Page 14 of Destructive Truths

“Easy.” Beibhinn’s hand falls to my shoulder. “You’re pretty beat, Rí. No sudden movements. You’re hooked up to an IV to help with the pain.”

My gaze follows hers, stopping when I see the needle shoved into my forearm.

“Wh-here did you get a fuckin’ IV?”

Bev rolls her eyes. “I’m the daughter of a crime boss, Rohan. So, while you boys were having all the fun, I was learning how to patch you fuckers up. Cause you know, there’s a vagina between my legs, so God forbid I wield a gun.”

Sarcasm drips from her statement, which is half bullshite. The truth is Beibhinn didn’t train with us, but that didn’t stop her from becoming a badass on her own merit. She’s a sniper, and she knows it.

“Take it out, Bev. S-Saoirse. I’ve to f-find her.” Fuckin’ hell, my mouth’s drier than a nun’s cunt. I push forward again, clenching my teeth when fiery pain explodes throughout my body.

Worry flitters across her face, and a heaviness creases her brow. “Jesus. Stop! You’re in no state to go anywhere. You look like you’ve gone ten rounds with Ali.”

“They could’ve hurt her.”

Beibhinn’s gaze flicks towards the doorway to where Liam is watching my pathetic display.

“Who’s they, Rohan?” she asks as Liam closes the distance between us with a question of his own.

“Where the fuck is she?”

Battered as I am, there’s no way I’m letting this tattooed gobshite speak to me like he’s God and I’m one of his disciples. “Choke on a bag of dicks, Devereux.”

Fury mars his face, shaping his lips in a bitter scowl. “Don’t press me, King. Or I’ll knock you the fuck out.”

My brow hikes up. Well, as far as it can rise with the sheer amount of swelling on my face. “Do it, pussy. We both know it’s the only chance you’ll get, considering I’m already halfway there.”

Beibhinn throws her head back, guides her hands into a prayer position, and then speaks to the ceiling. “Lord, grant me the patience I need to deal with all this Big Dick Energy. Because if you don’t, I’ll get charged with double homicide. Amen.”

“Swallow your pride, King. Where is Saoirse?”

“I’m not telling you shit.” I push down on the palm of my hand and scoot back until my spine greets the back of the pull-out couch in Beibhinn’s library, but the movement causes a fresh bout of pain. “Motherfucker. That stings.”

“Shit! I never cleaned your back.” Beibhinn’s eyes widen. “Liam, go get me some more bandages from the first aid kit,” she barks as she reaches for a basin of water and the bag of cotton balls from the side table. Suddenly, the distinct scent of antiseptic assaults my nose.

“I’m not going anywhere until he tells me where Saoirse is.”

Beibhinn explodes, fury lacing every word. “For fuck’s sake, Liam. Do it now! Unless you’d rather wash his wounds.”

If I weren’t in a world of hurt, I’d laugh at the disgusted look that takes over his features. “Fine. But when I get back, he’d better start talking.”

Liam turns on his heel, but I bite as he steps over the threshold. “That’s it, Devereux. Do what your little sister says.”

Beibhinn mutters something under her breath that sounds distinctly like “Help me, Jesus,” but I keep my eyes on Liam. His shoulders rise as he steadies his breath before stepping out of sight without another word.

“Why do you insist on riling him up?” Beibhinn prompts while burning my back with a cotton ball soaked in Dettol.

“It’s too easy.”

“You’re both intolerable. Two chauvinist pigs from the same farm.”

Silence falls around us, and I think back to Donnacha and the bullet hole in his thigh. He said Saoirse had shot him, but what else happened? Is she safe? Did Aodhán find her before something unimaginable happened? Fuck, I need to know she’s okay.

“Can I borrow your Rover?”

Beibhinn peers over my shoulder. “Are you concussed? You can barely stand, Rí. There is no way you’re fit to drive.”

“I need to find Saoirse and make sure she’s okay.”

---