“Nah.” He shook his head. “I mean.” He squinted his eyes at my neck. “Just flushed.”
Yeah, because I heard footsteps on the other side of the door. Heard him clear his throat. Heard the words come in in that gorgeous Irish lilt he had. His voice was deep and melodious, and I wondered whether he could sing. Whether his voice had a rasp to it when he did, the kind that gave you goosebumps.
“Cool your blood. You seem stronger than the creature on the other side of this door.” Raff laughed and opened it.
“Kee,” my brother said, his voice low but urgent.
“I’m okay,” I said, though I was lying through my teeth. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Harrison caught me by the arm two steps in. “This was a bad idea. Let’s go.”
Too late. The marauder had locked eyes with me, stealing every ounce of my will to move, and before Harrison could turn me, had already ordered Raff to shut the door.
With the click of the closing door, I was snared and trapped, a fletching sticking out of a tiger’s mouth. Arrows be damned.
Even after Cash Kelly stood from behind his desk and extended his hand to my brother, it took me a minute to move. After I was able to tear my eyes from his eyes, they went straight to the side of his head, which was stained with blood that had almost turned completely black. Some spots were still ruby with fresh blood. His nose had been broken. It was crusted with blood, too.
“Boss,” my brother said. “You want me to get Susan to—”
“Flesh wound.” Cash waved him off. “Any blow to the head makes it seem worse than it really is.”
Huh. He was an expert in wounds.
He seemed like the kind of man everyone would want to kill. It was clear that if he wanted what you had, it was his. That sort of power came off of him in powerful waves. It smelled like the blood seeping from his head and nose, except it probably came from men who tried to stand in his way.
Maybe even some women. Their hearts. He stole their hearts in the metaphorical sense.
In that moment, there was no doubt that I was in big trouble. Cash Kelly was mayhem in a glass bottle, all of the chaos coming from his thoughts aimed straight at me.
What are you up to, Marauder? The tattoo on his neck, the tiger, never seemed more appropriate to describe a man before. No wonder he had it inked over the artery in his neck.
“Ms. Ryan,” he said, his voice causing me to shiver a bit. It was low, soft, but with a jagged edge that could slice through most defenses with its sharp intentions. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, darlin’.”
Good thing my highest defenses were up. He might reduce other women to puddles with his charm, but he’d die holding his breath before I fell at his feet.
“Why am I here?” The words came out blunt, even though my heart was beating too fast and my stomach kept rising only to keep plummeting. My breathing was chaotic, and I hoped he didn’t notice how my chest heaved.
“You get shorter and shorter every time I see you.” Cash shook his head. Then he nodded toward my brother. I hadn’t noticed until then that Harrison hadn’t taken a seat. He wasn’t getting comfortable, either. “Take a seat, Harry Boy. We have business to discuss.”
Cash took a seat on his marauding throne. He probably stole the regal-looking chair from someone more important than him.
“Sit,” he told my brother. Harrison stared at him for a moment and then did what he was told. After he did, Cash eyed me expectantly.
“If you expect me to sit, you’ll have to answer a question first.”
“She always this angry?”
My brother shook his head, but it wasn’t to deny Cash’s stupid-ass remark. He didn’t seem to want to entertain small talk.
“Shorter and shorter, darlin’,” Cash said and then sighed. “Usually after time apart, most people grow, either in height or in maturity. Your maturity always seems to get shrink each time we meet.”
“That’s because you bring out the worst in me.”
“Why is that?”
He settled in his seat, getting comfortable. Like he didn’t have fucking care in the world. La de da. I could be like any other singing Irishman in the world. Except it would be