Page 21 of Only for You
Chapter Seven
“You already know about what I overheard,” Gabriella started, rubbing her damp palms down her denim-covered thighs. After Killian had asked the question that had rocked through her with the power of an earthquake, she’d requested he have her clothes delivered to her. The shirt and pants were flimsy armor, but sitting there, naked on the bed, while she revisited the past with him seemed too vulnerable, too exposed in a way being strapped to the spanking bench hadn’t made her feel. Especially since after she finished, she fully expected him to usher her ass right out of The Loft and Lick. She didn’t need a blinking neon sign to tell her their time together was over. She’d rather not have to wait any longer than necessary before her walk of shame.
“I almost didn’t call you, you know,” she murmured, probably confusing him with her change of subject. She paced in front of the bed, arms wrapped around herself, although the temperature was perfect. Though she didn’t glance over at Killian, who leaned against the wall, every bit of her was tuned in to him. His utter stillness telegraphed his concentrated attention, and while minutes ago, that focus had shattered her with pleasure, now it sent a wave of sadness through her. “I knew you, Killian,” she whispered, all the desperation and fear for him from that night vibrating in her voice. “I knew if I told you about the double cross, nothing would have stopped you from going. And I was right. You were fiercely loyalty to Jamie Hughes and the O’Bannons, even though they didn’t deserve you. Especially Jamie.”
Fury burned low in her belly at just the thought of the O’Bannon family’s boss. She lowered her arms, her fingers curling into fists. If the man stood in front of her right now, she’d junk punch him—with a 2 x 4.
“He used you and all the other men who were loyal to him. Saw you as his property to corrupt and send out on jobs that damaged your soul time after time,” she continued, bitterness coating every word.
“I could’ve said no, Gabriella,” Killian said, his voice quiet, solemn. “I wasn’t an innocent.”
“No to the man who’d been giving you money since you were a kid to take care of your father? No to the man who gave you a job, a family? You were loyal to Jamie—to a fault.”
“I wasn’t blind to who he was,” he argued. “Not by a long shot. He wasn’t some cross between a daddy and a god to me.”
“Yet he had your unconditional loyalty all the same. Killian.” She briefly closed her eyes. “I’ve said all this before, but I panicked when you rushed out of the bar.I was twenty-one, scared, and completely in love with a man who, in my mind, was running headlong to his possible death. I loved you too much. I couldn’t lose you. So I called the police because it was the only thing I could think to do to save your life.”She held out her hands, palms up, as if pleading with him to understand her actions and mindset five years ago. “Buteven now, I wish I could look you in the eyes and tell you I would do it differently. But I don’t know if I would. If it would mean you standing here, alive, away from Jamie Hughes and the mob, I might make the same choice again.”
Silence thundered in the room, deafening with all the unsaid regrets and accusations.
Sighing, she continued. “I found out the next day that you’d been arrested. I went to the jail to explain everything, to beg for your forgiveness if necessary—”
“What?”
Shestared as Killian slowly straightened from his lean against the wall. Muscle contracted and flexed under his taut skin as he stalked toward her. Wary, she instinctively stepped back, but paused. He wouldn’t hurt her—she believed that with her entire soul—and she wasn’t a coward. She’d admitted her actions had led them to this point; she’d face it.
“What did you say?” he demanded in a dark, low rumble.
Frowning, she said, “I went to the jail to ex—”
“No, you didn’t. You never came to visit me.”
Anger flared inside her. “Of course I did,” she insisted. “You should know—you turned me away. Sent the officer to tell me you didn’t want to see me. I came back and tried three more times. I even mailed you a letter. But you rejected each visit and didn’t write me back.”
“That’s. Bullshit,” he ground out. “I never…Fuck.” The curse didn’t blast from him in a torrent of rage, but the soft explosion of sound. He turned away from her, thrusting both hands through his hair, fisting the dark strands. When he faced her again, stark lines bracketed his hard mouth, shadows darkened his hazel eyes. “They never told me you came. Probably intercepted my mail, too. All I can think of is either the cops wanted to keep me isolated to break me, or they just took pleasure in fucking with me. But I didn’t turn you away because I didn’t know you came.”
She blinked. “Could they do that…”
His harsh bark of laughter interrupted her question. “Damn right they could. Just like they sent me away on false charges.”
Shaking her head, she whispered, “Would it have mattered? Would you have forgiven me?”
For a long, painful moment, he didn’t reply. But when he did, his confession did nothing to ease the hurt. “I don’t know. Then, maybe not. But you disappeared. You didn’t give me a chance to find out. You left Boston…me. Why?”
She averted her gaze, wrapping her arms around her once more.
“Gabriella,” he growled.
Worry and the need to completely unburden herself warred within her in an epic battle. Five years ago, fear had controlled her. Love had motivated her, but her fear had been instrumental in him being imprisoned for two years. She couldn’t continue hiding the truth from him. This Killian wasn’t the same man who’d collected debts on behalf of Jamie Hughes. This man was older, more mature, more in control. And still the man she loved. And love protected, it worried, it sacrificed, but it didn’t lie. Every second she kept the truth from him was another second she lied by omission.
She couldn’t do that to him…not anymore. She had to believe in the man he’d become, and also trust he would make the right decisions. That he wouldn’t jeopardize everything he, Rion, and Sasha had worked so hard to build. That he wouldn’t throw it all away out of a misplaced sense of justice.
“I didn’t recognize two of the men from that night, but the third I did right away. You’d been in the bar with him several times. It was,” she paused, mentally leaping over the cliff and depending on faith to keep her from smashing. “Michael Hughes.” An O’Bannon captain and Jamie Hughes’ son. “After you refused to see me—or I believed you didn’t want to—I had to think about my uncle’s safety. I was afraid Michael would figure out I’d been the one who’d ratted on him to you. If I left Boston, taking my secret with me, I thought Uncle Garrett would be safe, and so would I.”
She braced herself for his shock, his fury, his grief. But none of those crossed his face. His hooded, hazel eyes were shuttered, the full curves of his mouth firm and flattened into a straight line. No emotion, no reaction. Just…nothing.
“Why were you afraid to tell me?” he asked. “Did you think if I knew Michael had tried to murder his father and me that I would run out of here, find him, and kill him?”
“I didn’t know,” she whispered. “But I couldn’t risk it. I didn’t have a chance to tell you then—you ran out before I could, and later… Well, later never came. And I didn’t plan on revealing his involvement to you tonight. I’ve taken so much from you already, I didn’t want to be responsible for stealing even more from you with information that would only harm you, not help. And…and,” she swallowed, glancing away from him, and blinking furiously against the sting of tears. Damn. She’d managed not to cry the entire night. Just a little while longer, and she would be out of here…and free to break down. “And maybe after you issued your bargain…maybe I didn’t want to go another five years without your touch. Even if it was just for a few short hours.”
