Page 6 of Ruthless Savage

I often remember the night she kicked me out of the house once I got out of jail.

I had come home after having just killed someone, blood on my knuckles, my shirt. As soon as I walked in, she was there sitting in the kitchen, the lights off until she turned them on.

I didn’t notice the luggage beside her, not at first. But then she told me how she knew I was never going to change and how I was going to destroy my brother’s life in the process.

I don’t want to lose the only son I have left, she said.

Hearing that had hurt, but she wasn’t wrong. I was a feck-up. I’d always be a feck-up.

After I left, I had stayed with one friend, then another, until I had some money saved up from the shite I was doing. By twenty-one, I decided I needed to get out of Ireland and out of my family’s life. Where they could be safe from me.

I landed in California, but I wasn’t alone. It broke my parents’ heart when my brother decided to follow me, but he didn’t see me the way they did. I should have told him to stay, but instead, I was happy he was coming with me. Happy that someone in my family actually gave a shite about me.

Now they’re all gone.

And I’m alone.

Mom wasn’t unkind growing up. I had good parents, but I had become a disappointment, and I don’t blame them for hating me in the end.

Because I hated myself too. If I’d been different, Keegan would still be alive.

The door opens, and I look to find Officer Doyle stopping at the threshold.

“She’s back, McHale.” He lifts a gray brow. “Either go see that poor girl or tell her to stop showin’ up.”

Worry gnaws at me. Why is she here today? She doesn’t usually come for another week. What if something happened after she wrote that letter?

I can’t just abandon her. I need to see her.

But the very thought of being around her after all this time…

Hell, I have to stay strong. I can’t show her what she does to me: completely unravels every messed-up inch of my heart.

With a groan, I rise. “Fine.”

“Man of many words.” He laughs.

He’s the only one who tolerates me. Not sure why. I barely talk to him. Barely talk to anyone. I prefer to use fists. That’s the only language I’ve ever known.

He slips the cuffs on me, and together we step into the hall, walls of prison cells lining both sides. Taking the stairs, we make it around the bend. He scans his card, opening the double doors before leading me into a room filled with people sitting around white tables.

I don’t see her at first, inspecting the vast space like a hungry man starving for air. And when our eyes connect, my heart rips right out of my chest. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her, I’m not even sure if she’s real.

My fingers tighten into a fist. All the air completely evaporates from around me.

She’s here. This beautiful goddess only has eyes for me, and this immediate possessiveness nabs me whole. I’d do anything for her. Kill anyone who hurts her. It’s that simple.

Her chestnut hair spreads across both shoulders, slight waves at the ends, glistening and soft. She’s in a light pink blouse, a button popped above her small breasts. I shouldn’t even be thinking about them, but here I am, dreaming of us in bed together, her eyes on mine as I wrap my mouth around a nipple and suck.

“Keep it moving.” Doyle pushes me from the back.

I hadn’t even realized I had stopped walking.

“Mm-hmm.” With a grumble for a response, I continue forward.

Her radiant gaze is a blend of peridot and the wild green ocean. A rarity in all her glory. Yet I can’t touch or taste her. This is all we’ll have: stolen glances and torn hearts.

I should gouge out my own eyes for the things I’m doing to her in my mind, but I’ve never been a righteous man. Never even wanted to be, not until her.

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