Page 14 of To Curse A Knight

Revenge was a dish best served cold. Alvarez would soon be knee-deep in gazpacho, his blood the broth, his bones the bread.

A feast fit for a king.

Iawoke with a massive headache, the shrill screech of my alarm pulling me out of another terrifying nightmare.

They were getting worse; each evening brought far more hellish landscapes along with it, despite the emphatic promise from my doctor my brain would not be capable of dreaming under the effects of a newly prescribed sedative.

I didn’t have time to be tired. As usual, my day was packed with meetings, with one particular presentation I wouldn’t be missing, migraine be damned.

Pulling off my puffy pink eye mask and noise canceling earphones, I filled my lungs with three head-clearing breaths to calm my nervous system.

No amount of breaths in the world was going to bring me peace today. I needed to hit something.

Padding to my ensuite, I took my time getting ready, letting the steam from my shower seep into my pores and cleanse me from the inside out. I carefully tended to the cuts and bruises all over my body. Thankfully, my face hadn’t taken the hardest hits; expensive makeup, dark lipstick and strategic hairstyling would cover the majority of it.

I finally stepped out of my soapy cocoon, applied my makeup and dried and curled my hair into loose waves. I rarely curled my hair—it took too much time, and I had too many more important things to do—but I couldn’t force myself to rush out into the real world today.

The shattered shards of the last seventy-two hours had finally embedded themselves into my skin, and the pain of almost losing Aaron, the necessity of standing up to Kellan, and now having to keep Aaron safe from Mafia hit men, and keep Lucky under lock and key had shifted the trajectory of the next several weeks. I couldn’t afford the detour.

I couldn’t keep Alec in an offsite facility forever. No amount of picking off individual predators would ever bring my Cariño back. One judge or one family having their daughter returned to them wouldn’t avenge Isabella.

I’d been searching for a way to honor her life for years; to avenge the gruesome way it had been stolen. The nightmares were wedging their way into my daily consciousness, as if her ghost was haunting me for failing her. For not loving her enough to see the grooming signs.

I hadn’t been strong enough to save her.

My vendetta was for her; to avenge her death by removing all predators from our state. The only way to do that was to take out the head of the organizations providing them with fodder in the first place. Managing these additional complexities would take energy and time—time I didn’t have.

When I finally made it out into the kitchen to make my morning cappuccino, the freshly prepared mug sitting on the countertop surprised me, complete with heart-shaped white foam nestled on top.

Right. My house guest.

The muscular form of a man in a navy suit lounged on my white chaise lounge in my periphery. I turned to Lauchlan O’Donnell laying on the settee with his arms behind his head, eyes closed to the ceiling.

So much for handcuffing him to my bedpost, Kellan.

“Was wondering when you’d join me.” His Irish brogue broke through my usual morning quiet, but those sparkling, sea-glass eyes remained closed. “Heard your shower running and almost stepped in to join yeh.”

He’d arrived late into the evening last night, after Kellan had installed the tracking chip under his skin as promised. All he’d brought with him was a travel case and a suit bag—and a bag of snacks because‘I know you’re not gonna have anything good to eat here.’

Ignoring the mug left for me on the counter, I made my way to the espresso machine that took up most of my counter space, and removed my favorite hand-potted mug from the hook on the wall. I turned the machine on to warm it back up—he’d had the courtesy to shut it off when he was done with it, at least—and turned my attention back to my wayward ward.

“Good thing for you, you didn’t. I know how to castrate a man.”

His eyes snapped open, but a playful grin danced across his tempting full lips. His gaze landed on mine, showing no sign of fear or hesitancy, just intrigue.

Apparently, very little made this man shake in his boots. I looked forward to testing that bravado soon.

“I’ll bet you do, Blondie. Do yeh bathe in the man’s tears afterwards? Or just collect them for your potions?”

A snort escaped me despite myself. Lucky O’Donnell was a brat.

And a con man—that little piece of information was still hanging between us. As far as I knew, Lucky didn’t know I was privy to his actual day job—regardless of his side gig and crusade against Marco Alvarez. And as far as I knew, Kellan and Aaron weren’t aware of it, either.

Lauchlan couldn’t possibly know about Kellan’s FBI ties; I was surprised Kellan had told Aaron about that part of his life, but it certainly made plotting my next steps with the two men easier. Fighting to the death in a gentlemen’s agreement apparently developed an instant bond of sorts, which should prove useful in the days ahead.

Neither Lauchlan nor Aaron had any inkling ofmyevening activities—although, now I knew Lauchlan tracked my phone, I’d have to walk a much more careful line while delivering justice this week.

What an interesting circle of secrets among the four of us.

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