Page 83 of Ruthless Reign

She recoiled, putting her hands up. “I didn’t get to that part, yet.”

“Mind sharing with the class, Vixen?”

When she was done, she had Hardin by the throat. Metaphorically. And actually, I think she had us both.

This girl.

This fucking girl, man.

I couldn’t help the light chuckle that escaped me as Hardin sank down into a crouch in front of her chair, peering up at her like a courtier before a queen. I couldn’t tell if he was furious or if he was about to offer his unwavering fealty to her for the rest of his miserable life.

I didn’t think he knew, either.

He cocked his head at her. “You beat him with a tire iron?”

“Just a little,” she replied with an innocent shrug that had my balls in a vice. “He shot Kaleb. I should’ve done far worse.”

“You could’ve been?—”

“But she wasn’t,” I interrupted Hardin, wondering when exactly he’d gotten so damn comfortable talking to her. He barely talked to Ma and Dad this much. I was the only one who got regular tongue lashings from my brother.

I scoffed, wincing when it sent a pang of discomfort through my chest.

“He really does care about you, doesn’t he?”

Both of them looked affronted by the question, but an idea was starting to take shape in my head. Hardin wasn’t going to like it. Becca might not, either, but I needed them to listen, anyway.

“What are you thinking?” Hardin asked.

“What if we asked him to meet?”

His eyes lit with black fire. “Have you lost your damn mind?”

“Just hear me out. We know he cares about Becca, right?”

No one argued that. Men didn’t go around blowing up entire fucking pubs filled with people to protect a woman they didn’t give a shit about. And while I wanted to skin him alive for taking out the Kents, I also knew it was likely the only reason Séamas didn’t find out about Becca’s or our involvement in the deaths of two of his men.

“We also think he might’ve not killed me on purpose, yeah?”

“Debatable,” Hardin grumbled.

I gave him a look.

“I think we should show him what Séamas did to you,” I told Becca, and she looked visibly ill, her pale complexion going a shade of green.

“He’s not getting anywhere near her,” Hardin seethed, his nostrils flaring as he glared at me and rose to his feet. “Forget it.”

“Think about it for just a second.” I pushed myself up to sit higher on the bed, trying to get level with him. “If he cares about her, maybe he’ll help. Maybe he’ll even take care of the problem for us.”

“I don’t like it,” Hardin argued.

“If he refuses to help us or anything about him seems false…fuck, if he even breathes wrong, you can kill him or take him, whatever you want to do. But I think we need to play this angle. It’d be a waste not to.”

“You really think he would kill his own father?” Becca asked skeptically and I didn’t miss how Hardin flinched at her words. She noticed it, too, but didn’t draw attention to it, sharing an oopsie look with me, instead.

I opened my mouth, but it was Hardin who answered her with a grudging sigh. “He might.”

And I knew he was thinking the same thing I was.

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