Page 23 of Wicked Devotions: Part 2

“I’d knock but…” he says with a smirk.

I roll my eyes, still irritated with Declan over his stunt with the door. “You could put it back on, you know?”

“No. I don’t think I can.” He smiles smugly. “I wouldn’t want to go against the wishes of the homeowner.”

An inelegant snort escapes me. “As if you don’t piss him off at least twice a day.”

“He’s a prickly bear, it’s easy to do.” He stands up and offers his hand.

The boyish grin he gives me when I take his makes my stomach flip pleasantly. In a world where everything feels so heavy and dark, I’m so glad I have him to bring levity and light. I just hope I bring him the same level of comfort. I know there’s more to him than he shows, shadows that lurk in the depths of his dark brown eyes.

He locks up behind us as we leave the house, engaging the new alarms. I wait for him beside his Ducati as I put my helmet on. He swats my butt as he steps past me to climb on his bike, kicking the kickstand back. I climb on behind him and wrap my arms tightly around his torso.

Sometimes I wish I could ride with him without a helmet, just so I could rest my face against his back and have that closeness between us. All the guys would flip if I tried it though, even Cyrus. I don’t want to upset them anymore than I already know I will tomorrow.

The ride to the barn goes by quickly. I can barely restrain myself from running to Annie’s stall. I was worried she’d still be out in one of the pastures, but as soon as she hears my voice, she’s poking her head through the stall gate with her ears pointed forward. She gives me a happy knicker of greeting as I reach in and give her a few pets and run my fingers through her forelock. Her ears turn back as Cyrus approaches us from behind.

“Easy girl,” he says quietly. “I brought you something special.”

My eyes widen as he pulls a carrot from his pocket. He snaps it in half and then breaks those two pieces into two more. Annie looks at him with a healthy dose of skepticism, but she can’t resist the siren song of fresh carrots. I watch as he offers the treat to her in a flat, open palm and she accepts. The resulting crunches are so satisfying to listen to. But it’s the fact that she lets him run a hand over the star on her forehead that surprises me the most.

So far she’s taken treats from him but only mildly accepts his presence near me. This is a big step, and as his lips curl into a smile, my eyes sting. I turn away to go get the riding gear, silently berating myself for being so soft all the time. Seeing one of my boyfriends pet my man-hating horse shouldn’t make me tear up.

I feel two strong arms wrap around me while I continue to silently berate myself. “There’s nothing wrong with being sentimental and soft,” Cy whispers in my ear.

“How did you know that’s what I was doing?”

“Just a feeling. You and I are so similar.”

“No, we’re not. You’re strong and sure of yourself. I feel like a baby deer that’s just been born. Unsteady and unsure of the world around me.”

“We’re just at different places on the journey. But we have the same destination.” He kisses my cheek and lets me go. “Go ride your man-hating horse and lose yourself for a couple hours. I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

The driveto the prison where my father is being held somehow manages to be the longest and shortest trip. My stomach is in knots as I sit beside Cillian as the gates slowly open for us to park. I check my phone again for any messages from Cy about leaving this morning. This time I left a detailed note and told him I’d be with Cillian and that I’m safe.

The thing is, though, I don’t feel safe. I know Cillian won’t let anything happen to me, but I know my father. He can strike without lifting a hand. One well-honed insult is deadlier than any physical force he could summon.

“Are you sure about this?” Cillian asks as he turns off the car. “We can turn around at any point and leave.”

“I’m sure.” My voice sounds much steadier than I feel. “I need to do this.”

That much is true. I owe myself this confrontation with him. He needs to be held accountable for more than just crimes against the government and strangers. I want him to look me in the eyes and tell me that my suspicions are correct. That he auctioned me off to some pervert like I was nothing more than an expensive piece of jewelry.

“Alright.” Cillian looks out the windshield for a beat and then back at me. The look in his eyes, a shade lighter than his son’s, is fierce. “But remember that you are in charge. If you want to leave, we get up and go with no questions asked.”

“Got it.” I force my lips to lift in a half smile, crossing my fingers that it’s enough to appease him.

The next few minutes are spent emptying our pockets and checking in at the visitors’ desk. Then we’re led down a hall with greenish gray painted cinder block walls to a room with a metal door and a guard standing outside. I watch with curiosity as Cillian slips him a few folded hundred-dollar bills and they exchange a wordless nod.

What the heck is that about?

I don’t have too much time to wonder though, because seated inside the room with his ankles shackled to his chair is my father. His hair has more gray than I remember, but he’s filled out over the months he’s been incarcerated. There’s probably not much to do, aside from read and work out, so I guess it makes sense. His icy blue eyes stare right through me as Cillian leads me to the table and pulls out a chair for me.

Even though a knot has formed in the back of my throat, I hold his gaze as defiantly as I can. I refuse to cower to him. He’ll never see me afraid again.

“Well, well,” he finally opens his mouth to speak. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“We have a few questions about Annabelle and Harper.”

---