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  “I too will ensure her safety.”

  “Thank you.” I feel a burden lifted.

  “You care for this lass.” It isn’t a question. “I see it happening before my eyes.”

  I’m not sure I could admit the truth if I weren’t straddling life and death. “I do, very much.”

  “I never thought I’d see you care for anyone.” I’m aware of the wretched person my mother believes I am.

  “It’s unexpected.” I never saw myself caring for any woman.

  “She told me it would be very easy to fall in love with ye. I believe she has.” Mum is all smiles. “Do ye love her?”

  “Being loved by me will make her a huge target.” Abram won’t be her only threat. “I don’t want to—but I can’t help myself.”

  My parents look at one another and then back at me. “We heard what you said to one another. You’ve claimed her?” my dad says.

  “I have. And I don’t regret it. I would do it again.”

  “Yer wise tae keep it secret. It won’t serve ye well if the brotherhood finds out.”

  “I’ve already told her she has to leave immediately if I die. She’ll need you to help her get out safely.”

  “Dinnae lie here worrying aboot her well-being. She’s in good hands. Rest and concentrate on recovering.”

  It’s strange. I’ve connected with my mum for the first time in my adult life and it’s a direct result of Bleu’s presence in our lives. Another first because of her.

  “Please ask Bleu to come back. I need to give her an explanation for why she’ll be staying with you.”

  “Ye won’t warn her about Abram?” Mum asks.

  “I don’t want to give her a reason to be paranoid around him. That will only make him more suspicious of her.”

  My mum comes to me and does something she hasn’t done since I was a child. She hugs me. “I love ye, Sinclair.”

  “I love you too.” I can’t recall the last time I heard or said those words.

  My mum leaves and she sends Bleu back. “I know you do a damn fine job of protecting yourself but I don’t want you staying alone. I’ve spoken to my parents and you’re going to their house until I’m out of here.”

  “I will if it’ll make you feel better.”

  No argument? She’s making this very easy. “It’s what I want.”

  Good. I’ve ensured her safety. Now, all I have to do is survive.

  Chapter 17

  Bleu MacAllister

  I’m not prepared for how quickly Sin’s condition declines. Within an hour, he’s dependent upon a ventilator to breathe for him because his body can no longer do it on its own. I’m terrified he isn’t going to survive the night.

  Oh my God. When did I start to care so much for this son of a bitch? How’s it possible? If I disregard the part about who he is, the reality is that we haven’t known one another long enough for me to be this attached.

  I’m able to answer my own question before the thought is fully developed. He isn’t a stranger to me. I’ve studied Liam Sinclair Breckenridge for years. He’s been a part of my life for a long time. I came here knowing everything about him. Almost.

  He’s a thief who stole something much more precious than ever before—my heart. I never dreamed in a million years I could fall in love with the son of my mother’s killer. How sick is that? I’m certain there’s no psychological diagnosis to fit how morbid this is.

  For so long I’ve wanted to feel what other people feel. Now that I do, I just want it to stop. I would give anything to go back to feeling nothing again.

  I’m holding his hand when his critical care nurse comes into the room. “You haven’t left his side in two days. You need rest as well.”

  I can’t leave him. What if he wakes up for two minutes and looks for me but I’m not here? “I’ve been sleeping a little here and there.”

  “What you’ve been doing can’t be classified as sleep.”

  I stroke his hair away from his face. He needs a haircut and his facial scruff could use a trim.

  “Have you been together long?”

  “Only five weeks but it feels like much longer, as if we’ve known one another forever.” That’s not the whole truth. I’ve been acquainted with him for years. He’s only just met me.

  “Have you been talking to him?” she asks.

  “No.” That sounds like something a nurturing person would do. That’s not me.

  “You should. They can hear you.”

  “I don’t know what I’d say.”

  “It isn’t about the words. He only needs to hear your voice to know you’re by his side. It can be very reassuring if he’s confused or scared but most importantly, it’s healing.”

  I very much doubt the sound of my voice will help to heal him, but it won’t hurt anything, either. “I can try.”

  I look at Sin once the nurse is gone and wonder what in the world to say to him. This kind of thing isn’t me. But I’m determined to try if it might help. “Breck. It’s Bleu. I’m here with you. You’re not alone.” I squeeze his hand. “Do you feel that?” I get no response. No grip of his hand or flutter of his eyes.

  I move from the chair to his bed and slip in next to him, careful to not tug on any of his tubes or lines. If hearing my voice is good for him, then feeling my touch must be better.

  I stroke my knuckles down his unshaven face. “Sinclair Breckenridge. You come back to me right now. Please. I’m here, waiting for you.”

  I move my hand to his chest and feel the beat of his heart beneath it. “I want you to listen for my voice through the darkness. Let it bleed through so you can hear me.” I move my fingers to his inked Celtic shield of protection. “I’m not letting go of you. It’s not time for our story to end.”

  Nothing.

  “I need you to see into me.”

  Sin dances on the brink of death a few times before finally making a turn for the better. It hasn’t been easy but he’s almost fully recovered. He’s well enough to be discharged from the hospital tomorrow, so that means I won’t be sleeping under his parents’ roof after tonight. I have no choice. It’s time to kill Thane.

  I’ve familiarized myself with all things within the Breckenridge compound–surveillance camera locations, Thane’s schedule, the guards at the exterior entrances along with the times of their rotation. Lucky for me, they haven’t considered the notion of the enemy being welcomed inside with open arms.

  I’m struggling with my decision. Not because I care anything about Thane. My conflict is spurred by my feelings for Sin. I hate the thought of destroying his world, especially so soon after his brush with death. But I’m forced to choose who comes first–him or Harry.

  I can’t continue to stay. Time is my other enemy. I must do this and get home so I can be with my dying father. I’ve already lost more time than I intended.

  I need to hear Harry’s reassuring voice one last time before I go through with this. I use my burner phone to place the call and he answers on the first ring. “Hey, girlie.”

  “I’m calling about the status of my account.” I spout off a phony number.

  Harry and I have our own language no one else is privy to. Each line has been carefully chosen to signify something distinct. We do this because my voice could be heard through a planted bug. “I’m withdrawing the entire balance so I’ll be closing the account today.”

  “You’re inside Thane’s?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re proceeding tonight?” I have to. I’m not sure when I’ll have another opportunity.

  “That’s right.”

  “Be careful, girlie. You’re a lamb in the lion’s den. There’s no room for error.” He’s right. One false move and I’m dead. Game over.

  “Of course.”

  “In devoting your life to making this right, it would be a shame to get it wrong. Take your time. Don’t rush the kill.” I’ve vested my entire existence around this moment. I’ve lived and breathed for it. I won’t ruin it now.r />
  “Everything appears to be correct.”

  “I expect a follow-up call as soon as you’re able,” Harry reminds me.

  “I’ll phone back to confirm everything was in order.”

  “I love you.” We didn’t cipher anything for this one.

  “Thank you.” I want to tell him how much I love him but this will have to do.

  I return the untraceable burner phone to its hidden compartment within my bag. I walk the guest room floor as I go over my plan in my head one last time. Thane’s working late in his office. He drinks bourbon, at least three, every night so his reflexes and mental status are sluggish. I’m going to knock and enter. He’ll be on low alert, not expecting me to have any motive other than a request to talk. I’m going to tell him who I am before I kill him. I’ll recount all the details about that night—how I heard the fired shots while I was hiding beneath my bed, the devastation of watching him kill my beloved dog, and how frightened I was as he held a pillow over my face. When I finish, I’m going to order him to his knees. I hope he begs me to not kill him when I place the barrel of my gun to his temple.

  Time to do this.

  I walk the hall and do just as I’ve strategized. I knock and listen for him to tell me to enter.

  It’s while I’m standing there waiting for Thane to respond that I realize I’ve traded my life and all I love for this moment. My entire existence has been dedicated to this execution and I’m suddenly overcome by emotions I don’t understand. My purpose in life is ending. What will I possibly do once this is over? This is the close of a lifelong mission—the death of my dream. I should be happy, or at least satisfied, but I’m not.

  There’s no reply from within so I knock again, still without an answer. I open the door and go inside to find a sleeping Thane on his sofa. Correction: a passed-out Thane since he reeks of bourbon.

  He’s making his extermination too easy for me. But this isn’t the way I want it. Killing an incoherent Thane will be less than satisfying. I need him to be looking into the eyes of the little girl he wronged as he dies. It’s how I’ve envisioned it my entire life and I don’t think anything less will fulfill me.

  “Wake up, Thane.” I nudge his shoulder but he doesn’t budge. “Wake up. I want to see fear in your eyes when I put a bullet in your head.”

  He stirs and a photograph falls from his hand face down onto the floor. I pick it up—what does a man like him hold dear? What does he clench to his heart while drinking until he passes out?

  It’s him with my mother. They’re embracing, smiling, in front of the entrance to a casino. They look… happy. In love.

  Why is he clutching this photograph? Perhaps his actions have plagued him for the last eighteen years. I hope so.

  I place the barrel of my gun against his temple, just the way I’ve planned all these years. I hesitate, something I didn’t anticipate, and it has everything to do with Sinclair.

  If I kill Thane, the mission is over and there’ll be no reason to stay. My time with Sin will be over—the last grain of sand will fall through our hourglass. I’m suddenly aware of how unprepared I am to walk away from him.

  I can’t do this—not yet. I haven’t had all the time I want with Sin.

  “Dammit to hell!” I take my gun away from Thane’s head. “This is your lucky day.” Only because I love your son.

  I’m standing over Thane, gun in hand, when the door opens.

  “What are you doing in here, lass?” Isobel asks. Her eyes move to the gun in my hand. “Where did you get that?”

  I do the only thing I can. Lie. “I couldn’t sleep. I was on my way to the kitchen for a tea when I saw the light. I let myself in. I shouldn’t have but I’m glad I did. Thane was holding this. I was afraid of his intentions so I took it from him.”

  “Blootered dunderheid.” She takes the gun from me, shaking her head. “I’ll see to this. Go to the living room and let’s have a whisky together. It’ll help you to sleep better than tea.”

  “Please don’t mention this to Thane. I don’t want him to know I saw him like this.”

  She goes to his desk and puts the gun in the top drawer. I’ll need to come back in and retrieve it before Thane finds it. “I won’t. It’ll be our little secret.”

  I have a nightcap with Isobel and curse myself as I return to my room. I can’t believe I got my gun taken away. I hope Thane had lots of bourbon since I’ll be going back in after Isobel is in bed.

  Once inside, I phone Harry. “Hey, Dad. I have great news. Sinclair is being discharged from the hospital tomorrow.” This isn’t a conversation we’ve rehearsed so I’m winging it.

  “Is it done?”

  “I’m afraid not.” I hope Harry isn’t disappointed in me.

  “Nothing went wrong?” I’m glad we aren’t having a real conversation. I’m not sure how I’d tell him there was a problem—but it was my heart.

  “All is well but his recovery is going to take a little longer than expected.”

  “I shouldn’t worry?” he asks.

  “Not at all.”

  “Okay. When you’re in the clear, call me ASAP so we can make revisions.”

  “Absolutely. I’ll give Sin your best.”

  I dread making that call. I don’t want to lie to Harry but there’s no way I can tell him I couldn’t go through with killing Thane because I’m in love with his son. He’d never understand that.

  Sinclair is simultaneously all I could want in a man while I despise everything that makes him the person he is. I’m straddling two worlds. Love versus hate—and I’m not sure which is stronger.

  Despite his dirty deeds, I think Sin is it for me—the one and only love of my life. My heart tells me so every time I look at him. The feelings I experience when we’re together are everything I’ve always imagined when I pictured myself in love, minus the part where my beloved will be the next leader of an organized crime empire.

  I did not see this perfect storm coming.

  Chapter 18

  Sinclair Breckenridge

  “Would you like to lie on the couch or go to the bed?” Oh no. My mum didn’t play the coddling game and Bleu isn’t, either.

  “Those are the only two choices I get?”

  “Yes. The doctor says you need plenty of rest. I’m inclined to believe he knows what he’s talking about.” I guess she’s right since it’s possible he performed a miracle by bringing me back from the condition I was in a week ago.

  “Will you come with me if I choose the bed?”

  She tilts her head. “I will, but not for the reason you have in mind.”

  That’s not what I was implying. I don’t have the stamina for sex right now—and it’s a damn shan. I’ve missed being with my Bonny Bleu. “Give me a few more days and then we’ll make up for lost time.”

  She comes closer and hooks her hands behind my waist. “I look forward to that.”

  “No more than me.” I kiss her mouth. “Mmm… I’ve missed that.”

  “Me too.” She squeezes my midsection. “I’m happy we’re home.”

  “How did you make out at my parents’? I mean, the times you weren’t holed up with me.”

  A look I can’t identify crosses her face. “Your parents were very good to me—exceedingly so. As a guest, I’ve never been treated so well. That’s saying a lot since I’m from the South.” She laughs. “We’re very hospitable people.”

  “I’ll need to thank them later.” I think I should probably tell her about them overhearing us at the hospital. “They know about me claiming you.”

  She’s clearly surprised. “And?”

  “They’re okay with it but both agree it’s a good idea to keep it to ourselves.” Especially from Abram.

  She laughs and shrugs. “I don’t have anyone to tell.”

  “Do you miss the friends you made at the bar?”

  “Lorna was the only girl I’d consider a friend and that’s a maybe. I don’t think she cared for me much.”

  She bet
ter not have mistreated my lass. “Why is that?”

  “She’s in love with Leith.” Lorna has shagged Leith plenty of times but I can’t believe she has romantic feelings for him.

  “Aah… and he was making moves for you.”

  “Then you see the problem that made for our friendship.”

  Makes total sense. “Clearly.”

  “I can’t be friends with anyone within The Fellowship because they believe I’m an outsider and I can’t tell them about the one thing that designates me an insider.”

  That makes for a problem in the friend department. “I see your dilemma. I’m sorry.”

  “But I’ve grown close to your mother. That’s a good thing.” I like Bleu and my mum being friends.

  “She taught me her version of shepherd pie and now I have a crazy craving for open roast beef sandwiches with gravy. Maybe with potatoes and carrots?”

  “That sounds really good.”

  “I was thinking of cooking tonight. I’m tired of hospital food and I’m guessing you are too.”

  “I’ll never turn down your food.” Everything Bleu cooks is fantastic.

  “You like my southern cuisine?”

  “Very much.”

  “To the couch with you.”

  My flat has an open floor plan so I can easily lie on the couch and watch Bleu.

  She’s a tough lass. Scraps as well as any man I know, probably better, yet knows how to cook a delicious meal. “Is there anything you’re not good at?”

  “I can’t knit worth than a damn. My grandmother tried to teach me once. I got so frustrated I wanted to stab someone in the eye with the needle.” Why am I not surprised by this?

  “Remind me to never ask you to knit me a sweater.”

  She laughs and makes a stabbing motion with the fork in her hand. “Good thinking.”

  We finish dinner and then watch TV until bedtime. We’re side by side doing our nightly routines, preparing for bed. It feels domestic—and comfortable.

  It’s odd the things a man will think of when he believes he’s toeing the line between life and death. I was terrified to surrender to my body’s exhaustion; I believed if I closed my eyes for even a second, I’d never wake again. It was in those last moments before everything went black that I looked at Bleu and recalled the simple things—holding her after one of her nightmares, kissing the top of her head as I leave for work, listening to her breathe in the dark. Of all my fleeting thoughts, this one was my favorite—standing side by side getting ready for bed, me wearing my sleep pants and her in one of her soft, flowing nightgowns.