Rogan landed one more punch then sat back, breathing heavily. Dylan searched for Brandt’s pulse. He was alive. For the moment, anyway.
Rogan stood, breathing heavily.
“How much of that blood is yours?” Dylan asked. Rogan was a mess. His clothing was torn and blood-spattered. His right eye was already swollen and puffy and blood was pouring out of his nose.
“Not much,” Rogan replied. He flicked his gaze over to where Tilly was threatening Aedan with bodily harm if he didn't put her down.
“Tilly, be quiet,” Rogan ordered. “Everything is all right now. Cillian, you okay?”
“Just a headache and some scratches boss. Bastard.” He spat on Brandt’s prone form. “I thought he was one of us. I let my guard down around him and he hit me with something. Next thing I know I’m in the trunk of the car.”
“You saved my life,” Dylan said clamping his hand down on Cillian’s shoulder. “I owe you.”
At the rate he was going he’d be paying off his debts until he was old and gray. This last week he’d been skating the edge of the law and it wasn’t a place he liked to be. Tonight had tipped him right off that line. This wasn’t his world. But he would do anything for Tilly. No matter what lines he had to cross, keeping her safe was his main priority.
Because his life meant nothing without her in it.
“Good. We need this mess cleaned up. Dylan, Aedan, take the girls back to the house. Aedan, call the doc for the girl. We can’t take her to the hospital.” He waved his hand at Miller.
“Are you sure? I can stay and help,” Dylan offered.
Rogan shook his head. “Get out of here. This isn’t your mess to clean up and you have a lot to lose if you get caught. Plus, you should get that arm examined.”
Rogan nodded at his arm. Dylan glanced down.
Ahh, shit, Tilly was going to have a fit when she found out he’d been shot.
***
“I can’t believe you got shot!” Tilly fussed with his blankets, tucking them in tighter. As soon as the doc had fixed up his arm, which had only really been a graze, Tilly had insisted he go to bed.
He’d agreed because he had figured it was the quickest and easiest way to get her to
rest. She looked absolutely shattered. Her eyes were wide and wild in her pale, drawn face. But instead of taking his cues to come to bed, she was flitting about the room, fiddling with things that didn’t need fixing.
She was wired and probably in shock from everything she’d seen tonight. He’d seen his share of violence and he was used to adrenaline surges and the inevitable crashes. This wasn’t the first time he’d even been shot. But in the last week, Tilly had had to deal with a missing friend, a gang threatening her, seeing a man beaten near to death and having her boyfriend shot.
“Tilly, come here,” he said gently. He was about to crash and he wanted her safely tucked up next to him before that happened.
Tilly shook her head. “I’ll get you some water for those pain pills.” She moved into the attached bathroom before Dylan could tell her not to bother. He had no intention of taking those pills. They’d just make him sleepier and now wasn’t the time for him to be drugged. Even though Rogan had put extra guards on the house, he didn’t feel totally at ease.
He knew he’d be sleeping lightly until they left San Antonio. Things were unstable right now. Rogan had been betrayed by his second and by the leader of another gang, who he was supposed to have a co-operation agreement with. If more blood wasn’t shed, Dylan would be surprised.
Tilly returned with a glass of water in her hand. She placed it on the bedside table then grabbed the bottle of pills.
“Okay, the doctor said you can have two of these every six hours.” She struggled to undo the top. “Damn it, why do they make these bottles so hard to get into….” She banged the top of the bottle against the edge of the bedside table.
“Tilly, give me the bottle,” he said.
She ignored him, dropping the bottle on the ground and raising her foot as though to stomp on it.
“Tilly, stop!” he said in his sternest voice.
Shocked, she gaped at him. He hadn’t wanted to get so firm with her, but he couldn’t think of another way of getting through to her. She wasn’t thinking properly.
“Pick up the bottle and hand it to me,” he told her in a calm, low voice. Exhaustion was pulling at him. He was desperate for some sleep, but he couldn’t allow himself to be pulled under until he knew she was resting.
Tilly peered at him, then the bottle, before quickly scooping it up and giving it to him.