Page 49 of Líadan's Code

“You need to understand that there are things that trigger Lía,” he says slowly.

“We talked a bit about them,” Jordan rumbles. “I’m sure there are other things I’ll need to know, and that’s fine. I operate on strict consent. If there is a safe word or something that will tell me when I’m riding too close to a trigger, then I want to know those too. I realized tonight I’m too deep to be saved when it comes to you, both of you. I haven’t had the slightest inclination to date, always taking care of other people. This time? I want to keep my people safe, but I don’t have the slightest intention of leaving after I’ve done that.”

“No?” I ask, my vision darkening as I try to figure out what that means. Stress and panic will do that to a girl, I guess.

“Breathe, baby,” Brendan barks. Stupid, stupid girl.

Sweet, sweet oxygen is dragged into my lungs as I gasp in a breath, nodding rapidly. Yeah, in and out. That’s what I need to keep doing.

“No,” Jordan says. “Your father dragged me down to the club, because he forced Layla to meet with him. The bastard sent a ransom note, making her dance to his tune. Only, the women in my life are apparently meant to misbehave, and she killed a man named Jack today.”

“Fuck. Jack-o!” Brendan crows, huffing out a laugh. “He was a bruiser of a man. You haven’t had a lot of interaction with him, Lía, but he came over from Ireland to work for your dad. Follows direction well, but a meathead.”

“Layla’s sister taught her how to fight recently,” Jordan chuckles. “She took him down with her knife. Fucking opened him up like a fish, and now your father is screaming about a blood debt.”

“A life for a life,” I grumble. “I don’t know how he’s planning to get her to repay that, but it won’t be pretty.”

“She and I will cross that bridge when we need to,” Jordan says with a shrug. What must it be like to have that kind of support? I don’t even know.

“Layla was upset that I didn’t reach out, but there’s spyware on my laptop. It’s the first thing I looked for. Every keystroke is being tracked.”

“Daddy is paranoid as fuck,” I sigh. “So where does that leave us? You should know before things go any farther, I can’t have kids. I got an infection…”

Jordan cups my face, lurching forward to kiss my lips hard. “I’m in my fifties, I’ve raised a kid already, Princess. I just want you. Though, I was thinking…”

“What?” Brendan asks. His eyes are wide and pupils blown wide as he gazes between us.

“I don’t know either of you well enough. If I were to do this the normal way, there would be dates and late night chats, but I’m in uncharted territory here,” Jordan says with a shrug.

“Lía is usually home more than she has been,” Brendan stresses as I blush. “She’s been hiding a bit. I can find a way to be here more for meals, even if it’s breakfast and dinners, and we do whatever people do to get to know each other. I’ve known Lía her entire life. I fell for her little squishy angry face when she was a baby. At some point, I fell in love with her and she became my world.”

“You two are so in sync. I feel as if I’m interjecting myself here,” Jordan mutters, sitting back down. “Christ, what am I even doing?”

“Oh no,” I say. “You started this very uncomfortable, very adult fucking conversation, you’re not allowed to quit now. So, I’ll say this: I hate men and most people. You’re the first person I’ve met that I didn’t want to stab or tell to get fucked. I know that sounds like a ridiculous reason to want to follow the thread of attraction, but that’s a big deal for me.”

“I’ve only ever had eyes for her,” Brendan says. “While we were torturing you, my cock was hard and leaking. When Lía wrapped her hand around your dick, I didn’t want to cut it off. My love language is feeding people that I care about, and if you’ve noticed…”

“You’re almost neurotic when it comes to reminding me to eat,” Jordan teases him. “Well, traditional relationships don’t mean much to me when I have a niece with several husbands, and Layla is probably going to follow in her sister’s footsteps. I don’t want to be selfish in wanting to pursue this if it’s going to fuck things up between you two though.”

“It won’t,” I say, knowing I’m right. “I’ve been a shell of a person for a really long time, and I don’t know how to explain it? You seem to pull emotions from me, some of which I’ve never felt before. I'll be twenty-three soon, and the term ‘dead inside’ is pretty accurate.”

“There are good reasons for that, Lía,” Brendan reminds me.

Sighing, I know he’s right. “After the infection, I tried to kill myself. Brendan doesn’t think I remember, but I do. I felt as if everything that could ever be normal had been taken away from me. My father went on a business trip right after everything happened, ignoring any evidence of what he’d done. Brendan made me promise never to do that again,” I rasp.

“He helped put me back together. Most days I feel like Frankenstein’s daughter, only it’s my emotions that have been cut off.”

“When Seán came home a month later, he made Lía undergo plastic surgery for the scars left on her skin by Bruin,” Brendan says. “Everything was swept under the rug as if it never happened, all the family members had non-disclosure agreements so they could never speak about that night, and any evidence left on Lía’s body was removed. Seán never spoke about it again, either, which is why it’s interesting that Bruin mentioned it at all.”

“Bruin isn’t normal,” Jordan grunts. “Your father had him programmed so he would follow his instructions, and he said that Bruin couldn’t feel pain at all.”

“No one can do that, though,” I say, unbelievingly.

“One person could, and he’s dead now,” Jordan says. “That’s way too much power for one person to have. When you make whatever move you’re planning on, kill him. As satisfying as you may think it’ll be to torture him, it won’t be. He won’t scream for you, though his blood will run.”

Jordan’s tone is flat and dead as if he’s talking about the weather or a new pair of shoes he plans to buy. There’s no inflection or emotion.

“That’s disappointing,” I grumble, making Jordan smirk.

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