Sinful Empire (The Anti-Heroes Collection Book 3)

by Meghan March

  As soon as the man’s hands landed on me, I spun around, grinding my teeth to keep from screaming out in pain. “I can help myself into the car.”

  A glimmer of amusement flitted through Frankie’s eyes. “Get in the front seat, kid.”

  I hobbled toward the door and opened it, practically collapsing inside before slamming it shut. Thankfully, no one could hear my hiss of pain because Morello and Frankie were still outside, facing Ernie and the cops. Their voices came loud and clear through the open back door.

  “Sir, with all due respect—”

  “You’ve never heard the name Lachlan Mount. You will never repeat it. You’ve never seen him before. You will forget he exists. He’s part of my organization now, and if you so much as think about going after him, I’ll watch while my people skin you alive and laugh when you squeal like the pigs you are. Then I’ll put bullets in the heads of everyone you love. How’s that sound?”

  All three men, including the two in uniform, bobbed their heads like idiots and sputtered out replies.

  “Understood, sir.”

  “Never heard of him before.”

  “Don’t know who you’re talking about, Mr. Morello. We’re just heading back to the station.”

  Their fear of Morello rolled off them like stink. Or maybe one of them shit themselves. From the way the cops’ legs were quivering, I’d believe it. And then there was the wet spot spreading down Ernie’s pants.

  He really did piss himself. No fucking way.

  Then again, I wasn’t surprised. Morello’s posture was rigid. His orders absolute. I had no doubt in my mind he’d kill them all right here and follow through on everything he said.

  I’d never seen that kind of power in action before. Never seen that kind of fear on any cop’s face. I soaked it up.

  What would it be like to command that kind of respect?

  Morello climbed into the backseat of the Mercedes, and Frankie closed the door.

  “Don’t make me regret this, Mount, because I will fucking bury you alive if you betray me or mine.”

  “Understood, sir. You won’t regret it.”

  “Good.”

  Frankie climbed in and fired up the busted car that saved my life. Somewhere along the bumpy ride to wherever the hell we were going, I silently passed out from the pain.

  Keira

  Present day

  Pain slices through me as I regain consciousness. The car door flies open, and gravity sends me tilting to the side. Strong arms stop my fall.

  “I got you. Open your eyes, hellion. Open your fucking eyes for me. Goddammit, I’m not going to lose you now.”

  That voice. Deep. Dark. Rough. It was the voice of the devil, but not anymore. Now it’s the voice of the man I was furious I wasn’t going to be allowed to keep after we returned to New Orleans.

  My eyelids flicker open, and I feel like there’s a dent where my skull smacked the window as we hurtled around the corner and plowed through a lamppost. A headache pounds relentlessly in my temple. When I meet the familiar dark gaze, his dread morphs into relief. The burning heat in those eyes used to send tremors of fear shuddering through me, but now it gives me strength.

  “Thank fucking Christ.” His forehead touches mine lightly, and I breathe in his woodsy citrus scent.

  “You think you’re going to get rid of me that easily?” My words come out weak and slurred, with none of the confidence I intended. I try to sit up, but pain stabs into my right side. “Dammit, that hurts. What happened?”

  “Doesn’t matter. You’re gonna be fine. I swear to you on my life that you will be fine.”

  The way he says it, with absolute conviction underlying every word, I believe him.

  I drop my gaze from his and take in the blood covering my shirt and the shards of glass everywhere. “Oh shit.”

  His big hand grips my chin and brings my attention back up to his eyes, but not before I see the red staining his clothes as well.

  “Oh God. We need help.”

  “We’re going to be fine. Understand me? You need to hold it together. Can you do that?”

  I nod as my skull threatens to crack from the thumping. Bile rises in my throat.

  “Block out the pain, Keira. You can do it.”

  I take a shallow breath and shudder. “I can do it,” I say, no clue if I’m lying or not.

  “Good girl.” He rips off his suit jacket and presses it against my side. “Hold this tight, like your fucking life depends on it. You got me?”

  When Lachlan Mount says to do something like your life depends on it, it actually might. I remember the dread I saw in his eyes only moments before.

  “Am I dying?” Instead of sadness, anger rushes in. I’m not ready. I’m not done with this world. I’m not done with this man.

  “You are not fucking dying. I won’t allow it.” His words are backed by steely determination and raw tenacity.

  “Okay.” I press the jacket tighter against the source of the pain in my right side as he slides an arm around my back.

  “We’re getting the fuck out of here. My people are on their way. Hold tight.”

  I give him another nod, stars bursting in my vision with every movement as Lachlan lifts me out of the car, staying low and rounding the rear of it to pause between the crumpled front end and the building it crashed into. He stumbles with a grunt, and the sound of his suffering spears into me worse than my own.

  “Stop. You’re hurt. Don’t—”

  “Not until you’re safe. Not taking any fucking chances with you. Where the hell are they?” His head swivels from side to side as my vision threatens to go dark again.

  What’s wrong with my head?

  I force the fuzziness down because there’s no way I’m passing out again. I’m stronger than that.

  I squeeze his hand in an effort to get his attention. “I’m not losing you either. Do you understand me? Stop being such a stubborn bastard.”

  His gaze drops to me, and any evidence of the pain he felt a moment ago seems to vanish as one corner of his mouth quirks up. “Deal.”

  Tires screech and I turn my head, wincing as agony shoots through my temples. Only I can’t see anything because Lachlan angles us away from the street, gripping me tighter and turning his back to the oncoming car. Using himself as a human shield.

  “Don’t you dare—”

  “Shut up, Keira. When it comes to you, I’ll do whatever I have to.” His big hand cups the back of my head and presses it against his chest.

  Another car screeches to a halt, and the sound of doors opening penetrates my pounding head. Footsteps thump against the pavement as Lachlan turns his head.

  “Thank fuck,” he whispers, his body relaxing as he swivels around and I catch sight of Scar.

  Another face that used to inspire fear now only brings relief. Scar bolts toward us, as silent as always, but fierce rage is stamped on his every feature.

  Lachlan clasps me tighter against his chest. “Take her. Lock her down. Your life for hers. Understand me?”

  The silent man nods, and Lachlan loosens his grip on me. “Don’t you fucking die on me, Keira. I swear I’ll rip down those pearly gates and come for you myself.”

  Scar’s arms form a cradle around me, a hold I know all too well, but my fingers won’t release their grip on Lachlan’s collar. The fabric stretches as Scar steps away, tearing my grip free.

  “I’m not leaving you!” I struggle in Scar’s arms, even though every moment makes my stomach roil and my body cry out for me to stop. “Put me down. I’m staying with him.”

  Scar grunts in my ear, and my gaze fixes on the shirt Lachlan’s wearing. The left side is completely soaked through with red. At first, I think it’s mine, but the torn fabric and the steadily pumping flow tell me I’m wrong.

  “Leave me! Save him! He needs you more.” Tears flow down my face as Scar holds me tighter, not letting my pathetic struggles deter him from taking me farther and farther away from Lachlan.

  Two o
ther men rush toward us, but I don’t know them.

  “Kill them!” I scream, not recognizing my own voice. “Don’t you fucking touch him, you bastards!”

  Lachlan staggers and the men catch him, one on either side.

  “Get her safe—” His voice cuts off as his body goes slack in the arms of the two strangers.

  “No!” I scream, but Scar continues toward the car, not acknowledging what just happened. “Stop! You have to go back for him!”

  I fight his grip on me, clawing at his shoulders, uncaring about the anguish tearing through my body. Horror drowns out the pain as they drag Lachlan’s limp body toward a car I don’t recognize, and Scar heads for the familiar one.

  “Let me go!” I shout, but my voice breaks as he lowers me into the backseat and slams the door in the face of my protests.

  I grope at the handle, desperate to stop the men from hauling Lachlan away, but Scar is already in the front seat. The doors lock before he slams the car in drive and speeds down a street in the French Quarter.

  Weeks ago, I would have rejoiced at being driven in a speeding car in the opposite direction of Lachlan Mount, but that was before. What he said in the hangar was right. Everything has changed.

  Tears pour down my face in rivers as I turn to look out the tinted back window. In the rapidly increasing distance, two men load Lachlan’s lifeless body into the backseat of the other sedan.

  My voice goes hoarse as I scream at Scar to take me back, but we turn a corner and I lose sight of him.

  “No!”

  Keira

  I don’t remember passing out, but when I wake up in a room dominated by white walls, an industrial gray floor, and the scent of antiseptic, I know I must have lost consciousness.

  I jerk up in the hospital bed, my head swiveling from side to side. Bad move. The thumping gets worse, and so does my fuzzy vision.

  But through the haze, I make out another bed lying empty a half-dozen feet away from mine.

  Where is he? Thoughts of Lachlan being dragged away by strangers play like a nightmare through my brain. I have to find him.

  Leads are attached to my chest, and I rip them off. The steady beeping of the equipment shrieks with an alarm.

  I’m still attached to an IV, but I tear off the tape and prepare to yank it out. The door flies open, and a woman I’ve never seen before enters.

  “Stop. You rip that out and we’ll just have to put another in. He insisted we not take any chances with you. Overkill all the way, in my opinion, but I’m not the boss.”

  “Where is he?” My fingers grip the tubing like I’m a psych patient with a knife to my wrist. “Tell me, or I’ll have this out before you can take another step.”

  Her head jerks back at the vehemence of my threat. “Docs are with him now, patching him up. No need to tear yourself apart and get him pissed at me because of it.”

  My hand goes limp.

  “Patching him up? How bad is it?” I remember the tear in his shirt and the blood pumping from the hole in his side. “What happened? Where am I?”

  My memories are even more shattered than the night I got drunk in Dublin. The night I danced with Lachlan in a pub.

  She responds to my questions out of order. “You’re in the clinic in the compound. We’re self-sufficient here. Mount was shot, a through-and-through. You’ve got a hell of a concussion on top of superficial cuts, bruising, and a decent-sized laceration on your right side. You were lucky it wasn’t deeper. Didn’t need sutures, just Dermabond. We cleaned you up and ran a bunch of tests. You’re going to be just fine.”

  I look down at the blue hospital scrubs I’m wearing as though I can see through them. “Cuts and bruises and a concussion? Shouldn’t that hurt more?”

  The woman, who I now assume is either a doctor or a nurse, laughs. “Honey, you’re doped up on enough painkillers that you should be feeling like a champ. Just . . . don’t rip the IV out. It’s messy. We’ve cleaned up plenty of blood already today.”

  Enough about me.

  “How long until he’s back? How bad was the gunshot? He’s going to be okay, right? He said he’d be okay. He promised.”

  She studies me like I’m some kind of wild creature, and right now, that’s exactly what I feel like.

  “He lost a hell of a lot more blood than you did. Didn’t even bother to try and stop the bleeding, and he knows better than that.”

  My foggy memory recalls him giving me his jacket to stop my bleeding. Possibly at the expense of his own life.

  “He’s not going to die.” It’s not a question. It can’t be, because I’ll lose it.

  But the nurse or doctor, or whoever the hell she is, agrees. “No. You’re right. He’s not going to die. He’s too damn stubborn. Even the devil would send him right back.”

  A tiny sliver of relief works its way into the panic crushing my chest.

  “You’re sure?”

  She gives me a nod. “He’s got a couple overqualified docs working on him. Only the best for Mount. But the stubborn ass wouldn’t let them touch him until they were done treating you.”

  “What?” My voice breaks.

  “He pulled a gun on them and everything.”

  That sounds exactly like the man I know and love.

  Wait.

  Love?

  The word crashes through my brain like the bullet that apparently shattered the windshield of the car.

  Is that even . . . possible?

  I slump back on the bed, my strength sapped, and she comes closer.

  “Are you okay, Ms. Kilgore?”

  Am I okay?

  I don’t know how to answer. Right now, I’m grappling with the most shocking—but obvious—realization of my life.

  I’m falling in love with Lachlan Mount.

  Scratch that. Not falling. I’ve fallen.

  “Ms. Kilgore? Is something wrong? Are you in pain?”

  I shake my head. “It’s not that. I’m . . . it’s just . . .”

  Her eyes turn sympathetic. “Delayed shock?”

  “Maybe.” The pillow cradles my head as I stare up at the ceiling and come to terms with the truth.

  I’ve heard traumatic experiences can have a very crystalizing effect on your thoughts, but how could I have missed that this was building beneath the surface?

  “Dance with me, Lachlan. Dance with me in Dublin.”

  His smile from that night flashes through my brain. Is that when it happened? Does it matter?

  “Let me reattach these leads so we can keep an eye on you. I’m pretty sure he’d literally kill me if I let anything happen to you now.”

  She tapes my IV back down and then moves toward the machine, straightening out the tangled leads I ripped off before reattaching them to me, but I’m not paying attention to her at all.

  Which is probably why I miss whatever else she adds to the mix pumping through my IV until she speaks.

  “You need to rest,” she says as she removes the bag that was hanging there.

  “What did you do?”

  “Just gave you a little something to help keep you comfortable.”

  My eyes grow heavy and I open my mouth to protest, but I’m no match for whatever drugs she sent pumping through me.

  “He’ll be here when you wake up.”

  Mount

  Keira’s screams echo in my brain on repeat as I thrash against the sheets and drag myself from an uneasy sleep. What the fuck did they give me? I told them I didn’t need shit. I needed to stay aware. On guard.

  The same thoughts have been on repeat in my brain since that fucking bullet slammed through the windshield. I can’t lose her. Don’t you fucking take her from me.

  “Where is she?” My voice sounds hoarse to my own ears when it finally cooperates, but there’s no way to miss the desperation underlying my demand. “Is Keira okay?”

  “I’m right here.”

  Keira’s small hand closes over mine. The tension leaves my body at her touch, even as the scent of dis
infectant fills my nose.

  “I made them move you closer to me since they threatened to handcuff me to this bed to keep me in it when I tried to get to yours.”

  Her voice is husky and barely loud enough to hear over the beeping of the machines, but her words wrap around me, settling me down even more. How I earned that kind of loyalty from her, I’ll never understand. I’ll never let her take it back, either.

  I scan every inch of her body, from her messy red hair down to the blue scrubs she’s wearing. No signs of blood anymore. She’s in one piece, and her face isn’t pinched with pain.

  “Please fucking tell me you’re okay.” In my nightmare, she was screaming because she was dying, and I couldn’t save her. Those screams were worse than the pain of any of the bullets I’ve had punch through my body. A million times worse than being hit by that Mercedes so fucking long ago. Worse than any stab wound or other injury I’ve endured or could imagine.

  “I’m fine. You’re gonna be fine. We’re both going to be fucking fine, or I swear to God, I will hunt down whoever did this and kill them myself.” Icy determination backs her every word.

  My bloodthirsty hellion. My defiant queen.

  I shouldn’t smile about it, but when it comes to this woman, nothing is rational. She came from a bubble, a world that I’ve never inhabited. When I dragged her into the shadows and darkness, I gave no thought to the consequences of my actions beyond the satisfaction I would gain from her submission.

  I’m a selfish man. I know myself well enough to accept it. I take, and take, and take.

  That’s what I intended to do with Keira Kilgore. Take her until I was sated. But tonight, the only thing I wanted to take was every single bit of her pain, regardless of whether it killed me.

  I’ve never believed in selflessness. I thought it was a myth. But where Keira Kilgore is concerned, my beliefs have shifted.

  Everything has shifted.

  Life taught me not to get attached to a single fucking thing, because nothing in this world is permanent. Everything is temporary.