“I think I’ll stay and see you in action, if you don’t mind.”

“I do mind.”

“Allow me to correct my statement—I don’t care if you mind. I’m staying.”

“I won’t treat him,” she threatened but was already getting to work cutting his shirt vertically with a pair of scissors.

“Yes, you will. Your need to be helpful overpowers your hatred toward me.”

“Don’t be so sure,” she muttered, working quickly and efficiently, removing the bullet from Becker’s lungs without breaking a fucking sweat.

“Your Hippocratic Oath, then.”

It was beautiful. Watching Aisling, the girl I knew since she was seventeen, withdrawing a bullet from a man’s lungs with the steadiest of hands while he was writhing in pain, twisting underneath her. I could tell the bullet didn’t pierce through the lung, but it was still damn impressive.

“Any news?” she asked as she began stitching him up.

“About?”

“My father and the media circus around him.”

You mean the one I created by hacking into that poor woman’s cloud just to satisfy my bloodthirsty tendencies?

It only mildly satisfied me to see Gerald shitting bricks in front of his entire family while he tried to explain that headline. I had much bigger plans for him, and I was going to execute them. Soon.

“Still working on it.”

“A bit slow, aren’t you?” Her delicate brows pinched together as she wove the needle in and out of Becker, who at this point was passed out. She looked like an English rose working on a quilted dress, not like a doctor stitching up a B-grade mobster.

“You got a problem, speak to my manager.”

“You are your own manager,” she pointed out.

“That’s right…” I paused for effect “…and I don’t care what you think about my services, so tough fucking luck, Nix.”

“So taciturn,” she tsked, treating me like I was no more than a boy, like Sparrow would when I had preteen meltdowns and didn’t know what to do with my energy. “Almost like you have something to hide.”

“Looks to me like you’re the one with the juicy secrets. Tell me about this friend of yours who is operating this place.” I motioned with my hand around us. Maybe it was time to replace Dr. Holmberg. This place looked legit, and the equipment was much better.

“I will do no such thing. I respect his privacy.”

Interesting.

I scanned the back of her head, her raven-blue locks twisted together into a braid, flung over one side of her shoulder. The contrast of her dark hair with her pale everything—eyes, skin, features—made her delectable and forbidden, much younger than her twenty-seven years.

“You know I’ll find out either way. Do yourself a favor and give me the information now,” I hissed, not used to people talking back to me.

Another first for me, sponsored by the unlikely Aisling Fitzpatrick and her newly found spunk.

She turned around, a hint of a smile on her lips.

“I’d like to see you try. Now please help me return Dumb to the reception, and fetch me Dumber. Go on, now.” She waved me off with a huff.

Nix went on to put Angus’ arm in a makeshift cast then proceeded to tell him how to tend to his injury, talking to him like she was a teacher and he was a schoolboy who had just crapped his pants in the middle of morning assembly.

As I watched her, I reminded myself that my need to fuck her was really about my desire to fuck Gerald Fitzpatrick over. Nothing more. She was a great fuck, sure, and a fairly harmless girl who’d been chasing me around for a decade. Of course I wanted in her pants. What man wouldn’t?

I just wanted to ruin another thing that was precious to Gerald.

Only in Aisling’s case, I was going to spare her. Or spite her by not giving her what she wanted. I really wasn’t sure which of the two had driven me to not touch her. All I knew was I had healthy instincts, and my instincts told me to stay the fuck away from this woman—far away.

When she was done, and both soldiers were waiting for me at the reception, she sauntered back to the small sink for another vigorous scrub of her hands and arms, still ignoring me like her life depended on it.

“What do I owe you?” I took out my wallet, plucking out a wad of cash.

“Nine grand, plus supplies, so let’s round it to eleven. Cash only.” She plucked a paper towel off the stand, wiping her hands then slam-dunking the wad of paper into a trash can.

I stared at her, waiting for the punchline. When it didn’t arrive, I narrowed my eyes.

“You’re kidding me.”

“Heavens, Brennan. I’m a highborn woman. I lack anything resembling a good sense of humor. Goes against everything I’ve been taught in Catholic school,” Ash said gravely. “Do you think it would be less pricey if you took them to the hospital?”

“I think if I took them to the hospital, they wouldn’t have been treated in some frat boy’s fucking basement.”

She poked her lip with a finger as she considered my words, unaffected. The only thing reminding me I was the one in control of the situation was her bottomless eyes. They held a promise to always want what I had to offer.

“They’re alive and well. Same result as you’d get at the hospital. I’m sorry, I assumed you’d have this kind of money handy. Would you like me to let you know about our payment options, Mr. Brennan?”

The little shi—

I stepped forward, eating up all of the distance between us in one go, baring my teeth as I boxed her in with my arms on either side of her shoulders, against the wall.

“What are you playing at, Nix?”

“Nothing.” Her eyes widened innocently. Blue, so terribly blue, and every shade of the color under the sun: ocean, sky, crayon, you name it. “You asked for my services. I assumed you were prepared to pay for them.”

“You don’t need the money.” I was chest-to-chest with her now, and here it was again, that faint ginger smell mixed with flowers and honey that gave me déjà vu of things and places I’d never experienced.

I’ll do things to you you will never forget.

“Neither do you. So pay up. I’ll be seeing you at Thanksgiving dinner. You can pay me then.” Ash smoothed her dress, which was now stained in Becker’s blood.

Right.

The world still turned on its axis, and our families continued to play nice with one another, oblivious to my vendetta. Other than Troy, who knew better than to ever let it slip.

The Fitzpatricks were hosting a Thanksgiving dinner next week. I wouldn’t miss it for the world, but for all the wrong reasons, and none of them had anything to do with their cook’s stuffed turkey.

“Now if you excuse me …” Nix ducked under my shoulder, trying to slip away. I pushed forward, pinning her in place against the wall. If it wasn’t for the slight quivering of her chin, I could have sworn she was cool as a cucumber. But that small shake betrayed her, and I seized the opportunity to tilt said chin upward, forcing her to look at me.

“How about a kiss?” I coaxed, my palm sliding from her wrist to her waist, down the curve of her firm ass, squeezing as I pulled her closer to me. I didn’t like the power shift between us and wanted to remind her who was the boss. I felt her thighs shaking against my sprawled fingers, ready and wanting, shivered into me as I gathered her close. Her body was soft, smooth, feminine. With hidden curves I had no business thinking about and was paid to ignore.