Page 142 of King of Pain
I drag a hand through my hair and lean back against the couch. “Ronan died.”
Ant’s head jerks up. “What?”
I nod. “Heart attack. His second-in-command, Mickey Doyle, took over the Black Crows and immediately contacted Murph, then put out an order that I was untouchable—both within the Crows and, by extension, the precinct.”
Ant’s forehead scrunches in thought, and I continue, “Turns out, he was Ma’s high school sweetheart. He never stopped loving her. Hated my father with every fiber of his being and would have put him in the ground himself if I hadn’t done it first.”
I let out a breath, shaking my head. “If I’d known that, Ant—if I’d known that someone else would have done it—I think I would have let them. I wouldn’t have had to be away from you.”
Ant moves closer, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me against his chest. I go willingly, letting myself sink into the warmth of his body, the strength of his arms.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispers against my ear.
I close my eyes, inhaling him, letting the scent of him seep into my skin, into my bones.
Ant leans back after our embrace and shoves my shoulder. “I'm still pissed at you.”
I hang my head, fiddling with a loose thread on my jeans. “I understand.”
“I don’t. I don’t understand, Chance. Not really.”
I look up at him and sigh. “We need more tequila.”
Ant nods, then pats Little G on the head. “Yeah, we do.”
I grab both our glasses, then stand, gripping them in one hand and extending the other to him. “Come on, Beautiful. You can yell at me while I make drinks.”
Ant looks at my hand, then up to my face before finally taking it. As I pull him up, he stumbles forward, crashing into my chest. We’re suddenly pressed together, chest-to-chest, and I can feel his breath warm against my skin.
“Hi,” I say softly, focusing on the flecks of green in his eyes.My kryptonite.
I watch his throat work as he hesitates, then finally says, “Hey.”
Then he steps back quickly, shaking his head, and looks me straight in the eye. “It's not gonna be that easy, Sullivan. I'm not done yelling at you.”
I laugh, nodding toward the kitchen. “Come on then. Let me get some more tequila in me, and you can get started with all the yelling.”
We step into the kitchen, and I grab two shot glasses, filling them with tequila. Sliding one over to Ant, I smirk. “Bottoms up.”
His eyes flick down to my ass at the phrase, and I don’t miss it. “Okay, carry on with the yelling.”
Ant crosses his arms over his chest; those beautiful lips set in an unreadable line. “Your last text lives rent-free in my head. Do you know what that did to me? No explanation. Nothing. For all I knew, your mom died from any number of reasons, though I had my suspicions based on your reaction.”
I close my eyes and nod, guilt heavy in my gut.
“You could have at least told me something in that last text,” he presses.
I shake my head, raising my voice. “No. I couldn't, Ant. It was bad enough that you were even a contact in my phone.”
He scoffs, anger flickering like lightning through his eyes.
“You don't know the resources these organizations have, Ant. They might as well be FBI, CIA or any other agency in the alphabet mafia.”
His jaw drops slightly, and I continue, “They would not hesitate to use you to draw me out if they knew what you meant to me.”
Ant shifts uncomfortably, his gaze dropping to his shoes before snapping back up to me, and he yells with raw frustration. “You should have taken me with you! You could have kept me safewithyou!”
The pain in his voice hits me like a right hook. I just stare at him, stunned.
