Page 60 of Dublin Devil

“Much better, thank you. My ribs are still tender, but the cuts and bruises are fading. Instead of eggplant purple, most of my body is now a sickly yellowish green.”

He gently slides his finger under my hair and examines the damage left by Vladmir’s ring. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more with this. Once it heals, I can refer you to a couple of talented plastic surgeons that could minimize the scar.”

I step back and let my hair cover the raw flesh left behind by my Bratva betrothed. “I’m thinking of keeping it. I know it’s gnarly, but it’s a symbol of survival, right?”

“A true battle scar.” The look Sean gives me warms me deep into the marrow of my bones. And the husky tone lacing his voice tells me he’s proud of me.

Doc Kelvin steps back and gathers his bag. “Then my work is done here. Until the next clusterfuck, I bid you farewell.”

Finn chuckles. “You’ve been spending too much time at the theater with your wife.”

Kelvin shrugs. “If watching men tromp around a stage singing puts me in the woman’s good graces, it’s a win.”

“Happy wife, happy life,” Laine says.

“Aye, that’s the truth of it, isn’t it?”

Laine and Finn walk Kelvin out, and the two of us are alone at last.

When he looks at me, he holds up his hands. “Don’t listen to Doc. I’m fine. Quinns are too tough to keep down for long.”

“Or too stubborn.”

“Both work.”

I roll my eyes, but there’s no heat in the look I give him. He’s too damned ornery to care, even if I were actually annoyed.

And really, what right do I have to voice an opinion?

Our time together was the collision of two worlds—a perfect storm of fate and injury.

Sean’s gaze narrows on me. “Where’d you go just then? And why do you look so sad?”

I glance around to ensure our conversation is still private and sigh. “This week has been incredible, but Ryan’s wake is tonight and the funeral’s tomorrow. Like it or not, it’s time to get back to my life.”

“That doesn’t mean you need to go back to that house. I can have you escorted to the wake and the funeral. Then, if your father tries anything, you can get out and be brought back to the north side where you’ll be safe.”

I reach up and cup his jaw, running my thumb over the scar on his lip. “I’ll be fine. I’m stronger than I used to be and see things clearer now.”

“And how do you see this playing out?”

I pat his arm. “Da will be furious with me, but he won’t upset Mam while she’s grieving. I’ll apologize that having choices in my life jammed him up, but be clear that I’m not sorry for refusing the Bratva. It was a cruel and cold misjudgment on his part.”

“I don’t like it, P. Your father isn’t firing on all cylinders lately. What if it goes bad and he turns on you?”

I shrug and take a step back, putting some distance between us. “Your brother called the Bratva boss in Russia, right? He’s soured the deal with Da?”

“Aye, Tag’s negotiating an agreement, but your father made big promises about how much product he could move. The terms the Russians expect to be met mean more weapons than Ireland can handle.”

“But Da isn’t part of that, is he?”

“Not that we know of, but nothing is locked down. If the Russians decide to go with your father, there isn’t much we can do about it.”

The concern lacing Sean’s words melts my heart, but the reality is, Russian deal or not, I can’t hide in Quinn Castle for the rest of my life.

“I’ll pay my respects to my family, pack my bags, and then, after everyone leaves the reception tomorrow, I’ll walk out the door.”

“And go where? You’re not planning to stay on the south side, are you?”

---