Page 3 of Seven Sons (Gypsy Brothers)

I cowered in anticipation. This was it. He was going to shoot me, and I was going to die.

“You better get your dick out and fuck this little bitch, or I’m going to shoot her in the face. Do you understand, son?”

I was listening, but I was floating away at the same time. Little white spots started to appear in my vision as the unbearable pain began to recede.

Jase lunged at his father and I heard a crash, followed by a scuffle and yelling. It was getting hard to hear, though. Everything was turning white and I floated awa

y on that whiteness, relieved to finally be coming to the final moments of my suffering.

“Pop,” I heard Chad say. “Pop!”

“What?!” Dornan roared.

“I think she’s dying.”

“Bullshit.” Rough hands shook my body, and there was swearing and jostling as I was picked up and carried.

The world turned white, and then it turned dark as I drifted peacefully away.

When I awoke, the world was not white, but a depressing beige. The pain crept up and socked me hard in the stomach, winding me. I tried to sit up and failed miserably. Some of my ribs were definitely broken.

I felt a warm hand in mine and looked next to me, expecting my mother. Instead, I saw a nightmare that I thought I had woken from.

A scream died in my throat as Dornan gestured with a finger to his lips for me to remain silent. I never even considered defying him, I was so terribly afraid.

“The police would like to talk to you,” Dornan said gravely. “I told them my dear niece was going to need some time alone with family first.” I stared at him in disbelief, disgusted at what he was implying. Uncle Dornan, posing as a fucking hero in the wake of my father’s absence.

I tried to wrench my hand away but he squeezed tighter, cutting off the circulation and forcing a gasp from me.

“What are you going to tell them, Julie, baby?”

I slumped against the bed, defeated. “Nothing.”

“I didn’t hear you.”

“Nothing!” I said a little louder,

and snatched my hand back as he released his grip.

“Good,” he said, standing up and straightening his leather cut. “I’d hate to have to do to your mother what we did to you.”

I cringed at his not-so-subtle threat and shuddered as he planted a kiss on my forehead. “Don’t act like the victim,” he whispered in my ear. “I know you loved it.”

He plastered a fake smile on, tossed a bunch of flowers on the bed next to me, and left the room.

It was the last time I saw him.

And, ironically, the thing that had burned at me the most, more than the betrayal, was the reasoning. I wanted to know why. But then, Dornan murdered my father two days later, shot him in the head at point-blank range with a shotgun. Blew his head clean off.

After that, after Elliot told me my father was dead, I stopped wondering why.

Jase comes back down the stairs, taking them two by two, as if he’s in a hurry to be away from the office. He returns to his spot behind the bar and picks up his polishing cloth. “He’ll be down soon.” I don’t answer straight away, and he looks at me from beneath those gorgeous black eyelashes that I used to tease him about. I must look dreadful, because he jerks his head up and frowns.

“Are you okay?”

I nod my head slowly, gripping the bar with both hands.

“Are you sure?” He lifts the cut-out section of the bar counter and comes around to where I am, a glass of iced water appearing in his hand as if by magic.

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