Page 112 of Wasted

Cillian bolted past, bypassing the kitchen to directly access the living room.

“Victoria!” Her name shot from his lips louder than he intended, carried by the force of his worry.

“Keep your voice down. Sydney’s sleeping.” Victoria sat on the sofa in dim lighting, leaning back against the cushions. He’d never seen her have anything less than perfectly straight posture. She must be badly hurt.

“And you’re scaring Max.” She was giving orders, though. That had to be a good sign.

Was Max even around? Oh, there. The large dog watched Cillian, standing alert by the armchair.

Cillian strode to the sofa, staring down at Victoria. “You were hit by a car? Are you hurt?”

She let out a sigh and sat upright, slowly, as if it hurt. “I knew I shouldn’t have let Robert send you that text. What did he tell you?”

“That somebody tried to run you over in front of your house.” Fury burned through Cillian’s insides. If he ever got his hands on whoever tried to kill her, he’d?—

“Not in those exact words, but close.” Robert’s lighthearted tone grated on Cillian’s nerves as the guy walked into the living room and pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I did not say you were hit by a car.” He gave Victoria a smile that was way too amused for Cillian’s taste. Didn’t the guy care that his sister had nearly gotten killed?

Wait. Was that a bandage on Victoria’s forehead? Cillian bent over her and touched the edge of the beige-colored bandage. “You are hurt. How bad is it?”

She pulled her head away. “Not severe enough for stitches.”

He straightened. “How’d it happen if you weren’t hit?”

“I dove to avoid being struck, and my head scraped the icy snow along the curb.”

“It was really something. Here we’d always thought Victoria wasn’t athletic.” Robert’s teasing prompted her to level her brother with a narrowed-eye stare.

Okay, that was a little funny. Cillian held back the smile that wanted to come. “We should get it checked out. And you might be hurt elsewhere, too.” He pulled his phone out of his back pocket.

“Don’t you dare call the police or EMTs.” Her warning tone stopped him. “I’m a medical professional trained in wound care. I know I don’t need additional treatment.”

“What about the scrape on your arm? And you were limping at first.”

She glared at Robert.

“You have more injuries?” The anger resurged, heating Cillian’s insides. “I can’t believe this. Whoever did this is going to pay, I promise you that.”

“Cillian, no.” She brought her beautiful eyes up to his face. “Don’t take matters into your own hands or seek revenge.”

“You don’t think Clinton Glenn did this?” Robert stepped closer to them, looking at Cillian.

“He couldn’t have.” Cillian nearly gagged on the admission. If it was him, Cillian could go back to his house and settle this right now. “I was watching him the whole night, right up until you texted. He was still at home then, with all the lights on. I don’t think he’d gone to bed, but he didn’t leave either. I was watching the driveway the entire time.”

“Then I really wish I’d seen the license plate.” Robert’s eyebrows dipped. “It was too dark.”

“What kind of car was it?”

“Kind of a nondescript, dark sedan. Hard to tell at night what color, but I think burgundy or brown.”

“Great. That doesn’t match the shooter outside Judy’s or Glenn’s ride.”

“So we were mistaken about Clinton Glenn killing Thomas? And trying to kill you?” Victoria pressed her fingers to her forehead as she squinted up at Cillian.

She was in pain. He could tell. Maybe a headache?

But she was still thinking about him, not herself. She cared more about somebody trying to kill him than the fact that someone had just tried to run her over.

His heart swelled behind his ribs. This woman was really something.