Page 73 of Iris
Ugh, they’re drunk, and I try to keep myself on the side of outrage and not panic as I try to get free.
“You know you two are class A idiots. When this gets out you’ll be the bottom of the food chai?—”
A hand lands over my throat as another worms its way beneath my skirts and now the panic blooms hot and tight and white. My blood roars in my ears and I struggle as hard as I can, desperate to get rid of them, desperate to be free when they stop touching me. A light shines on the three of us from above.
“Holy shit.” Donegal steps back, almost falling.
Jerome stumbles back. “It’s the mute from the Briar. Hey man, we didn’t know you like her. We were just having fun. That’s all we?—”
He stops talking as he crumples to the ground, bleeding and knocked out cold.
The light moves to Donegal and this time I see the might of Xavier’s fist as it flies out and connects with his face. His nose spurts blood and then, calmly, Xavier turns to me. He pulls out his mini. The light goes out and it’s him and me in the darkness of the trees with the unconscious guys.
On the ground my mini lights up, and I scoop it up.
Xavier
Next time I kill them. And I will still kill them if they hurt you.
In the dim light of his mini, Xavier looks at me.
“The only thing they hurt was my dignity,” I whisper. Then I gasp. “Xavier, you have to go, if they find you, and these two out cold and bleeding, you’ll be in trouble.”
His lips lift and he types again.
Xavier
They won’t. They wouldn’t dare. But if you still want to go to the meeting, I’ll take you. Now.
“Give me a minute. I’ll get Quinn.”
He shakes his head, points at me and his meaning’s clear.
Just me.
Fantasy’s one thing but reality, going off with a man like this, is another.
He holds out his hand with his mini, and I can read it.
Xavier
Now or never.
I take his mini and put my hand in his.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
Killian
“Isn’t this fucking cute? Holding hands. My heart might actually be in danger of beating.” I glance at Iris, then at a smug Xavier and place a hand against my chest. “No. Nothing.” I look at the old-fashioned exercise book I have, and pencil in a note about what we need more of for the next shipment.
Iris snatches her hand away and a sliver of glee passes through my blood.
“Must have just been indigestion,” I say.
The small back room seems crowded. It’s not big, but the size hasn’t bothered me ever before. I set the book on a barrel and lean against shelving.
