Page 67 of Hostile Bond
As soon as I open the door and prepare to leave, two familiar looking men, both dressed in black, close in on me and block my only way out. “You can’t leave, Mrs. Souza. Not without permission.”
I throw a hand to the doorjamb to stop myself from sinking. “I don’t need fucking permission to find my husband!”
The duo stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “But he’s…”
“Sinéad?”
My skin tingles.
My heart beats flurry.
I swivel back around to where the gravelly Latino accent comes from. Instantly pinpointing André in the same room, wearing a matching paper-like gown and a troubled frown. I wobble, the brisk spin too much.
My gaze flows over him. Dark bruising streaks his under eyes and the coarse hair on his jaw has more depth. A strip of white tape crosses the bridge of his slightly swollen nose and a tiny slit on his lower lip is hardly noticeable, but the gash above his eyebrow is pinched together with butterfly stitches. Even war-torn and injured, his rugged appearance takes my breath away.
I stagger forward, but he’s already on his way to me.
“Wifey, what the fuck are you doing out of bed? I can see your sexy ass.” His hoarse timbre rumbles through me. “There’s no way in hell I’m letting you leave this room so every other fucker can see it too. I claimed that ass. Don’t forget… it’s mine. Whatever you need, I’ll get it for you.”
“I thought I was on my own—I can’t remember—”
My silly little whimper earns a devastating grin. “I was in the shower room trying to have a smoke out of a tiny fucking window. Trust me, I haven't left your side since they brought me in here. You’ve been asleep for hours. I’m like a caged animal in here waiting for you to wake up.”
The instant he curls his arms around me and my ear settles over his dominant, strong heartbeat, I break. A sob bursts out as I run my hands up and down his spine. Feeling him. Slipping my fingers into the opening of his gown. Absorbing his heat and recharging our love in the ashes of adversity.
I cling to him as if he’s a soldier preparing to go to war, never to return. Thankful that he’s here in the flesh and bone. His hands are in my hair. His fingers fisting it at the roots to angle my face to his.
Our lips smash together. The hunger hissing from his skin to mine gives me stamina. Love and lust channels from his touch to my flesh, the powerful entanglement of our bond unstoppable.
We return each other’s kisses with force and fury, tenderness and affection. We’ve never shared such a powerful kiss before. The uniting of two souls who could have lost each other to death and treachery.
My fingers roam through the thick hair on top of his head. I pepper kisses over his jawline, his cheeks, and ever so lightly peck the tip of his nose. He smells of antiseptic and cigarette smoke, a change from his usual seductive combination of leather and vetiver. Nevertheless, he’s intoxicating.
My forehead furrows and my spine stiffens. “Are you okay… you were bleeding… and your nose… is it sore?”
He shrugs. “It’s fine, but we’ll have matching scars and tattoos now. Sean’s wonky bullet skimmed the both of us. My left side and your right. The surgeon gave you more stitches than me, though. I made him promise to be thorough.” His large hands clamp my neck, his thumbs at either side of my chin. “We were lucky, Sin. The soldiers took him out the second he fired at us.”
“So, I didn’t kill him…” I blink, not sure if I'm disappointed by that fact or relieved.
His chest rises with a deep breath, an intake of air that makes me think he’s glad I didn’t finish the job. “Almost… which probably explains his shit aim.”
Flashes of my enraged temper burst in and out of my mind. “I don’t recognize the person I became…”
He dips his head to mine. “Try not to think about it, Sin. We all have those demons inside of us. And when someone fucks with the people we care about, they escape whether we want them to or not.” His gaze turns serious. “Sinéad… The Rusty Shamrock was burned to the ground to get rid of the evidence. Whatever you do remember, I need you to forget it. The only way we'll get out of Ireland alive is if we stick to the same story.”
My mind swims. “The Hennessys… do they know Sean’s dead?”
“Yeah, and Conal is on his way to speak to me. I have it under control. Trust me.”
Tears gather, even though I’m trying my hardest not to let them. I sniff and watch his beautiful mouth form a firm, grave line.
“You know how hard I’ve fallen for you, Sinéad.” He sighs like it's a bad thing. “I get why you left Sin Island. I understand the decision you made, but I can’t let it slide.” His throat works as he swallows hard. “You need to understand that no one is allowed to touch you, never mind hurt you.No one. Sean was a dead man the second he made you keep secrets from me under that old tree all those years ago.”
“But he’s your family, Dré… your uncle.”
“And you’re my wife, Sinéad. My fuckingwife. The womanIchose to marry, whether you wanted me or not. I never thought I’d marry anyone for love until I saw you on that yacht. But how do I protect you when you don’t let me in?” His baritone cracks with a hurt huskiness.
My heart kicks, the force of it making me sway. “I have no more secrets left. You know everything about me. You’re the only one who does.”
