Tiernan (Dangerous Doms 6)

My logic seems to be returning, though. I try to piece it all together.

The man holding me’s Keenan.

The man who rescued me is Tiernan.

They’re taking Tiernan to the bunker because he killed a man and his life could be forfeit. And me?

I don’t know what the bloody hell they’re doing with me.Chapter 5Tiernan“Let me fucking go, Lachlan.”

I try to shrug him off. Like Nolan, he’s both my Clan brother and my brother-in-law, so we have a bond unlike I do with the others. Every member of the Clan takes vows of loyalty, but Nolan and Lachlan are different. They know me more intimately than the others.

“Not on your fucking life,” Lachlan mutters. “And if you keep fighting me, I’ll call in back-up.”

I’m trying to get away from him, but he holds me fast and shoves me into an awaiting car.

“Bunker,” he says to the driver. I look to see it’s Boner.

“He’s our fucking driver tonight?”

“Aye,” Lachlan mutters. “Feckin’ bunker won’t save us from that.”

I want to laugh, but it ends on a sigh.

“Jesus, Tiernan, what the bloody hell were you thinking?”

I swivel my gaze to his. Is he serious?

“If you heard Fiona screaming, and you came running, and you found a man who was trying to rape her who also promised he’d find her and kill her, what would you do? Hmm?” I glare at him. “Gently suggest anger counseling?”

He growls, the visual I painted clearly inciting fury. “I’d tear off his dick and shove it up his arse before I murdered him with my bare hands.”

“Course you would,” I say. “So you understand, then.”

He gives me a withering look. “That girl is no Fiona to you, though, Tiernan.” He’s been married to my sister for several years, and the two of them were damn near fated to be together.

He’s right, but I’m not in the mood. How do I fucking know what came over me?

“Shut it, Lach. I don’t want your fucking lecture.”

He raises his brows and opens his mouth, then closes it again quickly.

“You’re right,” he says with annoying patience. “I’ll save that for Keenan.” He narrows his eyes on me. “But I hope he assigns me your bloody fucking punishment.”

My stomach actually tightens at that. If Keenan sentences me for punishment for my reckless behavior, there will be no fighting back. I’ll take it, as I’m meant to.

Will he, though?

I blow out a breath and look out the window. “Fucking worth it,” I mutter.

“The bastard came there to kill you,” Boner says while he navigates the streets like a drunken race car driver.

“Oh? What gave you that fucking idea, Sherlock? And Christ, will you please watch how you’re fucking driving before you bloody kill us?”

He rolls his eyes at me. “We’re fine. Good as gold, here. So what the fuck did you do to him to earn him pulling a weapon on you in the middle of the match? Were you set up?”

“Something like,” I say, my anger fading as I try to piece it together. And it serves no purpose for me to attack my Clan brothers now. They’re the ones on my fucking side.

“Who invited you?” Lachlan asks.

“Danny Cook.”

Lachlan scowls. “He’s not the type to get involved. Not very likely someone put him up to it. Bet he just wanted you back in the ring.”

I nod. “Aye.”

“But once word got out you were the one fighting, Cage packed a fucking weapon.”

“Not only packed it, but security let him get away with it.”

Lachlan nods. “Aye. So let’s name your enemies, then.”

I snort. “Name my fucking enemies, Lach? You out of your bloody mind? Keenan’s had me going from Boston to Bangkok, Paris to Malaysia. I’m fucking Clan enforcer, brother. I’ve punished and killed, and stacked enemies from fucking coast to coast.”

Boner nods. “That he does. Right proud of you, son.”

I roll my eyes. “Oh fuck off, Boner.”

He chortles with laughter, the wanker.

Lachlan blows out a breath. “Well, now you’ve got yourself another.”

“Thanks, Lach, whose fucking side are y’on anyway?”

He’s usually got a sense of humor, but tonight there’s not a trace. He’s older than I am. They all are. But he’s the one that’s really taken me under his wing, showed me the ways of the Clan. He taught me to rein in my temper and use it for good, to abide by Clan code.

“I feel goddamn responsible,” he mutters.

I smack his shoulder. “Oh shut it, will you? What the feck are you going on about?”

He smacks me back, and it bloody hurts. “I was the one that taught you to fight that good!”

I actually laugh out loud, and finally feel a bit of the tension seep out of me.

“Oh, that’s right. Then it’s totally your fucking fault. If you’d just left me a gangly, ragey teen with a chip on his shoulder, none of this would’ve happened!”