my whole body on a wave of heat. It’s no surprise he’s gotten more and more handsome as he’s gotten older. And if he wasn’t intent on being such a prick, it’d be hard not to throw myself at him when he enters a room.

Maybe the dangerous man isn’t the one who makes me feel small. Brian makes me feel… contained. Liam makes me feel like that old Rebel who wanted to jump out of a plane with a man strapped to her back.

The question is, do I trust him enough to jump?

Chapter 33

ROWAN

Since Brian took me away all those years ago, I haven’t been a heavy sleeper. When Liam kidnapped me… Well, I haven’t had a proper night’s sleep since. So, when a noise pulls me out of an accidental nap on the couch, my body is on alert.

If it wasn’t for the faint smell of sandalwood that meets my nose and the softest of touches pushing hair back off my face, I’d have bolted up off the sofa by now. Liam’s back from a last-minute business trip to France. Oh, how the other half live.

A blanket is pulled over my body, and then nothing. He doesn’t leave; I can still smell him, feel him, even with my eyes closed. Is he watching me?