She turned to face me, hands balled into fists. I raised an eyebrow—she looked like she wanted to fight me. Little Irene, pretty little Irene, half my size and a third of my weight and thought she could fight me. I almost wanted to see it.
Back in the day, she hated violence. Maybe now she was starting to understand.
Violence always found you, whether you wanted it or not.
“You’re not keeping me here,” she said.
“I’m not going to force you to stay,” I said. “But you just got your face beaten by Ronan Healy for trying to steal from him. I can’t imagine you want to be out on the street right now.”
She relaxed slightly and glanced to the side. She must’ve had that same thought.
“You’re right,” she said grudgingly. “You don’t mind if I stay here?”
“I don’t mind at all,” I said. “It’s good to see you again.”
She looked at me and tilted her head. A small smile pressed against her lips. “I bet it is,” she said, and walked away then. The bathroom door slammed shut, and I lingered in the hall, staring down at the bare wood floor.
The was the same Irene I remembered, but something had happened to her. I didn’t know where she’d been for the last two years, but if she was stealing from a man like Ronan Healy, then it couldn’t have been good.
I wanted to help her. Most of all, I wanted to keep her. She got away once, but I couldn’t let that happen again, not when she was finally back in my life.
She was the first and only woman to ever make me want to change.
I couldn’t, and I lost her for it, but I wanted to at least.
The shower started and I left her to it. I sat back on the couch and called up Linc. He gave me a quick update, everything was quiet, they didn’t find any trace of Ronan, and everyone was headed back in for the night. I hung up and stripped off my blood-splattered shirt, tossing it on the floor.
Fucking hell, Irene. She was going to be trouble, I could already feel it, but my stomach did flips at the thought of her naked in my shower, the water dripping down the body I’d always wanted, the body I craved for years.
Back in my life, but dangerous, and definitely hiding something.
I’d pull her secrets out like teeth, then never let her escape me again.
3
Irene
I woke up to find a shirtless and absolutely ripped and gorgeous Cam sleeping on the couch. I stood in the hallway that led back to his bedroom staring at his body, wondering if I could make a break for it.
I had to remind myself that I was safer with him than I was on the street. Running away was an old habit, one I’d have to forget about.
“You can stop staring, I’m awake,” he said and opened one eye.
I felt my cheeks color. “Sorry,” I said, and quickly walked into the kitchen. I found the coffee machine and set about getting some brewed while Cam stood in the kitchen door watching me. I wished he’d put a freaking shirt on but I studiously ignored him as I opened the refrigerator, took out some eggs, and started cooking. I figured at least I owed him a good breakfast for saving my life.
And besides, it’d been a while since I saw a refrigerator with more food than cheap alcohol inside of it.
“You seem different,” Cam said after a while.
I looked over my shoulder and forced a smile. “Yeah? Am I glowing?”
He smirked back. “That’s it, you’re glowing.”
I stared down at the eggs as I moved them around. “Two years is a long time, you know,” I said. “You don’t exactly look the same, either.” Which wasn’t totally true: Cam had always been gorgeous. He’d added some muscle to his already bulky frame, but he was otherwise his usual self.
“That’s true,” he said. “I’m a big, strapping young man now.”
I snorted. “Hardly.”
He leaned up against the counter. “Where have you been, anyway?”
I shrugged and gestured in the air with the spatula. I was careful not to look at him—he always could tell when I was lying.
“Around,” I said. “You know.”
“Sure, around,” he said. “I’ve been around, but I haven’t seen you.”
“I left the neighborhood, found something better.”
“Of course.” He hopped up and sat on the counter, staring at me. I glanced back at his muscular arms then quickly looked away. I found two plates and divided the eggs evenly, though my stomach rumbled. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a fresh cooked meal like this.
“Here you go,” I said and put the plate down next to him. I stood away and dug into my food with a shocking hungry. It wasn’t anything special: salt, pepper, a little butter, a little milk, and boom, scrambled eggs, but they were warm and delicious and better than the prepackaged stuff I’d been living off for the last month. I stole a crate of those cheap apple pies from the back of a bodega and they kept me going when things got rough.