Tully (Dangerous Doms 7)

Then he takes me by the elbow, spins me around, and cracks his palm across my backside.

“Hey! Ow!”

“Behave yourself.”

I feel my cheeks flame. “Hard to behave myself when you’re always turning me on.” I don’t know how to explain how it makes me feel sort of little and softer when he gets all heavy-handed with me.

He grabs my arse cheek in his big, strong hand, and gives me a rough squeeze. I mutter under my breath, and he only narrows his eyes and shakes his head.

Classes go off without a hitch until midday. I’m tired, more so than ever now that I’m pregnant.

“Hungry, love?” Tully asks.

I wrinkle my nose. “Not for pasta and garlic, thank you.” I’ve smelled the scent of the kitchen crew cooking garlic and tomatoes all day long.

“How do you know that’s what they’re serving?”

“I can smell it all the way here, can’t you?” Nausea rolls through me. I normally love the school pasta dishes, as they’re very well done.

He chuckles. “I think only someone who was part dog could smell the school lunch all the way here in the classroom with the windows shut.”

“Or a pregnant woman with heightened senses.”

He winks at me and takes my hand.

“I’ll get you something else, then.”

“I actually packed a lunch from home today. Do you mind eating in here, though? I’m afraid I won’t make it through lunch if I have to smell the garlic.”

“Of course, love.”

He may be bossy and dominant as fuck when it comes to safety and Clan rules, but he’s pretty easygoing when it comes to most everything else. I like that about him.

He gets my lunch bag from my desk, as I put out bottles of water and napkins. My mouth waters when he removes the wrapped turkey sandwiches the staff packed for me this morning. I feel damn near spoiled eating the good, handmade food they’ve made. Hearty turkey sandwiches, slices of tangy cheese, ripe apples, and a thermos of the piping hot soup I’ve come to crave.

We tuck in quietly, and he makes a few comments on the lessons I taught that day, when something catches my eye outside the window.

“What is it?” he asks, not missing a thing.

“Hmm. Not sure,” I say, sipping my water. “Everyone else should be at the hall eating lunch, no?”

“Aye.”

Even most teachers join the rest of the school for lunch in the main hall. It’s rare that anyone stays back.

“And I thought you told me that Malachy insisted the boys be the ones who do the landscaping here at the school?”

“Aye,” he says. “Damn good idea, too. The boys take pride now that they’re the ones who maintain the property.”

“Then why is there a landscaping truck out there?”

Tully’s on his feet, at the window. He stands to the side so the shadow of the bushes outside the window hide him. “Good question,” he mutters, pulling out his phone. He swipes his fingers across the phone.

“Hey there, Malachy. Did you hire landscapers? Aye, that’s what I thought. Thanks.”

He hangs up the phone, his body tensing with the anger I’ve come to recognize that always precedes something violent and aggressive. An interrogation. A mission from Keenan. He reaches inside his vest, tugging a handgun out of its holster.

“Tully… what is it?”

“Malachy didn’t hire them,” he mutters. “I’d bet a thousand quid it’s a set-up.”

My blood runs cold. “What do you mean?”

“It means you’re going into the cloakroom with the door fucking locked until I come to get you.”

“I bloody well am not,” I say. “And leave my students in danger?”

He spins to look at me, pointing his gun to the floor. “You bloody well will. Your students are not your highest priority right now.” He jerks his chin at my belly. “Our baby is.”

How do you argue with that?

Panic suddenly sweeps through me. “What if you…” I can’t even bring myself to say it.

He crosses the room to me, bends, and brushes his lips across mine. “I’ll come back.”

“You’re not fucking invincible, Tully, honest to God!”

“I know it, lass,” he whispers in my ear, surprisingly tender despite the anger I can feel standing right next to him. “But I have a woman and baby to take care of now.”

* * *

Chapter 13

Tully

I hate leaving her. I fucking hate it. I feel as if I leave her with no protection, even though I know we’ve armed guards at every fucking doorway.

I speak to the guard, one of our youngest recruits, as I exit the building. They earn rank by obeying the men of the Clan and keeping us safe, their only job vigilance and surveillance.

I get the attention of one of the nearby guards. “No one comes in or out of that door.”

His eyes widen, and he nods, his hand already on a weapon.

I text Tiernan and Lachlan

Outside dining hall. Landscapers present without Malachy’s permission. Foul play.