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"No." she said, giving her head a shake.
"What's the last thing you remember before you were taken?"
"I remember Jason called me on the way home and asked me to come over. Said he had something to show me," she growled. "I knocked on the door and everything went black. Next thing I knew, I was tied to a table while some girl with long, stringy black hair carved those letters into my stomach."
"You didn't see Jason?"
"No. I was out before he answered." She swallowed hard, her eyes sliding shut. "That bitch didn't even drug me until after she was finished. I felt every cut."
"I take it you didn't see her face?"
"No. That's not something I would have been able to forget—ever. "
I patted her arm. Comfort wasn't my thing, but these two women seemed to bring out a different side of me. A protective instinct I thought my father had burned out of me when he destroyed the rest of my emotions.
"I'll let you get some rest." I murmured, moving to stand up, but Connor's hand caught my arm.
"You need to talk to her. She's as lethal as you are, but somehow, that girl is still—"
"Innocent." I finished for her.
She nodded, but kept the razor sharp commentary I had become accustomed to, to herself.
"I overheard part of your conversation earlier." I muttered, feeling something akin to shame admitting my eavesdropping.
Her head fell to the side, her brow arched. The look spoke volumes of her eternal disappointment in my life choices.
"Yeah. Yeah. I get it. Listening in, even in my own house, is bad apparently. Heard ya," I quipped.
"Seriously though, if you heard, you know she needs to hear your intentions from you."
"And if I don't know my intentions?"
A dry laugh escaped her. "I can't figure it out for you. Just be honest with her."
"Oh, and I know how you are one and done with women. No judgment. None. But, if you hurt that girl—I swear to you, Ahren Rossdale I will help her hunt you down and do unspeakable things to you while you slowly bleed out. "
The corner of my lips quirked up. "That was—maybe the scariest threat I've ever gotten—oddly specific."
She waved me off. "Being vague isn't really helpful in moments like this."
"That bitch is going to pay for every tiny slice on your skin; I’m going to count every one of them." I vowed. Emotions weren’t my strong suit, but I was coming to understand Connor was the closest thing to a sister I'd ever had. And no one messes with my family.
"Then add forty-seven." Tierney added from the doorway, offering Connor a smile as she entered the room.
"I already promised myself for every time my broken ribs took my breath away, I'd introduce someone to my favorite knife. Then again, I am not sure I want that bitch's blood tainting a perfectly good knife." She shrugged, dropping into the chair.
A soft smile made its way onto my face as I listened to the two women chat about their injuries, like two old friends swapping cookie recipes. This was what passed for domestic bliss in our crazy little corner of the world. With the lads asleep under her bed, it seemed everything I cared for in this world was in one room.
"I'm beat." Tierney groaned, lifting her arms over her head as she stretched her tired muscles.
"Ok. I'll take the first shift." I offered.
"Bullshit." Connor interrupted, shaking her head vigorously.
"You two have been awake and running for your lives for hours. It's late. Leave the dogs and a gun. I'm fine." She insisted.
Tierney froze mid-stretch, her eyes flicking to mine.