Page 78 of Sweet Revenge
When they heard pounding footsteps in the hallway, Evie jerked, gripping Declan’s arm tighter. “It’s okay. It’s just Brogan and Finn.”
“Son of a fucking bitch,” Finn cursed, sliding into the doorway. “If that fucker isn’t dead, I’ll shoot him myself.”
“He’s dead,” Declan said, holding Evie tightly.
“You’re bleeding,” Brogan pointed out. “There’s a first aid kit in the kitchen, and I’ll call the doc.”
“Go with Brogan. I’ll be right down,” he promised when Evie only stared at him.
“I don’t…I don’t want to go without you.”
Declan pressed his forehead against hers. “Okay,” he said softly. “Finn, call McGee to come get that son of a bitch out of my house and clean up this mess. I want it to look perfect before the sun’s up.”
By the time they made it down to the kitchen, Evie had color back in her cheeks, and she felt a little steadier on her feet. Declan guided her to a chair at the kitchen table as Brogan went to find the first aid kit and call the doc.
“So you love me, huh?” he asked softly.
Her lips twitched at the corners. “Well, it’s not how I wanted to tell you, but I guess it got the job done.” When she looked up at him, her expression sobered, and she swallowed around the lump in her throat. “I love you, Declan.”
Cupping her cheek, he leaned his forehead against hers. “I love you too.”
ChapterThirty-Five
They fussed over her and she let them. Marta insisted on working even though it was her day off, and Evie could tell she was worried. No harm in letting the woman keep her hands busy making breakfast for the steady stream of men that wandered in and out. Every so often she poked her head into the living room to see if they needed anything.
Declan wouldn’t leave her side as much to be close as to keep her from going back upstairs to see for herself—to make sure once and for all—that Peter was dead. When McGee and his crew arrived, Declan had coaxed her into the living room, curling up with her on the couch.
Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, his overprotectiveness bothered her. She was sure of it. But for now, she was comforted by the warmth of him at her back and the lazy circles he drew up and down her arm with his fingertips while he worked from his phone with his free hand. Every so often he would take a break and press his cheek against the top of her head, almost as if he was making sure she was still real, still safe.
The incessant noise of drills and industrial vacuum cleaners had been going on for over an hour, and she knew they’d taken Peter’s body out when she heard the metallic clang of a stretcher as it hit the hardwood floor. She tightened her fingers around her coffee mug at the thought, taking a sip to let the warmth spread through her. She was ok. She was safe. Peter was dead.
She’d been repeating that in the silence ever since Declan had cleaned and bandaged her scrapes, kissed her bruises. She’d known it would end in death; there was no other option. The thing that bothered her wasn’t that Peter was dead or that she had watched Declan kill him. It was that she didn’t feel nearly as bothered by it as she expected to be. She felt…free.
She looked to the door at the sound of her name, so faint over the noise that she wasn’t sure anyone had really said it. She glanced at Declan to see if he’d heard it too. When she heard it again, he looked up. Okay, so she wasn’t imagining it. That was good.
“I will not leave! You tell me where Evie O’Brian is right fucking now!”
Cait sounded distraught, near to tears as she argued with whoever was running security in the front hall. Evie pushed off the couch, setting her mug on the coffee table before going out into the hall.
“Cait!” Evie called, making her friend spin.
Sprinting toward her without a word, Cait launched herself at Evie, squeezing her with impressive strength. “Evie, thank God.” Cait’s voice was thick with tears. “Finn said you were okay and not to worry, but…but I had to see for myself.”
Cait stepped away to look her up and down, eyes lingering on the purpling bruise around her neck where Peter’s hand had squeezed.
“He—”
“I’m fine,” Evie soothed. “He’s in much worse shape. I promise you.”
Cait wrapped her arm around Evie’s waist and turned to Declan. “He’d better be deader than dead.”
“Four bullets will do that to a guy.”
Cait sniffed. “Good.”
“I’m going to give you two a minute.” He stopped next to Evie, leaning down to press a lingering kiss against her lips. “Stay put.”
“Are we back to the prisoner thing again?”
