Page 34 of The Watcher's Bride

Nora pales. I might scare her, but it’s nothing compared to the fear her father instills in her.

“You killed him,” she says, as if trying to process the information.

“Yes,” I reply. I won’t apologize for keeping her safe. I’ll kill every fucker who tries to take what’s mine, who so much as thinks about harming her.

“And Mike, you killed him too,” she asks, though it’s more of a statement.

I nod.

“Because of me?”

“He hurt you,” I reply simply.

She seems to consider this for a moment, weighing her natural horror at the thought of me committing murder because of her against the relief that there is someone out there protecting her. Perhaps for the first time in her life.

“If I asked you to do something for me, would you do it?” she asks cryptically.

“Yes,” I reply without hesitation.

“Kill my father,” she says, her eyes narrowing as she hardens her heart.

Atta girl, Nora. My beautiful, fearless, warrior woman. Now we’re talking. It’s an easy question that I don’t need to think about. I’d already decided that when the time is right, I’ll kill Eamonn Quinn for what he did to her.

I nod, easily agreeing to her request and she lets out a sigh of relief. “With pleasure,” I say with a smile.

She returns it, and just like that, we’re partners in crime. It takes every ounce of control I have not to pounce on her and fuck her into oblivion right there and then. But I know I need to get rid of the body in her living room before making any grand gestures of intimacy or giving in to my sexual desire for her.

All in good time.

Chapter 20

Nora

Ishould feel scared, terrified of the masked man before me. I just witnessed him break a man’s neck with his bare hands and not even flinch. Plus, he admitted he’s the one who did that to Mike. He’s capable of terrible, heinous things. A monster in the flesh. A real-life boogeyman. Yet I don’t feel afraid in the slightest.

Perhaps my masked watcher is the key to my salvation. Which is why I asked him to kill my father. If anyone can do it, he can. He seems almost pleased by the request, a flicker of amusement in those icy blue eyes.

I was so close to unmasking him tonight. To finding out who the man behind the mask is. I’m almost glad I didn’t. Part of me wants to hold on to the illusion for just a little bit longer. Who needs a white knight when you can have a dark one? One willing to do even the most evil of deeds to protect you.

Sure, my father killed in my name. But it was never truly to protect me. It was only ever for his benefit.

I watch as my savior lifts the dead man’s body with ease, throwing him over his shoulder as if he weighs nothing. The sight is strangely arousing and my cheeks flush with shame and embarrassment. My libido is definitely fucked. A man just died, and I’m turned on by how easily his killer lifts his body. However, I’m finding it hard to find any sympathy for the intruder who broke into my home in order, no doubt, to kidnap me and return me to the cruel hands of my father.

“Do you… can I help?” I offer lamely.

I have no idea how I’d possibly be able to help him, but it seems like the polite thing to say. Not that I’m familiar with the etiquette of body disposal. Thankfully, I wasn’t privy to the kind of dirty work and nitty-gritty details that come with running a criminal empire. After all, my father wasn’t about to leave his empire in the hands of a mere woman. God forbid he entertains the idea that I could be good for anything other than producing children or being a bargaining chip.

“We could put him in an old suitcase,” I suggest, pointing to the old, battered suitcase that sits abandoned in the corner of the room, currently filled with excess books I keep meaning to donate.

He shakes his head. “Not unless you want to chop up the body to fit it in,” he says grimly.

He’s right, the man’s too large to fit in whole, even with some contortions, and I don’t have any real interest in discovering how much blood and mess chopping up a body would make.

“Do you have any old blankets?” he asks.

I nod before rushing to get them.

We wrap the body up in the blankets and he throws it back over his shoulder once more. Like this, you could almost believe he was carrying a very heavy old rug. It’s not ideal, but under the cover of darkness, it might work if he can get the body into the trunk of a car.

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