Page 104 of Ruthless Reign

“Kidding,” I said, leaning in conspiratorially with a wink. “Mostly.”

She followed me out at the same time Hardin exited the bathroom with a plume of steam trailing behind him, a towel hung low on his hips. Becca paused to stare and I caught my brother’s smirk as he brushed past her into his room. She watched him go, licking her lips.

“No time, Vixen,” I said with a mock apology, tugging her along with me. “Dad’ll be here any minute.”

As we entered the dining area, we found Aodhán sitting upright on the dining table, trying to roll his shoulder, shaking his head as if trying to clear his vision.

Becca was across the floor and over to him in an instant. “You shouldn’t move it,” she was saying. “It was dislocated. Well, and shot. But we got the bullet out. How are you feeling? Do you need?—”

“Take a breath,” I interrupted with a laugh, handing Aodhán a glass of water.

He drank greedily, draining it in three long swallows before setting it next to him on the table.

“I’m alright, mo mhuirnín,” he told her, setting his hand atop hers where it rested on his knee. “Do—” he started but stopped, his cheekbones flaring. “Do you have a shirt I could…”

Fuck. Right. His scars.

“One sec.”

I grabbed a plain slate gray tee from my closet that I never wore anyway and handed it to him.

He lifted an eyebrow at the scraps of Becca’s torn shirt holding up his arm and carefully removed them to put the tee over his head.

“You should keep a sling on. I can grab you something,” I offered, already starting to turn, but he was shaking his head.

“No. That shit happens all the time. This shoulder’s bad for it. Just needs icing.”

Becca took that as a direct order, racing to the freezer for a bag of frozen peas.

Aodhán gave her a thankful grin as he took the peas and set them over his shoulder without so much as a grimace.

I wondered if the fucker even felt pain like a normal person after all that he was subjected to over the years.

“Who do I have to thank for the…” He waved a hand to the stitches along the side of his neck and his bandaged shoulder.

Hardin exited his bedroom and froze as he and Aodhán locked eyes.

“Hardin patched you up,” Becca answered him and my brother strode over, his jaw set.

A muscle in Aodhán’s temple twitched but he inclined his head in gratitude, saying nothing.

“Dad’s here.” Hardin jerked his chin to the door.

It was seconds before Dad came in without knocking, Zade tight on his heels.

Behind him, I could see three other Saint vehicles stationed up and down the street.

“What’s with the entourage?’

Dad fixed his icy stare on Aodhán, seeming to appraise him as if he were trying to decide where to lay his bets.

He cleared the distance in three long strides, reeled back and threw his fist into Aodhán’s face.

Becca’s hands flew to her mouth with a short squeal.

She threw herself between Aodhán and Damien as the Irishman picked himself back up and spat blood onto the floor.

“Damien, what the fuck?” Becca glared at him, her arms out.

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