Page 74 of Dylan
I already feel like shit, but each word he says feels like tiny blades cutting me over and over again. I fucked up. This one is on me. John should have gone home and I should have stayed put.
“I asked ya to do one thing for me. One. Why would ya bring Ciara here knowing ya would be distracted from yer task?” Brooklyn shouts at me.
I can’t call him Cole right now. He’s so angry with me, I don’t know if he sees me as his brother. Bailey is missing.
If I were here, this wouldn’t have happened. I think I understand the hurt and anger in his eyes. This isn’t about Bailey.
This is about Raven and Shauna. He’s seeing Raven dying in his arms again. I think that knowledge sours my stomach even more.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to leave her alone back in New York. I thought it best if she were with me. At least until Vega and the others were back,” I try.
“Bullshit. That’s total bullshit and ya fucking know it. Taegan, Book, Aidan … fuck, any one of our guys back home could have stepped in. Yer not a kid anymore, Dyl. Ya have real responsibilities. Ya can’t drop the ball like this.”
He gets right up in my face as his nostrils flare. Right now, it doesn’t seem like he has to look up at me or that I’m looking down at him; his anger is so palpable and overshadows everything around him.
He lowers his voice to continue. “Do ya understand what’s going on around ya? Have ya forgotten who ya are, what we do? Ya can’t afford to be slipping, we can’t afford it, not with what’s coming.
“Not after what I’ve set in motion. Bailey could have been one of ours. We should have treated her like one of ours.
“Ya were supposed to help John, not leave him with his dick in his hands. Fuck, Dylan. If we can’t protect her, how am I supposed to trust bringing them home? I expected so much more from ya.”
“I fucked up, Cole. I’m sorry. I’m here now. I’ll help find her and get her back. Maybe she just went home for a nap.”
Brooklyn spins away from me and walks a few paces away. “Are you fucking kidding me? I told ya, she never made it home. If she’s taking a nap, it’s the kind that says we failed … again.
“Get the fuck out of my face, Dylan. Take yer ass back to New York where yer head is. I’ll let ya knowifwe find her,” he growls and storms off.
Ciara
I was exhaustedby the time Book got me home to the apartment. He carried my bags upstairs for me and took off once he knew I was inside, safe and sound. I was surprised not to receive a reply from Dylan after I got his voicemail when I called.
He hasn’t returned my texts either. I fell asleep waiting for his text after I showered and talked to Ciarán. My brother is having a ball while getting spoiled. Daliah sounds like she’s having a great time as well.
I owe her and Vega for this. My brain starts to come awake with that thought. That’s when I register the sound of someone else in the apartment. I jump up and go for the gun I know Dylan keeps locked away on his side of the bed.
My fingerprint unlocks the box, and I pull the gun out and hop up out of bed to see who the fuck is in here. I should be the only one in the apartment until Ciarán gets back home in two days.
I move through the hallway as quietly as I can. As the fog clears from my brain, I realize there is music playing low in the gym at the end of the hall. Dylan usually lifts weights in there when he’s home.
I wasn’t in there before I fell out, so I’m not the one who turned the music on. Maybe Taegan came by? I shake that thought off because she would have let me know first.
Sound from downstairs catches my ear and I head down that way, still moving as soundlessly as possible. When I get downstairs, there’s movement in the kitchen. I turn the corner and find Dylan’s big ass standing there, dripping in sweat as he downs a glass of water.
“What the fuck?” I breathe as I place the gun on safety.
Dylan looks to me and his eyes go wide. “Shit, did I wake you?”
“Well, duh. What are you doing here?”
A frown comes to his face. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
I move closer and place the gun on the countertop. Placing my hands on his bare torso, I look up into his eyes. He looks frustrated, angry, and … hurt.
“Babe, talk to me. What’s going on? Why are you here? Did something happen?”
Tears begin to swim in his eyes. He looks up at the ceiling to try to hide them from me. I cup the sides of his face.
“Hey, hey, what’s going on? Talk to me.”
