Page 94 of Ruthless Reign

The Impala idled at the foot of the yard, the driver’s side door hanging ajar, the taillights catching swirls of mist in the morning air, painting them shades of screaming crimson.

There was no sign of him.

If this was some kind of trick, I was going to rip this bastard’s heart out.

A dull thud against the front door broke the tense silence and Becca gasped, her face draining of color as she edged to the door.

“Hawk,” I warned, rushing for her, but she was faster as her fist closed on the handle and she opened it to the night.

I lifted my gun, ready to fire, but the threat wasn’t standing eye to eye with me. He was falling onto the mat in front of the door with a groan, his blonde hair catching with silver in the moonlight.

“Aodhán,” Becca cried, pulling him into the house while Kaleb swept the front porch and the road.

Aodhán let out a hitched growl when she tried to sit him up and I noticed the unnatural way his shoulder was dangling from the socket. Becca seemed to notice, too, releasing it to try to put him up by his middle.

“Help me,” she managed between heavy pants, her brown eyes wild as she took in the carnage of him.

Because that’s what it was.

There was a garish wound on his collar and some swelling to the right side of his face. Those seemed to be the worst of it aside from the mangled shoulder but he was absolutely riddled with tiny cuts and scrapes. He didn’t seem capable of standing on his own, but I liked him better that way. Less of a threat.

“Shit. I know that fucking car,” Kaleb said from the front porch. “It was you? Fuck, Vixen, did you know?”

It took a minute to figure out what the fuck he was talking about, but then I remembered where I recognized the car from.

Race night.

Aodhán’s car was the one that’d come out of nowhere to beat both Kaleb and our cousin Grey in the race.

Becca had the decency to look at least a little guilty as Kaleb muttered curses to himself, looking between Aodhán and the car like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “You fucker,” he spat. “I want a rematch.”

He trotted down the front stairs, sweeping the front lawn while I covered him. “You hear me? I want a fair fucking race.”

“Kaleb,” I growled as he approached the car and slung himself into the driver’s seat, but I realized what he was doing as soon as he shut the door. Aodhán’s car couldn’t stay there on the street. We couldn’t risk anyone seeing it. Knowing he was here.

Kaleb was going to find a place to ditch it or hide or maybe put the thing in drive with a brick on the gas pedal and throw it off a cliff. He’d searched for the ‘mystery’ driver for a week straight after race night. He wouldn’t fucking shut up about it.

I shook my head.

“Aodhán,” Becca said behind me, and I slammed the front door and locked it. I turned to find her gently shaking him. The bastard was half dead, barely there. “Aodhán, hey, wake up! What happened?”

His eyes rolled open, and he sighed heavily before the pain pinched in his face again, drawing lines in his forehead and between his eyes. He coughed, and I thought I saw blood on his mouth in the dark.

He reeked of smoke and metal.

“I.” He coughed hard, struggling to catch his breath. “I bought you some time, mo mhuirnín.”

And it looked like he almost killed himself in the fucking process.

Becca looked up at me, eyes damp and jaw set. “Will you help me or not?”

I cursed, tucking my gun into the back of my waistband before bending to help her with him.

I owed him this if he really had bought us the time we needed to wait for Diesel and the Crows to get here. But after this we were square. Just this. Nothing else.

“Careful,” Becca blurted as I hauled him to his feet, and I cut her a glare that I hoped conveyed that I was going to do whatever I needed to do, however the fuck I needed to do it if I was going to help him.

I disarmed him, removing a gun and two knives, tossing them to the floor before I dragged his half limp body to the table. Motherfucker was heavy as shit.

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