Page 71 of Stolen Rival
“No.”
He gets to live another day then.
“He’s angry, Patrick. Possibly grieving too. He worked for Dylan for a long time. And people who are angry and grieving don’t always think through their actions.” She purses her lips. “Ask me how I know.”
Another dose of regret settles in my bones. Not for taking action against the McCarthys, but for the pain and suffering I caused a young woman who didn’t deserve it. Words that sound like apologies bubble to the surface, but I can’t bring myself to say them. I’m not proud of that. I’ve closedmyself off for so long that I have no idea how to open up, not even a sliver.
“You leave Andrew to me. I have it under control.”
“Control, your favorite thing.” She shrugs. “It’s your call.”
Yet another thing she’s noticed, my inherent need for control. I’ve never come across someone as young as her who is that astute. It’s… intoxicating.
It’s dangerous. To me, that is.
Pivoting, she begins to walk away again.
“Sorcha?”
She stops then glances over her shoulder. “Yeah?”
“Thank you for telling me.”
She smiles and something shifts in my chest. “You’re welcome. See? Good manners aren’t all that hard after all. And you did that one all by yourself.”
By the time I shower and dress for dinner and make my way downstairs, Sorcha is already waiting. I sweep my gaze over her and nod my approval. She picked up on the standard of the restaurant we are visiting this evening without me explicitly pointing it out, and her attire is perfect. The ankle-length, fitted navy blue dress shows the right amount of cleavage and nips in beautifully at the waist, then flares over her generous hips. She’s paired it with a strappy sandal, and her red hair lies in loose waves over her shoulders.
“Blue suits you, and I like what you’ve done with your hair.”
It shows how starved she must be for compliments when she beams so broadly. I’m surprised her face doesn’t split in two. God, I’m such a bastard.
“Thank you, Patrick. I’m glad you like it.”
I’d like it even better with the dress on the floor and her hair wrapped around my fist. Unfortunately, my brothersand Andrew choose that moment to appear and ruin my fantasy.
“Ready?” Liam asks.
“Yes.” I press my hand to Sorcha’s lower back as we leave the house. “You’re riding with Liam and Darragh.”
“Why?”
Liam arches a brow at Sorcha questioning me, and there’s an audible intake of breath from Andrew. Darragh merely grins. I lean down, putting my mouth next to her ear and lowering my voice enough so no one else can hear. “Because I’m traveling with Andrew, and I don’t want you in the car with him after what you told me earlier. Your comfort is paramount.”
Her eyes soften, her hand flickering to her throat. “Thank you for thinking of me.” She hesitates, then touches my arm. “Be careful.”
The idea of Andrew being able to hurt me in any way is comical, but her concern is touching enough that I don’t laugh. It’s another sign that we might have just taken a step forward to a more amenable phase of our relationship. “I will.”
Releasing her, I wait for Liam to lead her far enough away before I grip Andrew’s upper arm, whip out a Sig from my holster, and jam the barrel underneath his chin. Sorcha’s shocked gasp reaches me, but I don’t react, don’t acknowledge her at all.
“What the fuck, Patrick?” Andrew blurts.
“Let me make one thing clear.” I jam the barrel even harder until it forces his head back, exposing his throat. “If youevertalk to my wife again without either me or one of my brothers in attendance, I will blow your pathetic fucking brains all over the wall. Do. You. Feel.Me?”
His pupils dilate, blocking out the muddy brown of his eyes, and his lids flare wide. “Yes.”
“Good. Wake up to your new reality, Andrew. This is your life, and if you want to keep breathing, you will stay the fuck away from what’s mine. I don’t want you poisoning her mind with your petty bitterness. This is your first and last warning. My wife is off-limits. Got it?”
“I said yes. I got it, okay. I fucking got it.”
