Page 69 of Forbidden Want

Maybe she’d feel differently tomorrow, but in that moment, every part of her was certain. Of what? She didn’t know. Whatever it was, her purpose lay in him.

Pietro was still babbling, pleading, begging.

“Want me to finish it?” Connel asked, touching her cheek.

“Let him bleed out slow.”

One side of his mouth lifted. He bowed to kiss her before winking and leaving her to return to the victim.

The victim.

The blade plunged into flesh; Pietro cried out in agony. She couldn’t pity him. Her empathy well dried up. She’d begged, and he hadn’t cared. Where was his empathy then? Where was his humanity? His single-mindedness on the night of the attack betrayed his not only willingness to rape, but an excitement about it. He must’ve done it before. Every woman he’d violated was in that room as Connel finished their attacker.

“You want to see?” Connel asked before coming around to her. She just shook her head. “Come with me.”

He led her out of that room and into the next one along. A restroom. Metal sinks lined the wall.

“Wash your hands, scrub under your nails.”

Easy for him to say. Her sling made that impossible. “I, uh…”

“Come here,” he said, joining her at the sink.

From behind, with his arms around her, he wet his hands and washed hers between his, even using the nail brush to scrub under her nails. Almost like her hand was his.

His concentration was so intent on cleaning her up, she didn’t have to do a thing and got the chance to process. The night they met, she’d said he was dangerous. She’d never once considered he might use that danger, those skills, to help her.

When he was done, he kept her hand to pull her to the wall and grabbed a towel to dry both of them off.

“Take off your shoes,” he said.

She did, only to be surprised by him directing her to a new pair by the door. Two together, one for him, one for her.

He’d planned it, known it would happen. If she’d said no, what did he lose? Nothing. She’d left things in his closet upstairs. Maybe he got rid of them; the shoes suggested otherwise.

He linked their fingers again to exit and return to the square hall where people were waiting. People that included Niall and Daly.

“It’s done,” Connel said. “Take him to pieces.”

The others went down the corridor, leaving her with the three men she knew.

“Get the car and the guys,” Connel said to Daly, who nodded and went upstairs. “We need a bundle.” This time Niall left, putting her under the scrutiny of the only man left. “I don’t want you home alone tonight. Daly will stay in your apartment with you. He’ll call Strat to—”

“I don’t want to go home.” Honesty was risky. More so the longer he just looked at her. What did he see? What did he want to see? Could he be finished with her again? After what they’d just done together… “Do you want me to go home?”

His hand rose to her face. “Aye,” he said, though it didn’t feel like he was talking to her.

He did? That deflated her. When he walked, jolting her along, she went in a kind of blind mist up the stairs and through the club. Stag would open soon. Life would go on. It would just go on like nothing was different.

They went down the exit corridor. She expected him to leave her and go upstairs.

Instead, he continued outside to where Daly was holding open the car door for her.

Connel eased her into the backseat and closed the door to talk to Daly. Niall came out and joined his colleagues.

Home. Was she supposed to sit and wait for Daly to be done? Was he complaining about babysitting duty?

She couldn’t even run her fingers through her hair on both sides. What had she done? She hadn’t even thought to look for cameras or… but she hadn’t caused the most damage. He had. And he’d done it in front of her. She was the only living witness. She’d told him they didn’t have trust but didn’t know a more irrefutable way to show it. Murder. What would someone want to conceal more than that? Yet he’d trusted her with it.

---