Page 108 of Brutal Knight

“Just the way you take care of me, I’ll take care of you,” I say.

I mean every word. I want to look after him the way he looked after me, when I was getting clean. I’ll set everything else aside to help him. He deserves that much.

“I’ll make it up to you when you’re healed,” I promise. And then I take a risk, leaning in close. “I’ll make it up to you a few times. After all, we’re going to have to test how long you can last once you’re healed. Right?”

I can feel how hard his cock is from where my leg is pressed against him. There’s a rush of darkness in his eyes for a second, a flare of desire. He smiles slowly, and I get the feeling he’s thinking about what we’ll do later just as much as I am.

“Well, I can’t say no to that,” he replies. “I’ll just have to rest now, and heal as fast as I can.”

CHAPTER41

Connor

I hate to leave my wife.

Now that I finally have Willow back, I’ve spent every waking moment enjoying her company. I know more than ever that she’s the woman I want to spend my life with, the woman that I want children with. She’s family now.

With each day that the gunshot wound heals over, it feels like things between me and Willow grow stronger too. Despite the nightmare of dealing with her father, it’s good to have closed that chapter in our lives. He’s gone. There’s no one coming for her.

It feels like we finally have a chance to rest—although, true to her word, once I’m back on my feet from the injury, we lock ourselves in the bedroom and don't come out for almost an entire day.

I’d love nothing more than to just lie in bed with her every day for the rest of my life, but reality closes in like it always does. We both have business, her with the Ravens and me with my family.

A week from the day I brought Willow back home for good, Lachlan calls us all in for a meeting.

This time, we’re meeting at Tristan’s penthouse. It’s housed in a sleek building of slate-gray and steel, and the place looks like a movie set. He bought it pretty soon after Lachlan bought an apartment for business travel, and it felt like a subtle attempt to prove himself.

Or a one-up. Tristan isn’t combative, but he has a competitive streak in him that sometimes takes over everything else. I’m not sure what the impulse stems from, but this isn’t the first time he’s bought something just because someone else made a purchase.

The penthouse overlooks the city, the windows gleaming in the afternoon light. The place is furnished with a handful of family antiques, but most of the penthouse looks like a high-tech bachelor pad.

“You’re here,” Lachlan says as I enter, glancing up from a folder in his hand. “Good.”

I settle on a couch, and we get down to business immediately.

“The body was dumped. Wasn’t found right away,” Jamie says. “We didn’t make an effort to cover up, so I’m a little surprised. I guess they were more disorganized than we thought.”

It makes sense that Edward’s business was in disarray. From the moment he left the church, it was clear he was a single-minded man. But that doesn’t always work to your benefit when you have an organization to manage.

“Any backlash?” Lachlan asks.

Jamie shakes his head. “Nothing. No retaliation from the Channing mafia, but we kind of expected that. Edward’s death probably threw shit into turmoil for them.”

“It’ll take a while for a new leader to wrest control,” Aiden adds. “It’ll take even longer for them to settle in.”

“I can go to New York. Do another hit or two, take out businesses or players that matter to them,” Jamie volunteers.

“No. We’ll wait,” Lachlan immediately replies.

I can’t help agreeing. Jamie is good at what he does, but he’s been worrying us since his wife passed. He’s been taking risks, and though they’re sometimes needed, it feels wrong.

Besides which, I don’t see how this kind of strike will do us any good. And apparently, neither does Lachlan.

“It’s possible they won’t want to risk war by attacking us now,” Lachlan muses. “But if we bring the fight to them, we’ll be getting into a war for sure. That’s the last thing we need right now.”

“You got that fuckin’ right,” Finn puts in, and I glance over at him, noticing that his words are slurring a little.

He’s either drunk or badly hungover. I can’t even tell sometimes. He’s in rough shape, and I know he’s still dealing with the loss of our mother. That hit all of us pretty hard, but he seems to be struggling the most with it, unable to let go of his grief.

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