Page 24 of Bittersweet Revenge (Sins of the Father #1)

Dean

I ’m not an idiot. I know what’s going down tonight. What’s throwing me for a fucking loop is that I feel…left out, when I have no business thinking that way when it comes to Tiernan, or hell, even Aislin.

She sees me as a friend, and Tiernan likes to fuck me, but that doesn’t make us family, and the fact that shit like that is even a thought floating around in my head is the worst kind of betrayal, but I can’t stop it.

I don’t know if I’m more pissed at Tiernan or myself about it.

And what the hell was him sleeping in the chair all about?

I’d expected him to wake me up being an asshole, but he’d just… gone to sleep.

It has to be because of Aislin, not because he gives any kinds of fucks about me. In his protective way, that was him being there for her, but even that fucks with my head more than it should.

Because I hadn’t expected Tiernan to be human.

I hadn’t expected him to give a shit about anyone other than himself, except maybe his father, but there’s not a doubt in my mind Aislin is the most important person in the world to him.

That Cillian and Rory are brothers to him and that he cares about them as well.

Would he still put a bullet between their eyes the way his father did to mine?

Angry goose bumps spread down my arms at the thought, but then I turn inward, this quiet voice in the back of my head telling me Tiernan wouldn’t do that. He would, though. It’s who he is, and the dumbest thing I could do is romanticize him.

I pick up my sketchbook and flip to the last drawing I made—Tiernan asleep in Aislin’s chair, his head tilted to the side in a way that couldn’t have been comfortable.

He slept with a frown on his face, something I’ve noticed he does more than not.

What’s going through his head when he’s sleeping?

What are the thoughts that plague him? Because I know they’re there.

I see them, feel them on this level I shouldn’t and is probably all in my fucked-up head.

I rub my finger over his hair in the artwork as if I can feel the soft strands that always hang over his forehead. What if something happens to him tonight? To Aislin? What the fuck is he thinking, taking her with him? But then, part of me respects him for it.

I push the sketchbook away and pick up my laptop.

I haven’t done any of my schoolwork, instead spending the day obsessing about him, drawing him.

Oh, and hacking into Michael Jensen’s bank account.

It would be very easy to take everything he has, making it look like he just…

disappeared. The only reason I haven’t done it yet is because what if something goes wrong?

What if Tiernan can’t do whatever it is he’s planning and Jensen is alive to find an empty bank account, which will just put heat on us.

Them , I remind myself. I might be the one with the computer skills to do this, but I can’t think of myself as an us with them.

My gaze shoots to the door when it unlocks. Ollie comes in, looking startled to see me, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I didn’t expect you to be here. You’re staying home tonight?”

I rub a hand over my head. “Um…no. I’m going out with Cillian.”

“Cillian fucking O’Shea?”

I roll my eyes. “Yep.” Not that I want to, and I can’t believe I’m doing it. Tiernan is all up in my head. If I had any doubts, me doing as he said is a clear fucking sign.

“Wow…you’re, um…really getting involved with them. You know they’re drug dealers, right?”

I chuckle. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

“And that they’re not so secretly organized crime.”

“Nope. Never heard anything like that. You’ve been watching too many movies.”

Ollie sighs. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

I have no clue, but that’s not going to stop me from doing it. “I’m taking a shower.” I grab some clothes, then slip into the bathroom. Cillian should be here soon to babysit me, so I should make sure I’m ready.

The hot water feels incredible against my skin, probably too hot for comfort for most people, but a little pain has always brought me pleasure. It’s a reminder I’m alive.

Once I’m clean, I shave and get dressed. The second I open the door, I hear, “Hey. Don’t look at that. It’s private,” in Ollie’s soft voice. Great. The asshole must be here.

“Leave Ollie’s shit alone.” I step out, but it’s not something of Ollie’s that Cillian has in his hands.

It’s my sketchbook. He’s flipping through the pages, seeing my personal shit, my fucking heart—if I have one—or hell, maybe it’s just what’s in my head.

Whatever it is, he has no right to look at it.

Red flashes in my vision, all thought cutting off as I charge him.

Cillian doesn’t expect it, so he doesn’t defend himself as I slam into him, the two of us colliding with the wall. The sketchbook tumbles out of his hands, Cillian immediately trying to fight me off, but I still manage to pull my arm back and slam my fist into his face.

“Motherfucker,” Cillian curses.

“Jesus, Dean. What the hell?” Ollie says, distracting me, and Cillian shoves me away. I hit Ollie’s small end table, which clatters to the floor, just before pain shoots through my mouth as Cillian punches me.

“I swear to God, if you weren’t Tiernan’s, I’d fucking kill you.”

“I’m not his,” I spit, tasting blood and feeling my lip begin to swell.

He shakes his head, his eye already getting puffy too.

“You should feel lucky you are. He doesn’t claim people, but he’s claimed you, and that’s the only thing keeping me from losing my shit on you.

” He picks up the sketchbook, and I tense, but he closes it and hands it over.

“I didn’t know what it was. You need to learn some restraint.

Especially if you’re going to be spending time with us. ”

Considering he’s the second person I’ve hit in less than twenty-four hours and the second person who’s told me that, I’m starting to wonder if they might be right.

“Give me a second.” I walk into the bathroom and spit blood in the sink.

“What is happening here?” Ollie asks. “You guys just hit each other.”

“Feeling left out?” I hear Cillian ask.

“What? No!”

Cillian laughs, and I wipe my mouth, rinse the sink, then head back into the room.

“I’m just giving you shit,” Cillian tells him. “We’re coming to an understanding, is all. I’m sweet as pie. I’d never hurt you.” He winks at Ollie.

“You’re an idiot,” I grumble.

“You have a fat lip.”

“You have a black eye.”

“Didn’t hurt at all. You need more power in your swing.”

Jesus, he’s annoying as shit. I change my shirt because this one has blood on it, then put my sketchbook and laptop in my backpack before setting it on the bed.

“Aren’t you bringing that?”

“I’m coming back here tonight.”

“No. You’re not.”

I cock a brow. “Your boss tell you that?”

“Don’t call him that. He’s my best friend, and no, he didn’t, but I know him, and you need to be at home.”

“Why? What’s going on?” Ollie asks. “And are you dating Tiernan O’Shea?”

“No,” I say in unison with Cillian’s, “Nothing.”

“I’m coming home tonight,” I tell Ollie, but still pick up my backpack and put it on. “I’ll see you later.”

“I’m so confused.” Ollie collapses onto his bed as Cillian and I leave.

Cillian orders a car service. We’re both quiet on the drive to the Bar.

It’s killing me not to ask him what’s going on with Tiernan, if he’s heard from them and if everything is okay, but I’m determined not to let myself do that.

They don’t want me involved in their shit, and I need to remember that.

The Bar is packed, probably half the people here too young to drink. All the tables are full, but that doesn’t stop Cillian from walking toward one in the very back and telling the two guys sitting there, “Leave.”

“Are you shitting me?” one of them asks.

“Does it look like I am?”

They both curse but get up and leave. Cillian signals for me to sit down first, and I do, shaking my head as he slides into the booth across from me. “You guys are fucking ridiculous. Do you always get what you want?”

He shrugs. “Most of the time. It’s one of the benefits.”

“To what?” I ask, seeing my way in.

Cillian winks at me, but it looks kinda fucked up with his bruised, swollen eye. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Do you think you hide who you are?”

“No. But that doesn’t mean we don’t try to control the narrative, to have some restraint and keep certain shit to ourselves. That’s what I was trying to tell you earlier. You have a lot to learn, especially if you’ll keep spending time with Tiernan. You’re going to be a liability to him.”

Something tightens in my chest. My instinct is to tell Cillian to fuck off because I’m not a liability to shit.

No one needs to take care of me or clean up my messes.

But then another part of me, one that makes my head spin and my palms sweat, seems to want that, to be a liability to him, not because I want something bad to happen to Tiernan, but because that means he cares about me.

Who has ever cared about me other than my parents?

“I can take care of myself,” is what I land on. “And I won’t let anything happen to Tiernan.”

He cocks a brow. “You’re going to take care of T? He’s the most capable person I know, and if he needs anything, he has me and Rory.”

“Then why did you tell me I need to go to the house tonight?”

I can see him mentally stumble as he searches for the answer.

“He wants you. He’s never wanted anyone like he does you.

I don’t pretend to understand it, and I must admit, it’s worrisome.

Tiernan has a lot of responsibility. He doesn’t need anyone to make his life harder.

” Cillian signals for the bartender to come over.

“I don’t make his life harder.”

He shrugs. “We’ll see. I’m telling you right now, if you hurt him, if you fuck with his life, if you do anything that makes me question your integrity or loyalty to him, you will disappear.

There won’t be anything left of you to find.

” There’s an icy coldness to Cillian’s voice I’ve never heard before, more intense than he was the first time I showed up at their house.

There’s not a part of me that doesn’t believe him. If he finds out who I am, he’ll kill me. If I do anything to Tiernan he disagrees with, he’ll kill me. I already don’t expect to make it out of this alive, but his isn’t the last face I want to see.

But even stronger than those feelings are the ones that make my spine straighten, make my teeth grind together and my hands fist. “He doesn’t need you to take care of him. He has me now.” At least, until I betray him and kill his father.

“Let’s hope you’re right.” A bartender approaches our table, and Cillian’s whole demeanor changes, now with a light smile. Probably because he wouldn’t have come to the table for anyone other than them. “Two beers. Keep them coming all night.”

“Same as always?”

“Yep,” Cillian replies, and the guy disappears.

“What if I don’t like beer?”

“Then you’re hanging out with the wrong people.”

But I’m not. To the marrow of my bones, I know I’m not. Even though it’s only temporary, I belong by Tiernan’s side.

We’re four beers in, when I run my finger in circles over the top of the mug, now allowing myself to make eye contact with him and ask. “Is he okay? Tonight? What if he needs us?”

Cillian frowns, then sits back in the booth, watching me. “Why would he need us? Nothing is going on.”

“I’m not fucking stupid. Don’t treat me like I am.”

He sighs. “He’s fine. Rory’s checked in with me. If they need me , I’ll go.”

“If they need you, I’ll be right there with you. Otherwise, I’ll have to hit you again.”

I’m surprised when Cillian laughs. “You’re not so bad, New Kid. You have a set of balls on you, that’s for sure.”

And though I shouldn’t, I take his words as the compliment he meant them as, feeling, just for a moment, like I belong.