Page 62 of Steel Rain

Where the fuck am I?

I felt like my head had been through a cheese grate. I lightly touched my lip, wincing at the sensitivity, and came away with blood. I could feel the tautness of the skin, and knew it was swollen. I was terrified to see what I looked like in the mirror.

The room was sparse with a small armoire and a writing desk in the corner. No pictures, no posters, nothing on the walls. There was a kitchenette, and I assumed the door that was cracked open led to the bathroom.

I could hear the faint sound of bodies hitting a mat with the loud shouts of martial art drills, so I was near the gym. I vaguely remembered the night before. I was in the snow. Frozen and numb. I was fading out of this life, and I was okay with it. Ready to let the pain of this life slip through my fingers into blissful nothingness.

Then I was warm, but in extreme pain, and a voice was asking again and again –who did this to you? Who did this to you?

Ajax. He had found me. He had saved me.

I groaned onto my back, whimpering as I felt the strain of the muscles that held my ribs. I had apparently slept in the only comfortable position available to me, and moving was a terrible, terrible idea.

“Well, good afternoon, Shiny.”

I groaned even louder, shutting my eyes. That was not the voice I wanted to hear first thing after finding out that I was still alive. I mean, it wasn’t thelastvoice I wanted to hear. But definitely in the bottom five.

“What do you want, Eoghan?” I asked, trying to sit up, but the pain shot straight up my side, to my shoulder, up my neck, and my vision blurred.

“Stay down, girl,” Eoghan’s Irish lilt had a hint of amusement in it. “Before Ajax finds out I’m here and decides to wipe the mat with my blood.”

More cryptic messages. I had forgotten that about him. He spoke in metaphors and roundabout symbolisms that only he, and that pesky cousin of his, ever truly grasped. Being his friend had been a fucking pain in the ass. Not just because he was the boss’s son.

“What do you want?” I moaned as I attempted, and failed, to throw my arm over my eyes to block out the offensive day.

“O’Malley says that he came back to his quarters and found your door broken, and the window open to the cold.” I assumed that Eoghan was sitting in a chair, because I heard it creak as if he was sitting back and adjusting his weight. “I went to inspect, and indeed, the door was broken, and the window wide open to the snow. There’s going to be some water damage on that floor.”

“Take it out of my paycheck,” I said, finally getting my arm over my face. I wish I had the mobility to grab the pillow and bury myself under it to hide from reality. “How’d you find me, anyway?”

“Well, I got notification that my coach couldn’t do morning classes, and moved it to the afternoon,” Eoghan chuckled. “So, it didn’t take a genius to piece that together.” Then all humor faded from his tone. “Do you care to tell me how the door broke?”

“Someone probably wanted to get inside.”

If I called out Keith, would he believe me? His precious little Captain? His childhood friend? Would he stand up for me? Or would he, like my father, slap me across the face after I came to him? Would he tell me to stop my crying and do mydutyas a woman.

Because a woman’s duty was easier than a man’s, according to Blaine Flanagan.We got to do it on our backs, after all …

“Who was this someone?” Eoghan’s black eyes narrowed.

“Some Irish guy.” At least I could confirm it wasn’t Ajax. He was the only man I’d consider defending. Him, and Kieran.

“Which Irish guy?”

I lowered my arm and turned my head and finally made eye contact with my former friend.

He had changed a lot in ten years. He was, like Keith, handsome. Or maybe that was just the power he exuded. The most powerful, vicious, and terrible men always had a beauty about them. Like a serpent with its shiny scales.

“Some guy …” I finally said, quietly, daring him to pry further.

“Tell me who.” The command might have made another man fall to their knees in complete fear. But not me. I was still Sin “the She-Wolf” Flanagan. I had been in combat, been ambushed, been on the receiving end of indirect fire, and lived. I had fought my way out of shit that Hollywood could only dream of, and I was still standing.

Some asshole born into too much power wasn’t going to intimidate me.

I waited in silence, just staring into his black eyes. I let the pause in our conversation grow heavy, until it felt crushing. And I reveled in it, because as annoying as it was to me,it was absolutely devastating to him.

To Eoghan Green, son of Alastair Green Sr., and the man who owned hundreds of men in the palm of his hand.

“Tell me!” He barked, then silenced himself, looking at the apartment door, to where the sound from downstairs crept up. But it was just the sound of people training.

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