Page 13 of Brutal Obsession

My entire world screeches to a halt.

The idea is so beyond absurd and impossible that I blurt exactly what I’m thinking. “Absolutely not.”

My words shock the room. They shock me too. I’ve never spoken back to Shane Gallagher once in my life.

The man tilts his head at me as a dangerous silence fills the room.

I scramble to recover. “What I meant to say is, my plate’s full. I’ve got to handle the Weldon delivery, the Prince Hotel drop-off, and?—”

“This takes precedence,” Shane says. “Darren, can you handle Cian’s work schedule in the short term?”

Darren nods.

Shane begins to dismiss the room, but I’m so desperate to keep this from happening that I step forward, despite how dangerously disrespectful doing so is.

“Finn should go.”

“As much as it pains me to admit,” Finn throws me a look, “I’m still not ready for any solo ops. My arm’s not back to one hundred percent yet.”

“Rory, then,” I rush on. “He’ll be able to track her better.”

“I need Rory here.” Shane silences the room yet again, his intense, scrutinizing stare drilling into my face. “His tracking skills are going to help us mount a counter-offensive.Youare the only one I can spare.”

“But—”

“Cian, if you ever make me explain myself to you again, I’ll cut off both your thumbs.” Shane always speaks with the ice-cold apathy of a deadly serious man. “Go pack your things. You’ll be on a plane to the islands tonight.”

“Understood.” Forcing those three syllables out is the hardest thing I’ve had to do in a long, long time.

Because…this can’t be happening.

That’s all I can think as I wander, like a lost man, to my suite on the third floor.

Going solo to pick up Harper is a terrible idea. I’m too vulnerable to that woman and her charms. And now that I know I’ve worried myself sick for nothing, that she ran away and ditched me on purpose? I’m so pissed that I can barely see straight.

I lost it during the mission tonight just from seeing aphotoof her. What’s going to happen when I’m alone with the living, breathing, real thing? Self-control will prove a tall fucking order if I get my hands on that woman.

My familiar suite appears foreign to me. The walls covered with books, the training and workout equipment I keep up here, the desk and office space, my small kitchen…

An unmistakable darkness roils beneath my ribs, and there’s no stopping what comes next. I’m too far gone.

I overturn furniture, rip glass and ceramics out of the cabinets until shattered crystal and porcelain layer my kitchen floor, and tear stuffing out of pillows. I’m about thirty seconds from setting fire to my bookcase when horror interrupts my meltdown, and the truth slams me in the face.

I’m doing a spectacular impression of my father. All that’s missing is a bottle of whiskey, a bludgeoned woman lying motionless on the floor, and a ten-year-old version of me watching through a crack in a closet door.

I lace my hands behind my neck and drop my head.

Why did Shane have to pick me?

My cell phone vibrates against my thigh. Someone already booked my plane ticket. The flight details blink up at me mockingly.

How the fuck am I supposed to keep my personal history with Harper Brennan out of this equation?

I want to do a good job, but the lack of closure from that night in the alley haunts me.

Why, I don’t know.

Harper and I aren’t friends. We aren’t lovers either. Except for that one night three years ago, we haven’t shared a single meaningful experience.

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