Page 8

CONAN

I ’ve got my hand around his throat, and he’s slamming into the wall before my brain even catches up.

“You just don’t know when to shut the fuck up, do you?”

The asshole grins.

“What are you gonna do about it, you Irish prick?”

I laugh. Low. Dark.

“You’re only across the pond from me. You know what my kind are capable of. I’d pick your next words wisely. Or you’ll end up in the same state the last Brit that fought me did.”

I lean in, close enough to taste the fear bleeding out of him.

“I caved his face in, and he left in a body bag, just in case you’re wondering,” I whisper so only he can hear.

His face goes the same pale shade as the drywall. My fingers clamp tighter around his windpipe.

“Is that how you speak to women? Huh? Have some fucking respect.”

Then I feel her. Hallie. Behind me. Her presence doesn’t just calm me, it reins me in.

I don’t cave his jaw like I want to. Instead, I yank him by the shirt and drag his sorry ass to the front door, flinging him out onto the pavement like trash.

“Come near her again, I’ll fucking kill you.”

He scuttles back on his ass, the coward in him finally showing.

“She’s going to regret this. Mark my words. She needs me to protect her.”

Slowly, I blink at him.

“Protect her from what, exactly?”

If there’s anyone around here who needs protecting from, it’s me and my brothers.

But then he grins. That same grin men like him always hide behind. Something in his eyes flickers, too alive.

“You’ll see.”

Hallie’s hand brushes my back.

We watch Ben disappear into the dark. I don’t like the way it swallows him whole.

“Who exactly is Ben?” I ask, turning to lock the door.

“Umm. No one, really. Works for his cousin’s business. Finance crap, I think. He’s from London.”

I nod, the threat still circling in my brain like a shark scenting blood.

The recognition in his eyes—that was no accident.

“Last name?”

“Edwards.”

That’s going to Declan tonight. I want every damn thing there is to know about this Ben Edwards.

I glance at her. She’s twirling her thumbs. But her eyes—there’s a glimmer in them that wasn’t there before.

“Do you need a lift home now?” she asks.

Her hand is trembling. Just slightly.

“Are you meant to be going back to work?” I take a step closer.

Her dog’s panting, chest heaving in time with the tension thick in the air. She strokes his head.

I crouch, holding out a hand. He sniffs it, nose wet against my skin.

“That’a boy.” I scratch behind his ear, and his tail goes wild.

When I stand, I’m towering over her again.

“Sorry. I love dogs,” I tell her. She smiles like it’s the first safe thing she’s done all day.

“Yeah. Me too. He was my dad’s.”

She exhales, and it cracks something in me. The kind of sorrow you feel in your bones. I pull her into me and hold her. Tight.

There’s no way she’s leaving. No way I’m letting her out of my sight. Not until I figure out what the fuck that threat meant.

“Okay. How about, and you can tell me to fuck off, you let me call Finn and explain. Get you the night off work. We sit and watch movies, drink coffee, or whatever sickly sweet stuff you like. And then I’ll stay on the couch until Finn collects me in the morning. We can also go get your car too.”

She looks up, confused. Frowning.

“Why?”

“Why what, trouble?”

She pouts. And fuck, it does something to me. Something I shouldn’t let it do.

This is comfort. That’s all. She’s a family friend. This is what I should be doing.

“Why are you helping me? You don’t know me. You could’ve just run out the door after Ben and left me to it.”

I bite my tongue. She’s not wrong. I don’t know why I care this much. Why is it sticking to my ribs?

“Because I’m not an asshole. And I think you’re really fucking cool.”

She smiles, soft and bright. Her eyes go glassy. I brush a knuckle down her cheek.

“Thank you, Conan.”

“You’re welcome. And see, I told you I owed you one.”

She giggles. It’s a sound that doesn’t belong in this moment. But I let it live. I let her have it.

Friends. That’s the line. And rule number one? You don’t fuck your friends.

My hand rubs over the wound on my thigh, pain pulsing under the pants. She notices.

“I told you to be careful.”

Her voice is clipped. Stern. It makes my cock twitch.

“I’m a naughty boy, Hallie. I can’t help it.”

She tuts and rolls her eyes. Christ. I like it too much.

“Does it hurt? Want me to check it, make sure you haven’t broken a stitch?”

I shake my head. “No. But I’d love a drink. That’ll cure me.”

“Dr. Quinn is going to be pissed at me.” Her gaze drops to the floor.

“Trouble, I’ve had twenty-nine years of winding my brother up. I’ll take the rap for this one. He won’t think anything of it, I promise. Trust me, it’s a skill of mine.”

I grin and she softens.

“Where’s your keys? I’ll go get your car now instead so it’s done, and I’ll call him while I’m doing it, and by the time I get back, we’ll be sweet to just relax.”

“I could use a glass of wine. Or bottle.”