“JJ’s around here somewhere,” I said, frantically trying to wiggle out of Declan’s arms. It didn’t work. He was made of steel. “He was getting beat up, and I distracted them.”
“He left you?” Declan’s voice was low and ominous, but he didn’t even hesitate. I wiggled again when he started walking away from where I parked.
“My dad’s truck.” I pointed behind us, but he didn’t break stride. “I drove it. I can’t leave it here.”
“Are the keys still inside it?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“I’ll have one of them drive it to your father’s place right now.” I sagged in relief. For all my big talk, I wasn’t in the mood to argue about being driven home.
“Wait,” I said, and he stopped. “I hit the guy in the tracksuit pretty hard with my dad’s metal bat. Can you make sure it isn’t left there for the cops to find? That’s the last thing he’ll need.”
Declan stopped and stared at me.
“You hit someone with a bat?” He was incredulous.
“In my defense, he was going to hit me first,” I said. “And they were beating up JJ.”
He just shook his head and continued to walk to a car parked a block away. It was a two-door sports car — sleek, black, and low to the ground. Declan set me on my feet and opened the door before helping me inside. Before getting into the driver’s side, he pulled out his phone and punched a number. I couldn’t make out the entire conversation but heard Byrne and truck and let out a breath when I heard the word bat in there too. He was taking care of it for me.
When he was finished, he jumped in beside me and started the car, which roared to life. Without another word, he tore away from the curb and sped through the streets, not stopping until he pulled into an underground parking garage a few miles later.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Declan
I was going to have a rational conversation with that woman as soon as I calmed down, I swore it. But each time I opened my mouth to speak calmly, I mostly started getting irrational about the fact that she’d gone to an empty construction site alone to try to rescue her brother.
“He’s a grown man, Amelia,” I said as I helped her step out of my car. I’d parked in my garage and was taking her up to my suite. There was no way in hell I was going to let her out of my sight anytime soon. I also called my physician at home, and she was on her way. Amelia’s face was swelling up, and I was hoping nothing was broken. The bastard had hit her hard before I could reach them.
I did my best not to think about what might have happened if Jack Byrne hadn’t called my cell phone the moment Amelia hung up on him, and I’d be eternally grateful that he’d taken my advice to use it whenever he needed it the first time I took his daughter out.
I’d done it out of respect — a symbol, really — but I was beyond glad that I’d done it nonetheless.
“Declan.” I’d recognized the voice instantly. “I think something’s going on with my son, and Amelia’s gone after him.”
I didn’t remember making it to the ground floor of my building, I was home at the time thinking about that very same daughter of his and was in my car tearing out of the parking garage as he gave me the directions. As soon as we hung up, I had Brennan on the phone, who’d actually beaten me there with a few of our guys.
I rounded the corner just as the asshole had grabbed her hair and hit her with a closed fist across the face as she fell backward.
Rage.
Instant, blinding rage had all but consumed me, and I charged the son of a bitch like a man possessed. Because that’s what I was. Possessed with the need to touch this asshole who’d put his hands on my woman.
Mine.
Even now, as I scooped her up and cradled her against my chest as I moved into the elevator that would take us to my penthouse, I shook with rage. She’d been hurt. She could have been hurt a lot worse too.
“I can walk,” she protested quietly, probably reading the warring emotions on my face. The elevator doorman knew to keep his eyes ahead of him, only nodding to greet me as I walked in the thing.
When the door slid open on my floor, I strode through and set Amelia on her feet only long enough to unlock the door to my apartment.
Once inside, I picked her up and kicked the door closed behind us. I didn’t stop until I’d set her on the couch, and left her to get an ice pack from my freezer. Wrapping it in a linen dishtowel from the drawer, I came back, handed it to her, and sat on the ottoman directly in front of her, hands on my knees.
Exhaling an unsteady breath, I ran my hands through my hair to calm myself.
Looking across at her, I saw that she was shaking.
“Please tell me you’re okay,” I said, my voice scratchy and emotional. I was shaken. It was obvious, and I wasn’t trying to hide it.
“I’m okay, Declan.” She winced as the cold hit her skin. “I swear. My face will be a little bruised, but it’s not too bad.”
I closed my eyes, willing some patience with this woman to materialize from the ether.
“I watched a man hit you,” I said, enunciating each syllable of the sentence. “I watched a man yank you by your beautiful head and put his hands on you.”
She drew in a shaky breath and just nodded, hopefully conceding that I had a reason to be shaken up. Frowning, she pulled the ice pack away, dropping it into her lap.
A few moments passed, and when I could speak calmly, I tried again.
“My doctor is on her way to look at your face,” I said, not allowing her to argue with me. I glanced at a message on my phone before tossing it back on the sofa beside her. “Your father’s truck has just been dropped off to him. Brennan’s giving him a briefing, and you can call him in a minute. But first, you need to tell me why you didn’t call me before you raced out there like some vigilante.”
Her eyes darted to mine, and it nearly gutted me to see the swelling of her cheek begin. It was mottled red and angry, and there would definitely be a bruise if she didn’t ice the damn thing. Gently, I gripped her hand that held the towel and the ice pack and moved it more firmly against her injured face.
“I didn’t have time,” she said weakly, probably knowing how thin the excuse sounded.
I just shook my head. “I don’t believe you.”
She struggled to draw in a long breath that she blew back out, not answering me right away. A long moment stretched out between us before she spoke again. “I didn’t want you to know what’s going on with my brother,” she said, the misery in her voice apparent.
“Why not?”
She shot me a dark look that practically screamed Are you serious? and I just shook my head at her.
“Why not?” I was going to make her answer me.
She chewed her lower lip a moment, and I had to tear my gaze away from the way she raked her teeth against her lip. Focus. I was trying to focus.
“Because I was embarrassed,” she finally said. “I think he’s up to some shady things, and I didn’t want you to think worse of my family because of it.”
I couldn’t help myself. I barked out a laugh and just shook my head at this beautiful, infuriating woman. “Are you serious? Have you met my family? Didn’t we grow up in the same neighborhood? And you really think I’d hold it against you or your parents for your brother’s shitty decisions?”
She let the words settle around us while she considered them. Finally, she shook her head. “No. I don’t think you’d hold it against us. But it still doesn’t mean I want my brother’s crap out there. I was hoping to stop him before it got too bad.”
That made me smile a little. Just a little. I was still fairly pissed off and terrified at how close she’d been to getting hurt.
“My little warrior vigilante.” I was surprised that I was able to put away my anger and tease her.
She seemed surprised too. Looking up at me with her gorgeous blue eyes, she gave me a pouty smile. “I have one hell of a swing. You should see the other guy.”
I grinned. “I’m sure I’m going to.” I stood to let Dr. Yancey in. “Brennan’s getting me all the gory details as we speak.”
The moment her face drained of color, I regretted my words.
“I’m sure the prick’s going to have nothing worse than a bruised ego,” I reassured her. “He looked like he was moving when we left. Don’t worry.”
She sighed. “Easy for you to say.”
“Would have been easy for you to say too, if you’d just called me in the first place,” I reminded her as I opened the door to find Dr. Phillipa Yancey standing there.
“You rang, master?” she asked in an unamused voice. Every once in a while, in the early days, I might have gotten caught up in a dustup or two, and my father had taught us early on to employ a good doctor who did house calls and to pay them well. And I did.
“Charming as always,” I said, sweeping my hand forward so she could walk in.
Phillipa walked into the room and smiled at Amelia.
“Amelia, this is my doctor, Phillipa Yancey.” I met Amelia’s gaze. “This is my girlfriend, Amelia.”
I didn’t miss the furrowed brows Amelia shot me when she heard the word girlfriend, but she didn’t say anything. She didn’t look offended or even mad. She just looked a little off-kilter. Which I very much enjoyed, seeing how she’d nearly given me a heart attack and taken years off my life with this stunt.
Dr. Yancey set to work, gently poking around her face to make sure nothing was broken. I was fairly certain all was well, but I didn’t want to take any chances.
After about ten minutes of questions and a basic assessment of the damage, Dr. Yancey stood and smiled. “Rest, ice, and acetaminophen for the pain, Amelia. Luckily, things look fine. Heal quickly, and be sure to let me know if anything changes.”
Amelia thanked her, and Dr. Yancey left.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said when I returned from seeing the doctor out.
“She doesn’t mind,” I replied, head nodding toward the door. “She gets to bill me a whole hour for that.”
The mention of money made her wince, and I could have cursed myself.
I held up a hand, cutting her off before she began to freak-out about paying me back. I knew that’s where her mind was racing to. “Don’t start, Amelia. It’s nothing. Please don’t say a single word about paying me back. I might lose my cool again.”
That got a small smile from her, and I relaxed.
“My phone is in Pop’s truck,” she said. “Can I use yours to call him?”
“Of course,” I replied, handing her mine.
Within a few seconds, she had it up to her ear and was talking to her father. I left and wandered into the kitchen to give them a little privacy while my mind raced and tried to think of what I wanted to do next. I had my suspicions about who the goons who attacked JJ and Amelia were, but until it was confirmed, I had to wait.
When I didn’t hear any talking, I ventured back out and found her waiting for me.
“Everything okay?”
She pressed her fingers to her temple. “He’s pissed at me.”
I made a mock surprised face. “I can’t imagine why?” I said with a grin, and she just rolled her eyes and looked away from me. “He also wanted me to ask you if you had a spare room because he doesn’t want me coming home until he talks to JJ about who those men were and why they had attacked him. I told him I would stay at The Capstone if there were any rooms.”
“Like hell,” I blurted out without meaning to so quickly. She raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow at me. “No, Amelia. We don’t even know who those guys were or what they were after. There’s no way you’re staying by yourself. And your dad’s right — you’re safe here.”
I wanted to add in my bed but thought that might be a little forward considering what she just went through. But still… a guy could dream.
“Do you want a shower or anything? I’ll order us some dinner later, and you can stay in one of the guest rooms,” I said, moving toward the kitchen again. “Need something to drink in the meantime?”
“Sure.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “Something with bubbles? Soda? Seltzer?”
I dipped into my fridge and produced a sparkling mineral water, and her eyes lit up.
“Perfect,” she breathed, a grateful expression on her face. “I’ll go grab a shower and meet you back here for seltzer and juice or whatever you have.”
I agreed and showed her the way to the shower in my master bathroom. There was a guest bathroom just down the hallway, but I wanted Amelia in my shower, using my towels. I wanted my space to smell like her, even just once.
After a quick run-through of the controls, the towels, and the toiletries, I left her with one of my robes and promised that I’d send for clothes. In the meantime, I gave her a pair of running shorts and a t-shirt that would most likely dwarf her.
While she showered, I called Brennan and set him on a new task — women’s clothing. I snagged the clothes she shed before jumping under the water and gave him the sizes and told him to get her a couple days’ worth of things. I even gave him the store he could go to and tell the clerks there what I needed. All he had to do was show up with my credit card and deliver them here for me.
“You owe me a fat bonus,” he grumbled after agreeing to it and hung up on me. He was going to head over later once he had more news to share, anyway. He might as well bring Amelia a few changes of clothes.
“Yeah, yeah,” I replied as I tossed my phone on the counter and set about making Amelia a cranberry juice and seltzer.
She took her time in the shower, and despite everything that was going on, I couldn’t help but let my imagination wander toward exactly which body parts she was soaping at that very moment. It didn’t take long before my jeans got a little uncomfortable, and I had to grab a few ice cubes from the freezer to cool my jets. There were a million things to worry about at the moment, and I was battling a boner like some gawky teenage boy.
“The things you do to me, Amelia,” I muttered as I closed the freezer door and turned to find her standing in the kitchen, wrapped in my robe and my clothes, staring at me. Her wet hair was pulled up, and she smelled like my shampoo. Like the lotion I used in the winter when my skin got dry.
And I loved it.
“What did you say?”
Embarrassed, I cocked my head to the side and pretended not to know what she was talking about. “Nothing,” I replied, handing her the drink, hoping she’d take a giant sip and not ask more questions.
She looked at me once more over the top of the glass before sipping. “Thank you. For everything. For the knight-in-shining-armor rescue, for the shower, for the guest room, for this. You don’t have to do any of it. I just want you to know I appreciate it.”
I knew that for Jack Byrne’s kid, it was probably hard to accept help like this from someone outside the family, and it made something deep in my chest burn that she’d allowed me close enough to do something so intimate for her.
“I have my reasons,” I said, trying to keep it playful.
Amelia narrowed her eyes but smiled. “I bet.”
We returned to the living room, and I turned on the news while we waited for our food and for Brennan.
“When’s your next shift at The Capstone?” I asked during a commercial. There was a chance we would have to make a few plans if the situation with her brother and his attackers was as complicated as I thought it would be. I had my hunch, but I was waiting on Brennan with confirmation.
“Tuesday, I think,” she said, sitting up. She looked down at the gray jersey material robe she was wearing and ran it between her thumb and forefinger. “This is a nice robe, by the way. Where do people buy such nice robes? I stole one once from a Holiday Inn and got a nasty charge on my Mastercard the next month. I sort of swore off robes after that.”
I laughed. “Macy’s probably. I don’t do a ton of shopping.”
I was about to say more, but Amelia interrupted me with a grin
.
“Wait, wait,” she said, putting her hand up. “Let me guess? You find a style you like in every different type of clothing, and you just buy that for the rest of your life? No need to try new styles or brands or colors?”
I didn’t respond but chuckled again. She was more right than she was wrong, but I wasn’t about to admit it to her. I was a creature of habit — what could I say? I liked what I liked.
And you know what I liked right now? Amelia Byrne sitting on my couch wearing my shorts, my shirt, and my robe. A sense of satisfaction that was a little foreign to me swelled in my chest and other places, and I shifted in my seat, grateful when the knock at the door finally sounded.
Our second guest that afternoon was Brennan Drake, who came bearing an armload of clothing from Nordstrom’s and the bad news I’d been expecting.
Before any of that could be said, however, Amelia launched into a barrage of questions leveled at the man. “Is my dad okay? Has anyone heard from JJ yet? Did my mom take it okay? Did my phone survive? How mad is my dad?”
“Deep breath, Amelia,” I teased, and she shot me a dirty look.
Brennan kept a straight face and took a seat on a nearby loveseat. He sank down and ran his hand over his face and sighed.
“That bad?” Amelia asked, her voice much quieter now.
With a groan, he sat forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “It could be better,” he said with a shrug. He then attempted to answer the multitude of questions she’d thrown at him. “Your father is fine. JJ called and said he was at his girlfriend’s place for a few days, which served your parents just fine. Your mother’s freaked out, but your father has it handled. Your phone is in the bag. What was the last question?”
“How mad is Jack at Amelia?”
I saw the dirty look she gave me, but I just shook my head.
“Mad,” Brennan answered, giving her a sympathetic look before turning to me and getting down to business. “We got an ID on the guy Amelia hit.” I held my breath, practically knowing what was next. “Gentry James, nephew of Kevin Duffy. His sister’s kid and a local moron who thinks he’s a tough guy. He’s going to live, but she knocked four teeth out and broke his nose. Going to need reconstructive surgery on part of his jaw too.”
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