Page 61 of Killian's Vengeance

He sat on the bed and I launched myself into his arms, racking sobs bursting out as the magnitude of my experience started to hit me.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” he said soothingly, rubbing my back and kissing my hair.

“How did you know?”

“Ian tracked your phone and Logan knew this was Martin’s place. There was some other club stuff that made it clear that Martin was our target. He killed Lily.”

I pulled back and stared at him. “I know. He told me. I’m so sorry I yelled and blamed you for killing Lily. I feel like an idiot. Not only did I make a false accusation, but I fell right into Martin’s hands.”

“How could you know?” he asked, stroking my cheek.

I shrugged. I suppose he was right, but I still felt stupid.

“He also killed Mac.” Killian’s voice was still laced with such grief, such regret. I knew that finding Mac’s killer had been important, but it still didn’t erase the void losing Mac had left.

“Do you know why?” I asked, wondering if I was going to have to fill him in.

He nodded. “Martin has always been ambitious, it was one of the reasons Logan hired him. But his ambition got away with him. He was drowning in debt, living way beyond his means. I think that’s why he targeted Cara, thinking she could keep him living in style. He was embezzling money from Logan for a while and was worried Mac would figure him out. He was right to worry, that’s exactly what happened. When Mac figured out the thing with your sister was a con, he dug farther and found her connection to Martin and what he was up to.”

“Did they find the money?”

“Yeah, Logan had been meeting with financial advisors and private investigators since Mac was murdered. They tracked it down to a few specific banks. He just needs to get a hold of the numbers.”

I frowned, remembering what Martin had said. Had Lily told Martin the truth? Was it possible she had actually hidden the journal at our parents’ old house? “I might be able to help with that.”

Killian’s dark eyebrows jumped. “How would you know the numbers?”

I explained Martin's conversation with Lily and how he had insisted I knew where the journal was, that he held the knife to my throat and threatened me to take him to it when they’d arrived.

“Motherfucker,” he muttered and pulled me against him, his arms tight around me, almost too tight.

“Killian,” I gasped.

He loosened his hold and grabbed my chin, pinning me with his intense green gaze. “You fucking scared the shit out of me, sweetheart. I almost went out of my fucking mind when I realized what Martin was up to and that he had you at his place. Fuck.” He pulled me close again and gave me another rib-crushing hug. It was too tight, but it felt too good to tell him to stop.

When he released me, I pushed my hair back and he noticed the small gashes on the side of my throat. He tilted my neck up to examine the small injuries. “What the fuck? That asshole actually cut you?” His features tightened with fury and he hopped off the bed, his fists clenched. “Cullen, where the fuck is Goddard?”

“Killian! Wait!”

He looked back at me, clearly torn. “Baby, I got to go fuck him up.”

“Can you do it later?” I asked in a low, quavery voice. I wasn’t trying to sound pathetic to keep him here. I was pathetic. Pathetic and freaked out and overwhelmed and sad. As much as him beating Martin to a pulp appealed to me, I needed him here.

His gaze softened. “Yes, of course.” He returned to my side and pulled me on his lap. “Sorry, baby.” He landed kisses on the top of my head. “I’m not…I’m not used to relationships. I’ll probably fuck up a lot.”

“Are we in a relationship?” I asked, just going all the way there at the most insane moment.

“Fuck yes, we are. As soon as we get out of here, I’ll make sure you don’t forget it.” He gripped my chin, his other hand creeping down to my ass and giving it a hard squeeze. “Do you understand how much I’m going to punish you for the shit you put me through? Leaving me? Putting yourself in danger? Nearly getting yourself killed?”

“Some of that wasn’t my fault,” I protested, but my face flushed, and unbelievably, heat burst in my core.

His eyes scanned my features. “You like that idea, huh? Well, when you see how I punish, I don’t think you’re going to like it one fucking bit.”

I pressed my lips together to suppress a smile at his harshly worded promise. He’d been scared, worried for my safety and that knowledge sat warmly inside my chest, radiating pleasure and comfort, regardless of his threat.

He got up and helped me stand on shaky legs. “Can you walk?” he asked, and I almost cried at how concerned he looked.

I nodded. “Yeah, I can.”

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