Chapter 32: Brutal Vows: Chapter 32

“Iwas being an idiot,” I reply, shaking my head.

“Aye, I know that. I’m just glad you realize it. So, tell me. How is the infamous Black Widow?”

I say crossly, “I’m not going to tell you how she is in bed, for fuck’s sake.”

“Get your head out of the gutter. That’s not what I’m asking.”

“Then what the bloody hell you asking?”

He gazes at me for a moment before saying, “She likes you, you know.”

Heat creeps into my cheeks. I say gruffly, “You think so?”

“Aye. Dimwit.”

“How can you tell?”

“The way she looks at you. The way she speaks to you. The way she told her own kin to fuck off when they tried to get you to leave the meeting.”

“Massimo,” I say, my mood darkening at the memory of him. “I don’t like that fucker.”

“Who does? My point is that your new wife’s got your back.” His eyes glimmer with laughter. “Must’ve been some wedding night, boyo.”

“I knew you were talking about that!”

“Ach, be quiet. You’re wound up again. I should’ve forced you to take some time off.”

“I already had time off after the whole debacle in Russia, remember? And I’m wound up about that damn dream, like I told you. I haven’t dreamt of Shannon in years.”

Kicking his feet up onto his desk, Declan takes a swig of his scotch and considers me, sitting across from him in one of his big leather chairs.

“I don’t think this needs to be said, but Reyna isn’t Shannon. She can take care of herself.”

“It’s my job to take care of her now!”

He waves that off. “And just because Caruso hasn’t discovered who the intruders were doesn’t mean it has anything to do with Urosevic.”

Agitated, I rise from my chair and start to pace. “They were mercs, Declan. Hired hands who were totally untraceable. That wasn’t just your average kidnapping attempt. Something bigger was behind it. Some bigger. And the fact that Caruso can’t find anything out about them proves it.”

Watching me pace in agitation, Declan says gently, “You put a bullet in his brain, lad. He’s been dead and buried for half your life. It wasn’t him.”

“Then who the fuck was it?”

“I made it my business to find out. You’ll have all the information within a few days.”

“How?”

His smile is mysterious. “I’m me, that’s how.”

“You mean you called Killian Black.”

His smug look sours. “You can be a real pain in the arse, you know that?”

I mutter, “Now you sound like my wife.”

“Speaking of wives, we’d better get back out there before they hatch a plot to rule the world and make us obsolete.”

He’s right. Leaving a pair of women like Sloane and Reyna alone in a room together is dangerous. Depending on their moods, we could find ourselves missing a few important limbs when we wake up in the morning or discover they’d commandeered our soldiers to serve under new, all-female leadership.

When we return to the living room, they’re cozied up together on the sofa, drinking wine and laughing like two old pals.

Declan says, “You two look like you’re having fun.”

Sloane grins up at him. “Just girl talk. Come sit.”

Eyeing Reyna, who’s sitting with her bare feet tucked under her and those gorgeous tits falling out of the neckline of her dress, I say, “I think it’s time to call it a night. We had a busy day. I’m sure my wife would like to get to bed.”

Sloane laughs. “I’m sure one of you would.”

My ears are hot, but I can’t look away from Reyna. She’s gazing up at me from under her lashes with an inscrutable look in her eyes. Like maybe she’s got a secret.

I hope that secret involves my hard cock, because it’s already stirring.

She turns to Sloane. “Thank you so much for having us over. You’re a wonderful hostess. I hope we see more of each other soon.”

Sloane says, “Babe, we’ll be seeing a more of each other. By the way, do you think you’d be interested in a girls’ trip to Paris? Me and my bestie, Nat, were thinking of going for fashion week in September.”

Declan says, “You’re not going to bloody Paris without me.”

Sloane smiles at him. “Okay, honey.” She turns back to Reyna. “We’ll stay at the Hôtel Costes, which is where all the cool celebrities stay. They have this luxury suite that’s like five thousand euro a night and worth every penny. It’s the size of an apartment. We can all stay there together and order room service for every meal.”

Declan repeats loudly, “You’re not going to Paris without me!”

“I know, honey. So I’ll call you with all the details, okay, Reyna?”

“Sounds great,” Reyna replies, rising. She sets her empty wineglass on the coffee table as Sloane stands, then they hug.

I don’t know why the sight of them embracing makes my chest tight and a lump form in my throat, but it does.

Judging by Declan’s expression, he’s not feeling quite so misty-eyed about the situation.

Poor bastard. He’ll spend the next few days trying to dissuade Sloane from the Paris trip idea, which we all know will fail miserably.

We say our goodbyes and head to the car.

As soon as we’re settled in and Kieran’s driving us down the winding road from the estate, Reyna turns to me.

“I’m worried about Lili. Can you find out what’s happening?”

I take her hand and say softly, “She’s fine, lass. They got to Mexico safely.”

“You talked to her?”

“No. I talked to one of the men who took them.”

“When?”

“This morning.”

The sun set hours ago, so the light is low, but I can still see her face well enough to catch the flash of anger in her eyes.

“This morning,” she repeats, her voice cool. “When you were so distant.”

I drag a hand through my hair, sighing. “Aye. I’m sorry about that.”

Swallowing, she looks away. After a moment of silence, she says, “You don’t have to apologize.”

“I should apologize when I’ve been an arse.”

She shakes her head. “You don’t have to explain, either. I understand.”

Something in the tone of her voice—and in the way her hand is sitting passively in mine, like a dead fish—makes me nervous. “What is it you understand?”

“I just meant that you deserve privacy. You’re not obligated to share every little thought on your mind. I know you need space.”

When she gently pulls her hand from mine, I grab her chin and turn her head toward me.

Her expression is blank. Her eyes have a distant look in them. She’s withdrawn into herself, somewhere she doesn’t want me to reach her.

Fuck that shite.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

She swallows again. I think it’s a tell for when she’s emotional, but trying not to show it.

I’m having none of that fucking nonsense. I grab her and drag her onto my lap.

She exhales and closes her eyes, muttering, “Here we go.”

“You’re bloody right, here we go! Kieran, shut your ears, mate!”

He gives me a thumbs-up and turns on the radio.

Holding Reyna, I give her a squeeze and a little jostle, growling, “Talk to me, viper. What the fuck is going on in that mind of yours? And don’t say ‘nothing’ again, or I’ll give you a spanking.”

Her eyes flare. She hisses, “Try it, Irish. I’m in the mood to spill some blood.”

Though I’m anxious about what’s eating her, I grin. “There’s my She Devil. Now start talking.”

“What is this pathological need you have to discuss everything?”

“It’s called being an adult. Now quit hiding from me and spill your guts, woman.”

As stiff and prickly as a cactus in my arms, she glares at me. “I’m going to take you up on your offer to let me live in my own place.”

That stuns me. Hurt, I say, “Why?”

“I don’t owe you an explanation.”

Okay, I’m bloody angry. If she wants a fight, she’s getting one.

Through gritted teeth, I say, “Aye, viper. You do. I’m your bloody husband, remember?”

Her eyes could freeze me to an ice cube. She says flatly, “As if I could I forget.”

“Don’t try me, woman.”

“Or what?”

I’m well aware that we could go back and forth like this all night, so I take matters into my own hands and kiss her.

She resists me at first, pushing against my chest and trying to get away. But I don’t let her. I hold her and kiss her until she’s pliant and shivering and my dick is screaming at me for release from my trousers.

“Now fucking talk,” I say against her mouth, breathing hard. “And give me the consideration of being honest.”

“Like you were honest with me about being in love with another woman?”

That feels like a slap across the face. “What the hell does that mean? Who am I supposed to be in love with?”

“Riley.”

From the front, Kieran lets out a low, astonished whistle.

Ignoring him, I demand, “How do you know about Riley?”

I realize that’s the wrong approach when all the fight drains out of her. Reyna swallows again and looks away. “Please let me go.”

“Goddammit, woman. You’re not going anywhere. Look at me.”

Of course she won’t, so I take her face in my hand and force her to. Looking into her eyes, I say deliberately, “I’m not in love with Riley.”

“You know what? It’s really none of my business if you are.”

“Stop fighting me. I’m not letting you go. And don’t close your eyes, goddammit!”

“Will you stop shouting into my face, please?”

I put my mouth right next to her ear and say hotly, “Your jealousy is misplaced. I’m not in love with anyone else.”

“I’m not jealous!”

She’s horrified by the suggestion, which makes me think I’m right.

It also makes me so fucking turned on, I want to rip that dress off and fuck here right here on the back seat.

I grab her head in both hands and kiss her again. She squirms, trying to get away, pushing against me until I pin her wrists together. Then I fist my other hand into her hair and kiss her again, this time groaning into her mouth with need.

“Quinn, stop. Let me go.”

“I’m never letting you go. There’s a contract that says I can’t.”

“You heartless bastard.”

“Look at me. Calm down and look at me, Reyna.”

Breathing hard, she turns her face away but glances back with a hostile, distrustful look.

Keeping my voice low though I’d like to shout at her, I say, “I’m not in love with anyone else. I’ll answer any questions you want me to, but first you need to understand that fact. I was infatuated with Riley, yes. I wanted there to be something between us, yes. But there wasn’t. I never even kissed the lass. Never touched her. She was under my protection, and I fucked it up so badly, she ended up shot.

Accidentally, but nevertheless, it was my bullet she took. So you’ll have to forgive me for being more than a little fucked up over that, Reyna, but I’m not in love with her. She’s not who I want.”

I press a soft kiss to her lips. “I have the woman I want, even if she does hate me.”

She stares at me in silence. Then, in a voice so low I can barely hear it, she says, “I don’t hate you.”

My heart pounding, I pull her closer and kiss her again. I kiss her all the way back into the city and right up until Kieran stops the car in the underground garage. Then I take my wife upstairs to the honeymoon suite and lock the door behind us.

I stalk toward her. Wide-eyed, she backs away from me.

“Don’t be afraid of me, Reyna. I swear on my mother’s grave, I’ll never harm you.”

“It’s just that every time I think I’ve seen your highest intensity level, you set a new record.”

The last thing I want is for her to think I’m in any way as psychotic as Enzo, so I point to a chair and order, “Sit. Fuck, I mean sit down.”

I prop my hands on my hips and start to pace, because apparently, it’s the only way I know how to blow off steam without shooting something.

Reyna perches on the edge of the leather chair and watches me warily.

I stop in the middle of the room, blow out a hard breath, and close my eyes. “When I was nineteen years old, I fell in love with a married woman.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Be quiet. You’ll get your chance to talk.”

I don’t even have to look at her to know she’s murdering me with her eyes, but it doesn’t matter. Right now all that matters is that I clear the air between us. I need to get her naked and into bed, and that won’t happen if she’s still angry with me.

I walk over to the bar and pour myself a scotch. I chug it, then hold up the empty glass.

“No, thank you.”

“Suit yourself.” I pour another and drink that, too. Then I set down the glass, turn around, and fold my arms over my chest as I lean against the marble bar top.

I have no idea how to say what needs to be said, so I decide to try to get through it with as few words as possible.

I draw a slow breath, blow it out, then speak.

“Her name was Shannon. She was five years older than I was. We met at a rugby match. She told me she was married, but I didn’t care. I pursued her relentlessly. Eventually, she gave in.”

My laugh is low and humorless. “I can be very persistent when I want something.”

I’m lost in dark memories for a moment, then shake my head to clear it. Reyna watches me in taut, unblinking silence.

“Her husband found out. I don’t know how. I also didn’t know he was in the Serbian mafia.”

Reyna’s lips part. Her hands tighten around the arms of the chair.

She senses what’s coming.

I look right into her eyes when I make my confession.

“He killed her for her betrayal. Slit her throat and left her body on my front lawn. Then he went to my parents’ house, first thing that same morning. They were still in bed when he put a bullet in both their heads.”

I’m keeping it together until the next part, where my voice breaks.

“He killed my little sister, too. Slit her throat the same way he did Shannon’s. Police said later she didn’t die right away. Took her a while to choke to death on her own blood. Hannah was twelve.”

Reyna lifts her hands to cover her mouth.

I close my eyes again so I don’t have to see the look of horror in hers.

“Next he went to my grandparents’ houses. He bound them and lit the house on fire, same thing with both. All four of them were burned alive.”

Reyna says faintly, “Oh God. Quinn.”

“Don’t call for God yet. It gets worse. My older sister lived with her husband and three young children. The husband he tied up and bludgeoned to death. All three kids he shot at point-blank range. I won’t tell you what he did to my sister. She was a very pretty girl. Then he went through the rest of my family, one by one, picking them off like fish in a barrel. Aunts. Uncles. Cousins. Their kids, husbands, and wives. By the time he was through, forty-two people had been murdered. My entire family tree was wiped out. Because of me.”

I have to stop to catch my breath. I didn’t realize my voice had gone hoarse as I’d been speaking.

“I was nineteen years old, and responsible for unimaginable carnage.”

Reyna says softly, “Quinn, you were just a boy. He was the one who was responsible, not you.”

I lift my head and look at her, my warrior wife who survived fourteen years of abuse at the hands of a madman, and feel such an overwhelming wave of worthlessness, I can barely speak. When I do, it comes out in a rasp.

“No. All that blood is on my hands. It started because of my selfishness. So when a Russian assassin who was sent to kill Declan kidnapped Sloane’s sister right from under my fucking nose, this innocent girl I was responsible for protecting…I went a little crazy. I relived my own personal hell all over again. And when I woke up this morning, I suddenly realized that by marrying you, I might have signed your death warrant. That even though I took my revenge on Urosevic for what he did to Shannon and my family, maybe his curse still followed me after all these years.”

I swallow, then say gruffly, “That’s why I was upset. Not because I’m in love with someone else. Because I’m responsible for you now. And if something happens to you, it will be the end of me.”

She stares at me across the room in silence. Her mermaid eyes drill into me, straight down into my soul.

Then she stands, crosses to me, and throws her arms around my shoulders.