Page 80 of Broken Blood Ties

He sighs, opening his front door.

I should be trembling. I should be worried he’ll take advantage of me out here in the middle of nowhere, but I don’t. My only thought is Luna. He stalks around the car to the door I’m propped up against, and he opens it. With a swift yank, he pulls at my right tired arm and flings me down into the ditch, and I’m not sure I deserve any better.

Chapter25

Kieran

There’s something therapeutic about unleashing soul-crushing aggression on a one-hundred-and-ten-pound heavyweight bag.

My bare fist connects with the bag’s vinyl shell, and I relish the ripple of pain that reverberates through my arm.

One, three, five, two.

Hissing, I strike again, trying to block out the last five hours. It’s a nightmare. It has to be. I wanted Summer. Wanted her body. Wanted her for my daughter. But most concerning, I wanted to share more with her.

After Laura, I swore I’d never fall for another. What a damn sappy fool I am.

The door to the practice room beside the underground ring squeaks open, and I pause my glorified boxing session to see Cormac leisurely walk in.

His head dips to look at my knuckles, ripped open and bleeding, and he shakes his head. I don’t hide them, though I have the urge to whip them behind my back. Instead, I wipe the blood on the front of my white button down.

“She still at it?” I ask, moving to grab a towel for the sweat dripping into my eyes.

“Aye. Hasn’t let up since ye locked her in there. Pretty sure the entire block can hear her.”

They can’t. I’ve had this whole place soundproofed. No one can hear the roar of the crowds below, or the rowdy frat boys drowning in a vat of beer while watching the game at the bar.

I smirk, but a frown takes over when I remember. “Did she eat?”

“No. Lizzy sent a burger and fries, but she rushed the guard outside her door when he brought us in.”

She’s feisty and pissed, and the knowledge of that warms the blood in my body. I’ve always been intrigued by Summer pushing back at me. Few do. But the idea of her fighting back—I stifle a groan.

What am I going to do with her? No doubt Salvatore will be here soon, and even my hate for Riku can’t top my disdain for her father.

He’s aligned with the Bratva, and while I don’t have a formal alliance with Luka, it goes unsaid. He needs me, I’m there. I need him, and he’s there. I’ve already called upon the Bratva as a precautionary step with Riku in my city. Luka is ready and willing to step in whenever I require it.

It’s a blow to my pride, realizing the Yakuza grew their numbers underneath my nose. My father would be ashamed. Regardless, the Bratva has my back, and that makes the Cosa Nostra a willing ally. How do I withhold his daughter from him? How do I manipulate the chess pieces?

I move to a water bottle I have stashed on the bench in the corner and pour the remaining third over my face like a brute. I’m burning up and suspect it’s not from the hour-long session I just completed.

Cormac eyes me, hands in his jean pockets.

“What?” I push the water up into my hair and rustle it around until it’s almost dry.

His tweed jacket bunches together as he brings both hands together in front of him.

“What ye going to do with the lass?”

Hell if I know.

I should get rid of her, but I’m half worried I’ll have withdrawal pains if I do. Plus, what does that say about me as a father? Would I want Aoife to be handed over like stolen property? I punish the men who take aim at innocent young women, not facilitate it.

After a quick glance at the clock on the wall, I finally respond. “Right now, I’m going to bring her a new burger and make sure she eats somethin’.”

Jogging to the locker rooms, I speed through a cold shower and pull on my clothes again, not bothering with my hair. In several minutes, I’m standing in front of my office door while sluggish pounds bang on the door every thirty seconds or so. The fact she’s still banging on the door at this point is impressive.

I key in on the pad and open the door.