Page 126 of Savage Promises
My allergies. She wanted me to be comfortable to the point that she scrubbed her hands raw. For me.
What the fuck have I done?
That damn allergy patch I’ve been wearing for months itches. I find it on my arm and rip it off. It feels like tearing out a piece of my heart.
I turn to leave, unable to take another second of looking at this empty bedroom, at my failure, but something catches my eye under the bed. Something small, half-hidden in the shadows. Frowning, I lower to my hands and knees, reaching beneath the frame. My fingers close around something soft.
A cat toy.
A little worn-out plush mouse.
I sit back on my heels, holding it close to my face. I breathe it in, wanting to sneeze. Wanting my eyes to itch and burn. To feel something other than my heart breaking.
Nothing.
“The brain builds up antibodies,” Liz says gently.
I huff out a sad and hollow laugh. “When do you think I’ll grow immune to this heartache?”
She doesn’t answer, and I don’t expect her to.
I examine the toy, trying not to cry. The fabric is slightly frayed from Hawk’s claws. Tears well up. A hollow ache burns my lungs. Every breath stings. There’s no patch for that. Or is there?
“I have a roast in the oven for you.” Liz turns to leave. “You’ve had a long trip. You need a good meal.”
I stand, still gripping the toy in my hand, and head downstairs. The smell of the roast finally reaches my famished senses. But I stop in my tracks, seeing my living room filled with men. Giant, powerful, and imposing men with square jaws and hair like mine but in various shades of copper, auburn, and mahogany.
Ewan, Griffin, Connor, Trace, and Rhys are lined up in front of the fireplace, their eyes watching me carefully. A bottle of whiskey sits open on the coffee table, glasses waiting to be filled.
“We’re here to check on you, little brother,” Ewan says, reminding me I’m the youngest.
“Making sure you weren’t drinking alone,” Connor adds.
I sigh, scrubbing a hand down my face. “I’m fine.”
Griffin cocks an eyebrow and roughly mutters, “You don’tlookfine.”
The head of Quinlan Empire has a double interest inmy sanity. We never established anything formal as far as who’s underboss. I’m Griffin’s fixer. But I can’t fix myself. Or the mess I’ve made.
I sink onto the sofa as Griffin pours a glass and slides it toward me. “Garrett closed Club Echelon,” he says. “Moved to California. He’s clean and looking after Neve at USC.”
“That was money well spent.” I exhale slowly, relief and frustration warring inside me. “Where’s Richard?”
Griffin shakes his head, a silent admission of his mistake to let him work for us. “Gone. Disappeared. Lennox didn’t give her father anything from her settlement,” he adds.
She didn’t cave. She didn’t give in.That’s my girl.
For months I hesitated killing that useless gobshite. The man is a drunk and a coward. He treated both his daughters like shit. He deserves nothing but a bullet between the eyes.
I stare at Ewan, Griffin, and Trace. We’re all cut from the same cloth. They got out of their way and made it work with their women. And neither of them had an easy time of it.
But they didn’t give up.
Did I...give up?
“I... I have to see Lennox.”
Griffin and Connor exchange looks.
