Page 37 of Connor's Claim
“Please, Arran,” the man on the floor spoke, his voice thick.
Connor stood over his prone body. “This is what happens when you’re a faithless fuck, and when ye betray people who trusted ye.”
“I didn’t betray anyone, I never would,” the man pleaded. “My whole life is here. Please don’t do this.”
But Connor was unrepentant. “We saw ye with our own eyes, so don’t give me that shite. This is your doing. Get out while ye still can, and if I see your face here again, know that I’ll personally remove it from your body.”
The apparently rejected gang member pulled himself upright with difficulty. He limped to the door, head down, and his distress plain. Arran and Connor watched on, a solid wall of dark clothes and gang law.
My heart thumped. “Isn’t anyone going to help him?”
Genevieve shook her head, sorrow plain. “This is necessary.”
“He’s injured. He can barely walk.”
Convict reached the doors of the club, the bouncers stepping aside so he could pass. Once he was out of sight, Connor and Arran followed, presumably to check he’d gone.
Genevieve’s shoulders sank, and she snatched up her glass and downed her drink.
“That was rougher than I was expecting,” Cassie said.
“How were you expecting anything?” Genevieve asked. “Actually, I don’t know why I’m asking. You’ve turned into a regular spy.”
Cassie extended a casual arm. “Spy, detective, stalker, the CEO of all things feral and chaotic. I’ll get business cards made.”
On the table in front of Genevieve, her phone lit, and she read a message while the DJ started up the music again. The crowd rushed to fill the space the men had left, getting back to their partying like nothing had happened.
She lifted her gaze to me, her expression odd. “My brother’s here. He wants to see you. Do you know him?”
Cassie choked on her cocktail, recovering to run her fingers through her hair, her cheeks reddening.
“Your brother? I’ve no idea who he is,” I replied. “Why does he want to see me?”
“I’ve no idea, but he said it’s important and wants to come up. It’ll have to be quick, though. He got locked up in Shade’s apartment last time he came here.”
I goggled at her. “God. Is he dangerous?”
“Not at all. He’s the best. He was only protecting me.”
What was one more person to add to the drama of the night? I shrugged, losing myself in my thoughts until a man jogged up the stairs to the VIP area and approached our booth. He was tall and muscular, with tattooed arms and his brown hair long on top. He appeared a few years older than Genevieve and bore only a passing resemblance to her.
He reminded me of someone else. I couldn’t think who.
I did recognise him, though from somewhere long ago and obscured in my mind. His focus stuck on me, and he passed his hand across his face, temporarily obscuring the lower half, like Connor did when he wore his bandanna.
Adrenaline pumped through me, riding the connection I’d just made.
“What’s your brother’s name?” I asked Genevieve.
“Riordan.”
He was the man who’d broken into my house. Who’d tried to warn me. But right as I was putting the pieces together, Mick launched at him, a fist raised and his expression livid.
Chapter 13
Riordan
A catalogue of errors and the fact I was a stubborn asshole led to me storming a club I’d once been kicked out of. I spent my life trying to do the right thing, at least with regard to everyone else. I had to see this through to the end.