Page 8 of Smooth As Whiskey

I lifted a brow, “Why on earth would I do that for?”

“Because you always get me something when you go to Imperial, and it’s our Tuesday date night. What movie are we watching?”

I giggled, all the while shaking my head.

Yes, I did get him food from Imperial.

The one time I forgot, he jumped on his bike in a torrential downpour and went and got his own.

But he almost didn’t make it back due to a car hydroplaning right in front of him.

The memory of that night forever cemented itself in my mind.

I smiled up at him and said, “After what happened the one time, I forgot. Do you honestly think I would forget again?”

“If it were someone else... then yeah. But since it’s you, then no.” He said as he tapped the tip of my nose.

And just like that, we walked to my room in the clubhouse.

“Go get comfortable. I’ll get what we need.” He told me as he took the bag of food from my hand and set it on the small desk I had in there.

After I pulled on a tank and pajama bottoms, I took the elastic from my hair and shook it loose.

Then, I wiped off my makeup and moisturized.

When I returned to my room, I saw that Irish had everything laid out on the top of my bed, his kutte was hanging on the back of my door, and his boots were off as well.

Once I got settled, we started to eat. He asked, “Can I ask you something?”

I had just taken a bite of my dumpling, swallowed, and then nodded, “Yeah, you know you can ask me just about anything.”

He smirked, fucker. “When you told us your story, why did you always full name that man? It’s something I’ve been wanting to know, but I didn’t want to put you in a bad place.”

I sighed, “Because if I didn’t, then he would beat me with a belt. But he only did it on parts of my body that my mother wouldn’t see. And I know what you're thinking: why wouldn’t I tell my mother what was going on?”

He nodded.

I sighed, then ran a hand through my hair, “Because if I ever told my mother what he was doing, he would carry out the threat to brand her with his name on her lower back. And he had a branding iron in his study. He showed it to me.”

“I can’t wait until I find that son of a bitch,” he grumbled so low that I almost hadn’t heard him.

But I had.

I lifted my brow, “Why are you trying to find him?”

“Because no one hurts you and gets away with it, Sutton. I already took care of Gerard. That fuckwad. And that motherfucker who wanted you for a wife. Now, all that’s left is that son of a bitch.”

At his words, I sat my container down and said, “Okay, I’m going to need you to break that statement down for me.”

Because I was close to hyperventilating.

If I understood him right, he’s already killed two men for me.

Me.

Holy. Shit.

He followed suit and sat his container down as well, locked his eyes with mine, and said, “Gerard was a piece of shit. He fucking pissed himself. The motherfucker who wanted you for a wife? He didn’t. In fact, he was already married. He wanted a mistress, and when he was tired of you, he was going to give you to his men to do with as they pleased. I couldn’t let a piece of trash like that keep on breathing.”

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