Page 8 of Sweet Vengeance (Sins of the Father #2)

Ollie

I don’t understand what’s going on, why Dean and Cillian are here. Dean makes more sense, considering we’re friends, but I don’t get why Cillian came with him, why he’s trying to stay the night with me, and why in the hell he told everyone he’s my boyfriend.

But I don’t have it in me to ask right now, to sift through the clouds in my brain to find the truth. My head is throbbing, my body aches. My vision is all screwy. I can only see out of one eye, and my glasses are broken. Luckily, I have another pair in my dorm.

I was attacked tonight.

Oh God. I was jumped and beaten by three masked men, and I’m in the hospital. I could have died. My dad could have lost me like he lost my mom, and I know he wouldn’t have survived. That and the fact that I can hardly move right now are the only things keeping me in this bed.

I was attacked, I was attacked, I was attacked.

My good eye falls closed, but when it does, I see them. The three men looming over me, the hate in their eyes when they looked down at me. How can they hate someone they don’t even know? They can’t, so that means they were only getting off on what they were doing, reveling in someone else’s pain.

I tremble, a small sound coming out of me.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Cillian touches my hand, and I jerk it away.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Cillian takes a step back, holding his hands up as if to tell me he won’t touch me again.

“How is he?” I ask, worried about the old guy, just as Dean says, “Maybe I should be the one to stay.”

Cillian answers before I can. “If you stay, T is gonna stay. It’s easier if it’s just me.”

“Neither of you has to stay,” I cut in. “Stop making me argue. I don’t have it in me.”

“Then stop arguing because I’m staying.” Cillian crosses his arms.

“God, you’re such a conceited jerk.”

He grins. “Thank you.”

I stare at him, wondering if my brain isn’t working properly after the hits I took tonight. “There’s something wrong with you. And how is he? The man?”

“What man?” Dean asks.

“The old man I told you they were beating up. Is he okay? Did he…?” Blood. There was so much blood.

The machine beeps, my heart rate speeding up. “Hey, you’re good. Calm down.” Cillian reaches for me, but then stops, as though remembering what happened a moment ago.

A blonde nurse comes into the room. “Are you doing okay?” She looks between Dean and Cillian.

“The guy who was brought in with him. How is he?” Cillian asks, surprising me.

“I’m sorry, we can’t share that information.” She’s glancing around as if unsure, and then lowers her voice as she says, “But you probably saved his life.” She gives my arm a gentle squeeze.

I saved his life? But I didn’t do anything other than jump into a fight I wasn’t prepared for and get my ass kicked.

“We have a room for you,” she adds.

I nod. The nurse begins disconnecting machines from the wall, but I don’t take my eyes off Cillian. He runs a hand through his brown hair. It’s lighter than his cousin’s black locks. While both have it styled so it hangs over their foreheads, Cillian’s straight while Tiernan’s has a wave.

Dean and Cillian discuss something in hushed tones. I can only assume it’s about me. Dean nods, then glances over Cillian’s shoulder at me. “If it’s okay with you, I’m gonna go. Like we said, Cil will stay with you, but if you need anything, you call me.”

“Fine. Whatever,” I say, not having it in me to argue. “Wait. Do I have my phone?” If I don’t, I’m fucked. Dad will never believe I lost it. I guess I can say it was stolen.

“Yes.” The nurse sets a clear bag on my thighs. “It’s in here with your clothes and wallet. We have your backpack too. Let me grab it.” She takes it out of a cabinet and Cillian takes it.

Dean leaves, and once the nurse gets everything together, she’s pushing my bed out of the emergency department and down the hallway. “Do you want me to take that too?” Cillian points to my lap.

“I’m good. I have it.” On reflex, my hand clutches the plastic tighter.

“Are you guys brothers?” the nurse asks.

“Dean was the brother. I’m the boyfriend,” Cillian tells her, and I fight myself not to react. Cillian calling himself my boyfriend makes my body heat both with anger and pleasure. I’m not proud of the second one.

She chatters while she pushes me into an elevator and then hits the button for the second floor.

I open my bag and check my phone. The screen is cracked, which sucks, but it turns on and seems to work okay.

When I open my wallet, the forty dollars I had are still there, and my debit card, but…

“My driver’s license is gone…my school ID too. ”

“Nothing else’s missing?” Cillian asks.

I look up at him, see his brows pulled together. When I say, “No,” he curses quietly. It doesn’t take a genius to understand why those things would be all that’s missing. Goose bumps erupt up and down my arms.

They wanted to know who I am.

Cillian’s jaw tightens, and I know he’s thinking the same thing.

The nurse doesn’t seem to realize anything is wrong, pushing my bed out of the elevator. She brings me to room 2035, and I sigh in relief when I realize there’s no one in there with me.

Another nurse comes in behind us, the two of them chatting while machines are hooked up again. She takes my vitals and gets a report of my condition. My pulse stumbles when she too mentions Cillian being my boyfriend, but for a second it takes my mind off the danger I might be in.

They ask me a couple of questions, then leave.

“Let me look in there.” Maybe I got lucky. Maybe my missing items are somehow in my backpack. One search tells me they’re not and the pit inside of me grows.

“We’ll take care of you,” Cillian says.

“I don’t need you to take care of me,” I snap. I’m not being fair to him right now, but I can’t seem to be able to stop.

He shrugs. “Okay.”

I frown, not having expected that answer. “Good.”

“You should get some rest.”

“Like that’s gonna happen.” It doesn’t matter how exhausted I am, the pain and worry keep doing laps in my brain, making me feel jittery and like my skin is suddenly too tight.

I jump when there’s a knock on the half-closed door. When it pushes open, I see Cillian stiffen as two uniformed police officers step inside, followed by the newest nurse.

“Are you up for a few questions?” she asks.

“No. He’s not,” Cillian answers.

“I don’t need you to answer for me.” I’m arguing with him even though I am not, in fact, up for a few questions.

“They can come back. I’d prefer it, but the officers insisted,” the nurse says.

Honestly, I want to forget this night ever happened. The best way to do that is to put it behind me. I turn to the officers and nurse. “I just want to get this over with.” Then maybe I can get on with my life.

I was attacked.

They have my identification.

She nods, then looks at Cillian. “Please let me know if it’s too much.”

I huff. Is she supposed to be talking to him? But then, as far as she knows, he’s really my boyfriend, and I haven’t said he couldn’t be in the room.

The nurse walks out, and the older officer, this white guy wearing a scowl, tells Cillian, “Sir, if you could—”

“Not a chance. I’m not leaving.” Cillian crosses his arms.

“What’s your name, son?” he asks.

Cillian’s expression changes to this dangerous, cocky smile that makes my stomach flip.

“Cillian O’Shea. You might have heard of my father—Rian O’Shea.” That fast, the expression on their faces changes, the older one’s tighter and angrier, while the other’s… I swear it almost looks like awe, the way his eyes sparkle and the corner of his mouth pulls up. “He’s mine, and I’m staying.”

Um…did those guys hit me in the head harder than I thought?

What does he mean, I’m his? But then, I know he doesn’t mean that.

It’s a power thing with them, always is, and Cillian’s simply exerting his over these men who should be in charge.

The fact that neither argues with him says they’re not, though.

How is it that even the police are subservient to the O’Sheas?

Tell him to leave.

This is wrong. Everything about Cillian, the mini mob, and his family is wrong, but my mouth doesn’t take the order from my brain when I tell myself to make him go.

“Is it okay if he stays?” the younger officer asks.

“Yes.” It’s because I’m tired, because my head hurts and my emotions are all over the place. Once I get out of here, I’ll cut contact with Cillian. Even with Dean if necessary.

They introduce themselves—Rogers and Simmons. They ask me questions, and I answer to the best of my ability. Thinking about it makes my heart beat faster, makes it more difficult to sit still, makes my head pound harder too.

It takes me a moment to realize Cillian has moved closer, that he’s standing right beside me, like a bodyguard.

“I think that’s enough,” he says.

“We have a few more questions.”

“Fuck off with your questions. It’s not as if you’ll figure out who did this to him.

” The anger in Cillian’s voice sends a shiver down my spine.

I’m not scared of him, I don’t think, but does he really believe they won’t find them?

He’s likely correct. I’ve studied law enough to know that, but I’ve never been on this end of it, never been hurt before.

Never had someone steal my IDs so I know they know who I am.

“How do we know you didn’t have anything to do with it?” Rogers asks, taking on the role of bad cop.

Cillian laughs humorlessly. “Prove it, if that’s what you think. I wonder how well that will turn out for you.”

“Cillian,” I say, trying to silently ask him what he’s doing.

He’ll get himself in trouble for me. Maybe I should want that.

Maybe I would in any other situation. There are rules and laws, and they’re made to be followed—though people like Cillian seem to be exempt.

Cillian has maybe done to someone else what was done to me tonight.

Him and the mini mob are no better than those guys.

I squeeze my eyes shut at the thought, as if it will erase the images in my head.

“You good?” His hand touches my cheek, and I pull away, which makes pain shoot through my head. “Yeah, he’s done. Get the fuck out,” he says to the officers.

“Don’t. I just want to finish.”

Simmons, the fanboy, asks, “Is there anything missing of yours?”

“His IDs,” Cillian answers for me. “They left his money, debit card, and everything else in his wallet but took his school ID and driver’s license.”

The officers make eye contact with Cillian.

“Don’t look at him,” I tell them. “Look at me. I’m the one they’ll be looking for.”

“You’ll be fine. You’ll be with us,” Cillian says.

“What are you talking about? I won’t be with you.”

“Yes, you will,” he argues.

“Is this man bothering you?” Rogers asks me.

Cillian huffs out a laugh.

“No,” I reply. “He’s fine.” I’ll deal with him later when my head isn’t about to explode.

They ask a couple more questions, then give me their cards, telling me to call them if I need anything.

It’s not until they reach the door that I ask, “Do you know why? What happened?”

“They were stealing the car,” Simmons replies.

“They couldn’t do that without hurting him?”

“Yes,” Rogers says, then gives Cillian a pointed look. “They could’ve. But that’s the thing with criminals—it’s never just about the car or whatever they’re doing; they like to hurt people, and eventually, they all pay the price for it.”

My throat is raw, feels like it’s closing up. He’s talking about Cillian now, about the mini mob. Do they hurt people? They have to. Does Cillian enjoy it as much as the men who attacked us tonight did?

As soon as they leave, closing the door behind them, Cillian pulls the chair up to my bedside. “You need pain meds? I can get the nurse in here to give you some. You really should get some rest. Those fucking pigs shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t pretend to be nice. Don’t pretend you’re not exactly like the people who hurt me tonight.”

The smile slides off his face. Cillian pushes his hands into his slacks. What even is that? Why does he dress like that all the time?

His voice is steady, unemotional when he says, “I don’t pretend to be anything other than what I am.

I know I’m not the hero. And I might be the bad guy, but I sure as shit am nothing like those motherfuckers who hurt you tonight.

Three on one? Those fucking pussies don’t belong in the same universe as we do. ”

“Because you wouldn’t attack an old man? That makes you better?”

“I never said I was better. I told you, I know who I am. Get some fucking sleep, Kitten. You look like shit.”

I feel like it, but still, I flip him off. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why? It’s what you are. Rory said you’re our brave little bunny, but you’re not. You’ve got some sharp claws, and you know how to use them. It’s my favorite thing about you.” And then he winks, and damned if heat doesn’t flush to my groin.

I don’t want him, I don’t want him, I don’t want him.

He’s supposed to be everything I hate in this world. He stands for everything I hate…yet I can’t hate him.

“I’m not your anything,” I say.

He shrugs. “Whatever you say, Kitten.”

I don’t have the energy to argue with him, and luckily, the nurse comes in, ready to medicate me, as if she obeys everything Cillian says too…and she didn’t even have to hear him say it to know he wanted her to do it.