Page 29 of Destroy Me
With the fire racing up her side, Lyse kinda doubted that, but she didn’t argue. Especially not when Fionn came in the back door. He eyed her across the room, seeming to assess every part of her while he wiped his boots on the mat just inside the door. There was something in that look—she couldn’t pinpoint what, but something different. As if he knew something she didn’t. It itched under her skin, that look. And then Siobhan walked between them to set Lyse’s plate on the table and the moment was broken.
The shepherd’s pie was one of Lyse’s favorites. Siobhan made the best in the village; Lyse should know since she’d had it almost everywhere. That and fish and chips. No one made fish and chips like the Irish. She could eat her weight in fried fish and shepherd’s pie. Tonight, though, the meds hit her about halfway through the meal and the room went hazy. Her attention faded in and out until Fionn mentioned Deacon’s name.
Her heart thumped into her throat. “Deacon’s coming here?” Facing Fionn had been the most difficult thing she’d ever done. Facing Deacon came a close second. She’d respected the man for years. Seeing hatred in his eyes might be more than she could handle right now.
“He is.” Fionn watched her, seeming to see everything she wanted to hide. “He texted me a bit ago. He and King are on their way.”
“King Moncrief?” Part of Elliot’s team at JCL Securities. Deacon and Fionn’s team at Global First had been decimated by Mansa months ago; it made sense that Deacon would tap a friend of his fiancée’s to help.
“That King.” Fionn took a bite. “Should be here midmorning.”
She nodded, trailing her fork through what was left of her dinner. There was nowhere to run this time, nothing she could do to avoid the pain. Not if she wanted to help keep Siobhan safe.
She managed a couple more bites before setting her fork down. “I think I’ll get a shower if that’s all right.”
Siobhan reached out when Lyse would’ve picked up her plate. “Leave that for me, dear. I’ll take care of it.” A smile played around her lips. “You’ll be needing to wrap that bandage so it stays dry. Fionn can help you with that while I’m taking care of the kitchen.”
Fionn shot his mother a look, part shock, part frustration. He had nothing to worry about. Lyse doubted she was playing matchmaker between her son and the woman who’d almost killed him. She looked a little harder at Siobhan. Then again… No, surely not. Likely she thought Fionn had seen it all already with them sleeping in the same room.
Would he be cuffing her tonight, with her injury? God, she hoped not. Sleep was going to be uncomfortable enough as it was.
“I left the supplies to change her bandage afterward on the chest in your room,” Siobhan was telling Fionn. Lyse refused to look at him again, not wanting to see distaste in his eyes. He wouldn’t want to be looking at her.
Then again, she couldn’t deal with the bandages on her own, not where they were. She shrugged, then winced when pain shot through her side. Not checking to see if Fionn was following, she headed for their bedroom.
Their bedroom.Jesus. Dangerous thought.
Booted steps followed her down the hall. In the room Lyse walked to her side of the bed, sat, and lifted the edge of her shirt.See? No big deal. Nothing intimate about this. At all.
Fionn knelt before her and placed his warm palm on her belly. She flinched, less from the discomfort and more from the heat. Why did he have to be so warm? It made her want to curl up against him like an electric blanket.
Okay, not just like an electric blanket, but still…
“Looks good so far,” Fionn said, eyeing the bandage, then her upthrust arm. “That can’t be comfortable.” He stood and turned to the supplies laid out on the chest. “Take off your shirt.”
“What?” Her arm bumped into her wound as she dropped it, drawing a grunt of pain from her. “I’m not taking my shirt off.”
Fionn threw her a look over his shoulder. “Take it off. This’ll go easier. It’s not like I haven’t seen tits before.”
Tits?“Seen what?”
Approaching her again, this time with tape and scissors in hand, Fionn raised an eyebrow. “Tits. Ya know”—he gestured toward her chest—“breasts. Whatever you wanna be calling ’em.”
Lyse gripped the hem of her shirt like she thought Fionn would force it off her. Which was ridiculous. Really. But she couldn’t let go. “‘Tits’ is considered vulgar in the States,” she said, sounding prissier than she’d meant to.
Fionn gave her a wicked grin. “Like pussy?”
Lyse choked.
Now he outright laughed. Her cheeks were hot, and she knew she was red as a beet. “It’s better than some things I could be calling ’em,” Fionn said. “I call it a cock, not a penis; you’ve got tits. Believe me, it’s not an insult. I love tits.” He gestured up with the hand holding the scissors. “Shirt. Off.”
“Was that supposed to make me feel less self-conscious?”
Fionn growled at her. “Just take the fecking shirt off.”
Lyse took a deep breath, squeezed her eyes closed, and whipped the shirt over her head. Pain shot through her side. “Ow ow ow ow!”
When the ringing finally died in her ears, she realized Fionn was beside her again, his hand in hers, letting her squeeze. Thank God his hands were so big or she’d probably have broken his fingers. “That hurt like hell,” she wheezed.
