by Shen, L. J.
“When did you grow a conscience and start caring about children?” Sam asked.
“You haven’t met the little devils. If something happens to their parents, no one would want to adopt them.”
“Fine. He can live. I can still throw my weight around.”
“Physical extortion won’t get you far.” I dropped the papers on the table. “He’s got something on me, and I’m waiting to see how he’s going to use it. We need to play this carefully.”
“What does he have on you?” Hunter leaned forward. “You’re disgustingly perfect. Dad’s fucking mo òrga. What could it possibly be?”
I smiled. “We have to keep it clean. Let’s leave it at that.”
“In that case, I’m with Whitehall on trying to squash that beef,” Sam admitted, tossing his lighter on the table. “He is going ahead with the lawsuit. You can get him in a few months when things calm down. In the meantime, your best shot is finding common ground with Green Living.”
“Cillian will never cower.” My brother shook his head.
“Retreating is not submitting.” Sam stood. “If Kill wants to win this thing, he has to play it smart. This is round one out of many. History doesn’t remember the battle. Only the name of the man who threw the final knockout.”
Sam wasn’t wrong.
What he didn’t know was that Andrew Arrowsmith was the last man to throw the punch before we parted ways many years ago.
And this time? I wasn’t going to stop until he saw stars.
My husband did an admirable job of avoiding me for the entire length of our first day at the ranch.
He dodged our meals together, escaped the walk we all did on the trail, and spent long hours with his horses.
Was I disappointed? Yes. Was I going to let it ruin the weekend for me? Hell no. I hadn’t gone on very many trips outside of Boston in my twenty-six years, and this was a golden opportunity to have fun with my friends.
For the first time since I’d married Paxton, I wasn’t broke. I didn’t have to look over my shoulder on the street for fear I’d be ambushed. My life took a turn for the better, no matter how empty it had still felt without Cillian fully in it.
The last day on the ranch, Belle announced she wanted to horseback ride with just us girls.
“But you don’t know how to ride.” Aisling tilted her head, forever the voice of reason.
Belle shrugged, popping a cherry into her mouth over the breakfast table.
“So? You can teach me. Besides, I’ve done my fair share of riding in my life, just not bareback.” She winked. “Safety first.”
“Thanks for ruining breakfast.” Sailor saluted to Belle with her orange juice.
“Seriously, though, who goes to a ranch without riding?” Belle wondered.
My sister had a point.
“Cillian won’t like it if we use his horses,” Ash warned.
“Cillian doesn’t like anything,” I snapped, a little too harshly.
Sailor snorted into her orange juice. “Preach. I actually think it’s a great idea. Not only because it would piss off Persy’s husband, but also because an opportunity to ride horses like Cillian’s doesn’t come often. Each of them costs like 300k or something. Unfortunately”—she patted her rounding belly—“riding is off the table for me. But I’ll cheer you on with a bag of Cheetos in hand. Live vicariously through you.”
My need to stick it in Kill’s face was greater than my fear of mounting a 2,200-pound beast that could break my neck with one wrong move.
“Actually, I agree. I think we should ride,” I chirped.
“Really?” Everyone at the table turned to me in surprise. I wasn’t exactly known for my rebellious streak. I nodded. It was high time I tried new things. And since having a genuine relationship with my husband wasn’t going to be one of them, why not take up horseback riding?
“But Cillian—” Ash started.
“I’ll handle him.” I raised a hand to stop her. “Tell him I held you at gunpoint if it comes to it.”
“Well, then.” Aisling clapped her hands together. “Let’s get changed and meet at the stables in an hour.”
I went through the motions of getting changed, then met Ash and Belle outside the barn. Aisling, who’d learned to ride like her two older brothers from infancy, led Hamilton out of his stall by his bridle, patting his brown coat with a smile.
“He’s the sweetest out of the bunch. He was my training horse after I graduated from ponies.”
“Dang, Ash. That’s the whitest thing I’ve ever heard.” Belle checked her ass in her tight riding trousers with her phone camera.
Ash led Hamilton out of the stables and cantered with him. She explained to us the basic anatomy of the horse, the signals, and what they indicated. We bumped into Hunter, Sam, and Devon on our way out of the barn to the trail. The track wrapped around the smoky mountain like a ribbon.
The men strode into the stables just as we got out.
“You’re riding, too?” Aisling asked, turning tomato-red as soon as she noticed Sam. True to his Sam-ness, he ignored her existence as he breezed past her.
He wasn’t rude to his boss and best friend’s baby sister. But there was no doubt he considered her off the menu.
“Bet.” Hunter fluffed her hair, popping his gum. “Where’s my better half?”
“In the cabin, reading.”
“Bomb. The only stud she should be hanging out with while preggers is me. Dev, can you help Belle get on a horse? I’ll do Persy.”
“I don’t need any help,” Belle protested.
Devon’s eyes ran over my sister as though she was his favorite dessert while a sinister smirk tugged at his lips.
“I like her fire, Hunt.” Devon jerked his thumb toward my sister.
“Great,” she chirped, “because you’re about to get third-degree burns if you keep objectifying me.”
“He’s not objectifying you.” Hunter shook his head. “He’s trying to keep you alive. Your ass has never ridden before.”
“We have Ash to help us.” I squatted down, adjusting my riding boots.
Ignoring my words, Hunter picked me up from the ground like I was a milk crate, carrying me to Hamilton. He untied the reins on the horse, put my boot in the stirrups, and helped me swing onto the saddle, holding my waist.
“Ash is good, but she’s not a professional. If I bring you back with as much as a scratch, your husband will make me bleed from places that aren’t even on my body.”
“He is right.” Aisling smiled apologetically. “Both about my horseback riding abilities and about Kill.”
“Cillian ignores my existence.”
“You’re still his,” Sam cemented, businesslike. “I don’t need to be physically present in my car in order not to want someone to scratch it.”
“Tell me he did not just say what I think he said.” Belle pointed at Sam, scowling.
Sam stood tall, nonchalant as ever. “So dramatic, Penrose.”
“So chauvinistic, Brennan.”
After much bickering, we headed to the trail. I shook with anxiety and exhilaration even though Hunter was riding close to me on Jay and often leaned over to pat Hamilton and give me visual and verbal instructions.
Behind us, Belle was on Washington, Sam on Madison, Ash on Adams, and Devon on Jefferson. Devon and Belle seemed to overcome the initial frostiness. They were bantering like old friends, hitting it off instantly, while Aisling tried to strike up a conversation with Sam and got slammed each time.
Twenty minutes into ascending the trail to the mountains. I heard the gallop of a horse behind us. Hunter turned his head and groaned, pointing his finger to his temple like it was a gun, cocking it and shooting himself with a comic poof!
“Don’t tell me you didn’t tell your husband you’re riding.”
“I didn’t tell my husband I was riding.” I stared ahead, ignoring the prickle of fear pinching my spine.
Hunter dragged a hand over his face, tipping his head back. �
��God-fucking-dammit, Pers.”
God-fucking-dammit indeed.
Within three seconds, Cillian was riding by my side on Franklin, pushing Hunter out of the way, forcing him to ride behind us. Everything, from his good looks to his flawless posture, bothered me. His easy movements put us all to shame.
He didn’t wear any riding gear. Not even a helmet.
He did wear an expression of someone who was dangerously close to committing a massacre.
“The hell do you think you’re doing?” His eyes tapered, zoning in on me like a weapon.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” I used the sweetest, most innocent voice in my arsenal.
“Pissing me off.”
“Thought you were above human emotions.”
“This one seems to be reoccurring every time you’re around. You found your calling.”
“Ha,” I gasped, “so I am good at something. And here you thought I was average.”
“Hunter.” Kill snapped his fingers behind him, his hard stare giving my cheek frostbite. “We’re splitting. Lead the group to another trail. I’ll help Persephone get back to the ranch.”
“No, you won’t,” I countered, feeling abnormally irritated. I was the mellowest woman in Boston—voted Most Likely to Replace Mother Teresa in my high school yearbook—but somehow, my husband made me feel angrier than Pax ever did even though Pax had screwed me over so hard I’d almost died.
“Last I checked, it’s a free country. I’m allowed to ride a horse, hubs. Whether you like it or not.”
“The country is free, but the horses are not. Hamilton belongs to me, and I don’t want you riding him. Ceann beag.” Kill turned to his brother again, snarling, “Beat it before I beat you.”
“Sorry, doll. There’s a reason he has a demon in his garden fountain and not a cherub or a fawn. You married Satan, and I don’t want the fucker to assign me a room in hell. He’ll probably put me in the same cul-de-sac with Hitler and the dude who invented berry-flavored La Croix. I deserve better neighbors. Just following orders.” Hunter pushed two fingers into his mouth and whistled, redirecting our friends to a side trail, leaving Cillian and me on the main one.
Lava simmered in my belly. Every inch of my body charred with humiliation.
How dare he scold me publicly after avoiding me the entire weekend?
Our entire marriage?
In the back of my head, something else also bugged me. Something completely trivial.
Cillian had a demon-shaped fountain in his garden, but I hadn’t seen it before. Not even the day Petar snuck me into the house for a tour when Kill wasn’t home.
“I’m getting you off this horse,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Why don’t we start with you just getting me off? You seem to be having trouble in that department,” I hissed out.
“The first and last time I touched you, you came so hard I was worried my dick would have to be removed from you surgically.”
“That was accidental.” All the blood rushing to my face made me hot and sweaty.
“So was my giving you an orgasm.”
“You really want me to hate you, don’t you?”
I didn’t know what I expected when I married him, but it definitely wasn’t this. The hermetic resistance no one could pierce.
“Sailor is not riding,” he pointed out.
“Sailor is pregnant.”
“As far as we know, you could be, too.”
His temper was frayed, and I couldn’t figure out why. I’d stayed well away from him the entire weekend. What else did he want? He seemed to be put off by my existence, and I was growing tired of it.
“If I am pregnant, it’s at a very early stage.”
“All the more reason to be careful.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Kill. Don’t give me this bullshit as though you actually care about my well-being.” My voice cracked, and I turned to face him, momentarily forgetting I was on a horse.
His nostrils flared, and he let go of his rein to pop his fingers.
“Do not curse.”
“Or else?” My chin felt wobbly, much like my insides. My grip on the reins tightened. “What’re you gonna do about it? You’re already the worst possible husband a woman could have.”
That wasn’t exactly true, seeing as Pax was the reigning champion of Worst Husband for this calendar year, but I wanted to hurt him back. To make him feel the way he made me feel.
“By the way, are we going to have sex once a month and pray I get knocked up? How’re we going to do this thing? Please let me know because I’m starting to realize you haven’t thought your genius plan through!”
My voice carried with an echo that ricocheted on the treetops, shaking the ground beneath Hamilton’s hooves.
Hushed murmurs seeped from the parallel trail our friends were taking.
“…my sister!”
“…can hold her own.”
“I swear to God, if he hurts her…”
“She’ll hurt him back. You said it yourself, Belle. She’s not a kid anymore.”
Our friends were arguing whether to step in or not.
Now everyone knew we were a mess, and whatever was left of my hope to make this marriage resemble normalcy flew out the window.
“You’re being a brat,” Cillian said coolly, regaining his composure.
“You’re being a coward.” My teeth chattered with fury.
Hamilton stirred beneath me, his strides jerky and uneven. I ran a hand over my face. “Seriously, if you’re going to ignore me for the rest of our lives, just grant me a divorce. I’ll pay you back the money, and we’ll forget this ever happened.”
“Never.” His tone turned steely. Punishing. “I’ll give you a lot of things, Flower Girl, but divorce won’t be one of them.”
“That so? I’ll tell Sailor, Belle, and Hunter. I’m sure they’d love to know what you roped me into.”
“Go ahead.” He tapped the side of his boot to his horse, making it go faster. “See how much power other people have on me. You’ll find the exact amount is absolutely none.”
“So you won’t have me, but you won’t let me go. Do you just want me to be miserable like you?”
His nostrils flared. He looked like he was about to say something, but of course he didn’t. He never did. He never explained himself to me.
“I hate you,” I screamed, and without thinking, stomped my foot to the horse’s side. Hamilton bolted forward in a rage. Before I knew what was happening, I was flailing above the horse, my body suspended over the saddle, bumping against his sides as he sprinted. I yelped, trying to grab the reins, my fingers grasping air.
Shit, shit, shit.
I looked back. My heart was in my throat. I’d ascended the mountain far enough that I knew if I fell from Hamilton, I’d roll down a few dozen feet and get seriously hurt. Break a bone or two, at the very least.
Kill rode beside me, fast and furious, barking instructions at me, but I couldn’t hear him over the wind and the adrenaline buzzing between my ears.
Hamilton halted, sloping on his rear legs with a neigh, throwing me off his back.
I tipped over and flew in the air, squeezing my eyes shut and bracing myself for the fall. A sudden, harsh jerk threw me back up and over a horse, my midriff smashing against a saddle.
For a second, I thought I managed to climb back on top of Hamilton, but when I opened my eyes, I saw I was perched on Franklin, my body slung across his back like a potato sack.
Cillian wasn’t on Franklin anymore.
I heard a hiss and craned my neck sideways. Kill was behind me, sitting on the ground. He got up, not bothering to clean himself as he darted in our direction, putting his fingers in his mouth and whistling for Franklin to stop.
Cillian limped but picked up his pace in order to reach us.
The horse slowed to a gradual stop, dutifully waiting for his owner. Kill stopped when he reached us. He grabbed my waist and hoisted me down, making sure both my feet
were on the ground before he eased his grasp on me.
I collapsed against my husband, shivering uncontrollably.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” I kept mumbling.
I gathered Kill’s face, examining him. His entire left cheek, including the temple and neck, was scratched and bloodied. He hit the ground face-first when he threw himself off his own horse and flung me over it in order to save me.
The realization slammed into me.
My husband saved me.
Put my safety in front of his own.
Without giving it a second thought.
He was bleeding, limping, his expensive clothes ruined and torn.
He looked at me as though he was taking inventory and making sure I was okay. His smoky, amber eyes darted from my face to my shoulders, down my body, then up again to my neck, arms, and fingers.
After everything that happened, he was checking on me.
Instead of thanking him—the sane, grown-up thing to do—I burst into childish tears, dropping my head to his shoulder, clutching his shirt like he was going to fade into smoke.
“Fuck,” he said gruffly. It was the first time I’d heard him curse, and for some stupid reason, it made my heart sing. He patted the back of my head awkwardly.
“Now, now…uh.”
He didn’t know what to say. He wanted to comfort me but had never done it before.
“You’re not hurt,” he said steely. Robotically. “I checked.”
“But you are.” My tears kept rolling.
“I’ll survive, much to some people’s dismay.” He brushed my flyaways with his thumbs, wiping my face clean before resting his bloodied cheek on top of my head. His other hand ran along my back. “Shhh. It was just a little scare. You’re fine.”
“That’s not the point! You’re not fine!”
I was wailing—full-blown wailing—and there was nothing he could do to stop me. So he didn’t. He let me fall apart in his arms, holding me together.
“I-I don’t even know what I did wrong. Ash said Hamilton is your best horse for rookies.”
Realizing I wasn’t in a state to ride back, he sank down to the grass, taking a seat while I was in his lap, my arms looped around his shoulders.