Page 19 of Wicked Devotions

“Fuck.” Declan echoes his father’s earlier sentiment. “Let’s figure out a schedule for who is with her.”

“She’s not going to like that,” I say.

“Does it look I give a fuck?” he counters.

Honestly, I don’t either.

As soon as we get the next week figured out, Declan goes upstairs to talk to Harper about the plan. It might have been better for Cy to deliver the news because he’s spent the most time with her without antagonizing her, but Declan insisted.

“I saw Georgios,” Cy tells me once we’re alone.

“When?” My gaze snaps to him.

“A couple days ago.”

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“Because I didn’t want you guys to worry until I knew when and what he wants me to do for him.”

“What’s that?” Dread drops in my gut like a ball of lead.

“Just a messenger this time. There’s a fighting ring in Atlanta. He’s got me set to fight some Irish punk who’s wavering on a deal Saturday.”

“We have an away game.”

“I know. I’ll be fine on my own.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Georgios knows about Harper; I want to keep you all as isolated from that part of my life as possible.”

“Did he threaten her?”

“Yes, but not in any more of a serious way than he’s threatened you or Declan.”

“I wish you’d let us buy your freedom from him.”

“It doesn’t work like that. If you did, he’d just keep shaking you down for more and more money. I have to earn my way out.”

It’s a pipe dream at this point, but I don’t say that out loud. It’s been years, and every time Cy thinks he is close to being finished, his uncle moves the goal post on him. I’m not a violent man, but his family makes me murderous.

“Are you going to sleep in my room again tonight?” I ask.

“Maybe. I’m going to go upstairs and paint for a while. I’ll come down if I need to.”

“Okay.” I wrap my arm around his shoulders and pull him to me for a loose hug. He comes willingly and rests his head on my shoulder like the weight of the world is on his own.

I have to fight the urge to walk him back against the wall and plunder his mouth with mine. We’ve had intense physical encounters over the years, and I think if we weren’t so afraid of losing each other, we would have had actual conversations about it. We might even have explored being in an actual relationship.

Instead, we just dance around each other until we crash against each other following his fights. The way he looks at me when I’m cleaning his cuts and abrasions is nothing short of intoxicating. His ferocity clings to his being and makes me feral, it’s explosive. He drops his arms from me and walks away. As much as it hurts, I know he’ll work through his feelings by putting brush to canvas and creating something beautiful. I walk over to the desk, giving the letter one more look before putting it away in the bottom drawer. The last thing Harper needs is to wander in here and find that sitting right there.

As I climb the stairs, I hear Declan’scutting sarcasm as he argues with Harper. I walk down the hall and let myself into her room, finding her facing off with him from opposite sides of the room.

“I don’t need you guys to babysit me. It’s probably just some weirdo bored because he lives in his mom’s basement.”

“Do you know how to protect yourself?” Declan challenges.

“Yeah, it’s called 911. Three little digits and the police come running.”