Page 8 of Hate to Love You
“Nah, the ladies love the scars, Bro,” he grunts as I press the towel down hard on his shoulder. “I keep telling you that. And with all those tats of yours, you should be going shirtless everywhere in your building.”
“Okay…”
“…The pool, the gym, even the mailboxes. You know, where you used to creep on that little brunette you liked, with the thick ass. I mean if you’d shown a little bit of skin once in a while maybe—”
“Alright, that’s enough, Casanova,” I say, pressing harder. “I’m not taking romantic advice from my kid brother.”
“If not me then who?” Pasha chuckles, leaning his head back against the seat as we run through an intersection without stopping. “I’m the master.”
I roll my eyes.
“Doctor Avery,” Calvin says, interrupting my thoughts. “We have a bit of a situation. Yeah, Pasha’s been hit. Yep. Shoulder. We’re five minutes away. Got it.”
Well, at least that’s good.
“Am I going to make it?” Pasha asks, chuckling to himself.
“Yeah, just try to stay conscious and not bleed too much in my car, alright?”
“Whatever you say, Big Ro,” he says, his words slurring a bit. “You’re the Boss.”
The sun is nearly coming up by the time me and Pasha make it back to my building. I thought it best he stay with me for the night, and miraculously he didn’t even put up a fight.
Although, to be fair, that might be due to the immense amount of painkillers Doctor Avery pumped into him before fishing the bullet out of his shoulder and stitching him up.
I’ve just poured myself a drink when Calvin walks into the room.
“Boss, I just wanted to let you know that the guys have taken care of the situation at the O’Brien house. It’s cleared.”
“Good,” I say, flicking through channels on my massive television.
But Calvin doesn’t leave, lingering until I look up at him.
“What?” I sigh, my exhaustion from the night’s activities starting to take a toll on me. “What else?”
“Boss, I think you should know that when the men pulled the woman’s ID’s from her wallet they found out what her name was.”
“And?” I snap. “What is it, Cal? Are you expecting me to guess?”
He shakes his head.
“No, Boss, her name is Saoirse…McCleary.”
“McCleary?” I ask, the blood freezing in my veins.
“Yes, Sir, Cillian McCleary is her cousin.”
“What?”
The words escape my lips as I immediately try to remember the frazzled redhead, suddenly connecting the similar eye color and distinct cheekbone structure they both shared.
There’s no denying it. The bullet I fired tonight had more meaning than I realized.
…And has ignited a war.
Chapter Two
ABBY