Page 18 of Sweet Vengeance
They wanted to know who I am.
Cillian’s jaw tightens, and I know he’s thinking the same thing.
The nurse doesn’t seem to realize anything is wrong, pushing my bed out of the elevator. She brings me to room2035, and I sigh in relief when I realize there’s no one in there with me.
Another nurse comes in behind us, the two of them chatting while machines are hooked up again. She takes my vitals and gets a report of my condition. My pulse stumbles when she too mentions Cillian being my boyfriend, but for a second it takes my mind off the danger I might be in.
They ask me a couple of questions, then leave.
“Let me look in there.” Maybe I got lucky. Maybe my missing items are somehow in my backpack. One search tells me they’re not and the pit inside of me grows.
“We’ll take care of you,” Cillian says.
“I don’t need you to take care of me,” I snap. I’m not being fair to him right now, but I can’t seem to be able to stop.
He shrugs. “Okay.”
I frown, not having expected that answer. “Good.”
“You should get some rest.”
“Like that’s gonna happen.” It doesn’t matter howexhausted I am, the pain and worry keep doing laps in my brain, making me feel jittery and like my skin is suddenly too tight.
I jump when there’s a knock on the half-closed door. When it pushes open, I see Cillian stiffen as two uniformed police officers step inside, followed by the newest nurse.
“Are you up for a few questions?” she asks.
“No. He’s not,” Cillian answers.
“I don’t need you to answer for me.” I’m arguing with him even though I am not, in fact, up for a few questions.
“They can come back. I’d prefer it, but the officers insisted,” the nurse says.
Honestly, I want to forget this night ever happened. The best way to do that is to put it behind me. I turn to the officers and nurse. “I just want to get this over with.” Then maybe I can get on with my life.
I was attacked.
They have my identification.
She nods, then looks at Cillian. “Please let me know if it’s too much.”
I huff. Is she supposed to be talking to him? But then, as far as she knows, he’s really my boyfriend, and I haven’t said he couldn’t be in the room.
The nurse walks out, and the older officer, this white guy wearing a scowl, tells Cillian, “Sir, if you could—”
“Not a chance. I’m not leaving.” Cillian crosses his arms.
“What’s your name, son?” he asks.
Cillian’s expression changes to this dangerous, cocky smile that makes my stomach flip.
“Cillian O’Shea. You might have heard of my father—Rian O’Shea.” That fast, the expression on their faces changes, the older one’s tighter and angrier, while the other’s… I swear it almost looks like awe, the way his eyes sparkle and the corner of his mouth pulls up. “He’s mine, and I’m staying.”
Um…did those guys hit me in the head harder than I thought? What does he mean, I’m his? But then, I know he doesn’t mean that. It’s a power thing with them, always is, and Cillian’s simply exerting his over these men who should be in charge. The fact that neither argues with him says they’re not, though.
How is it that even the police are subservient to the O’Sheas?
Tell him to leave.
