Page 9 of Twisted Secrets (The O’Malleys #3)

C illian had taken a beating a time or two.

He’d always had a mouth on him, and sometimes it talked him into more trouble than it talked him out of—and that wasn’t even taking into consideration his upbringing and all that other shit.

There was an ongoing threat of violence that existed in the background of all their lives from the time they were old enough to understand what their father really did to provide the lifestyle they enjoyed.

For all that, he hadn’t understood why two strangers chose tonight of all nights to jump him.

Not until they’d let slip Ricky Halloran’s name.

The sins of the past keep coming back to bite us in the ass over and over again, like a snake that’s eating its own tail. We hate them for Devlin. They hate us for Ricky. And on and on it goes.

He concentrated on breathing while he took inventory of his injuries.

He’d have a black eye for sure tomorrow—Mother would love that—and more bruises than he cared to count, but nothing seemed to be broken.

Thank Christ for small mercies. Does James know his people are slipping his hold? Does Carrigan?

A worry for another day. He braced himself and sat up.

“You shouldn’t be moving.” Olivia, his unexpected avenging angel, hovered nearly close enough to touch, but made no move to help him other than checking over her shoulder, presumably to make sure the Halloran men hadn’t changed their minds and come back for round two.

“I’m fine.” Mostly fine. The alley was spinning a little in a way that sure as hell wasn’t natural. He touched the back of his head and winced when his hand came away bloody. “Shit.”

She sat back on her heels, the shotgun carefully pointed at the ground away from him. “Let’s get you into the bar.”

The order surprised him. She obviously didn’t like him that much, sex aside, but if she was the type of woman to charge into an alley to defend a man she barely knew, it stood to reason she’d want to make sure he didn’t lie back down and die in that same alley.

His pride reared up and took control of his mouth. “I’m okay.” It was only a few blocks back to the house. He should be able to make it there and convince one of the men to patch him up without telling anyone how bad he must look right now. They did this sort of thing all the time.

“You’re bleeding from your head and weaving even though you’re sitting down. You’re not okay.” She hesitated. “Look, I didn’t actually call the cops, and if those guys come back, it’ll mean trouble for both of us.”

That got him moving. It was one thing to put himself in danger. It was entirely another thing to bring her into it. She was an innocent bystander, and even in his line of business, innocent bystanders weren’t something to just mow down. Devlin was as innocent as they come, and that didn’t save him.

Fuck off.

He used the brick wall to struggle to his feet, and nearly toppled over when the asphalt beneath him tilted.

Olivia was there, sliding beneath his arm and keeping him upright.

Cillian took a deep breath and got a face full of lavender and vanilla.

How the hell did she manage to smell so good after working a full shift in a pub?

He took a step, having to lean on her more than he wanted to. “Maybe I’m not completely okay.”

“No, really?” She guided him inside, pausing to set the shotgun aside and lock the door behind her. “You don’t have the sense God gave a toddler.”

He wouldn’t know. He didn’t exactly spend a lot of time around kids since he’d stopped being one himself. He tried to picture a toddler and came up with a grubby little Tasmanian Devil. “I think you just insulted me.”

“Only a little.” She pulled out a chair. “Sit. I’ll grab a rag and see if we can clean you up.”

“Why are you doing this?”

She’d already turned away, but her shoulders tensed at his question. “Because if you bleed all over Benji’s floor, he’ll never let you through the door again.”

That wasn’t what he meant, and she had to know it, but she was already gone, disappearing into the back.

He braced his elbows on the table and did his damnedest not to let the nausea that made his stomach lurch have control.

She was right. The big bar owner would be pissed as hell if he showed up tomorrow to bloodstains on the wood floor. But there was more to it than that.

He waited until she reappeared with a few washcloths in her hand to say, “You didn’t have to help me.”

“I know.” She set the cloths on the table.

“This isn’t going to be pleasant.” She gingerly touched his head, sifting her fingers through his hair as she searched for the wound.

He could have helped her find it immediately, but the feeling of her touching him—even in such shitty circumstances—felt too good to cut short.

I’m a fucking creep. Enjoying her running her fingers through my hair when I’m bleeding and bruised all to hell. Classy .

She found the spot his head had met brick wall and felt around. “It’s a little gapey, so it might need stitches, but I should be able to get the bleeding stopped at least. Hold still.”

Easier said than done. But he kind of liked her taking care of him, so he obeyed while she folded up a washcloth and pressed it carefully against his wound. It hurt like a bitch, but Cillian managed to keep his curse internal. Barely.

“You don’t have to stay. I’ll call someone.

” Though who, he didn’t know. Both his father and Aiden would rip him a new one for letting those Halloran idiots get the drop on him—and then turn around and start plotting revenge.

He wasn’t interested in aggravating the issue.

Things were already tense enough between the almost-war and then Carrigan defecting to their side.

He wasn’t going to be the one to light the match that made the whole thing explode.

I am going to have to give Carrigan a heads-up, though.

She needs to know James is losing his hold on some of his men.

“You know, for someone who was trying to get into my pants a few hours ago, you’re sure ready to see the back of me.”

“It’s a seriously superior backside.”

She surprised him by laughing and, holy shit , what a laugh.

It was honeyed whiskey, and enough to have him thinking about things best done in private, the slide of skin against skin, his mouth on her.

Her being so close didn’t help, either. It didn’t matter that he was covered in his own blood and had just had his ass handed to him.

She smelled like heaven and looked like his favorite kind of temptation with those cutoff shorts over fishnets and a T-shirt of a band he’d never heard of.

Olivia bent down to look into his eyes. “You probably have a concussion, though I can’t blame your lame jokes on that.”

“Ouch. Here I am, trying to lighten the mood, and you’re mercilessly cutting me down.”

“I believe that was the men in the alley that I just saved you from.” She hesitated, conflict written all over her face. Finally she used her free hand to sweep her hair off one shoulder. “What was that all about? I thought it was a shakedown, but it wasn’t, was it? It was personal.”

Even though he knew better, he found himself telling her the truth. It wouldn’t endear him to her any, but it wasn’t like he could make her opinion of him worse . “How familiar are you with Boston’s underbelly?”

“Familiar enough.” She shrugged. “O’Malley. Sheridan. Halloran. All chomping for a piece of the same bone, just like it is in every major city.”

His curiosity almost got the best of him—what did she know about the crime scenes in other cities?

He’d figured she’d have at least basic knowledge since she worked for Benji and he liked to keep his employees aware of any trouble that might come their way as a result of his being one of the main pubs the O’Malleys frequented, but there were some serious shadows in her eyes. He’d get into that later.

But she’d asked him a question, and he’d already decided to answer it honestly.

“Well, it’s not as dangerous as it was a year ago.

The O’Malleys and the Sheridans are tight now.

I wouldn’t say they actively work together, but they’re not eyeing each other’s backs and caressing their knives at the moment. ”

“I see.” She leaned up to check the bandage, giving him an eyeful of her chest. He wasn’t a saint enough to ignore that, so he looked his fill. Olivia was built slim, but from the outline of her T-shirt, her breasts were perfectly shaped. Should have explored them at length when I had the chance.

He clenched his teeth against the physical reaction trying to perk up. She was playing goddamn nursemaid right now. She wouldn’t appreciate him popping wood in the middle of that.

Worse, she might stop touching him if he did.

To distract himself, he kept talking. “Technically the Hallorans and the rest of everyone are at peace, but there are some undertones that are hard to ignore. Plus, when shit goes sideways, it’s hard to let that kind of thing go, even if the people up top demand it.

” Like Devlin. He didn’t blame those assholes for wanting some revenge after Ricky died, though he knew for a fact it was an unsanctioned hit.

Carrigan might be dead to the family, but she would never turn on them like that .

And if she wouldn’t, James wouldn’t. From all accounts, that sadistic bastard Ricky was well liked by the men under him—most likely because James had kept him reined in as much as possible so they hadn’t seen the destruction he was truly capable of—so it stood to reason that someone would come along at some point and decide to take their price out of enemy hide.

Except the O’Malleys weren’t the ones who killed Ricky Halloran.