“I’ve given her a sedative so she’ll get some more restful sleep,” the doctor told Cian when he came out of the guest room at Cian’s apartment. “Should wear off by morning.”

“And her injuries?” he asked.

“Some damage to her larynx, but nothing that’s compromised her breathing. Shouldn’t be permanent. I’ve given her a round of antibiotics just in case any sort of infection were to develop in her trachea, and left some painkillers, just a few days’ worth. She shouldn’t need more than that. Also, I gave her some butterfly stitches for that cut. Mostly, she should rest her voice, drink and eat whatever feels okay on the injury, and stay away from whoever did that to her.”

Cian realized Dr. O’Reilly normally dealt with MacFarlane men who’d been hurt in fistfights or gun battles. He’d probably never treated a woman for the MacFarlanes, and Cian was surprised to hear the protectiveness in the old doctor’s tone.

“Trust me,” Cian said, “he won’t be anywhere near her again.”

The doctor looked at him sharply, then shook Cian’s hand and left. Cian walked down the hall to the small guest room. He quietly pushed the door open and leaned against the doorframe watching her sleep, her small frame finally looking peaceful and relaxed.

Cian had always had a thing for brunettes. Starting with Molly Reilly in ninth grade, he’d had a string of perky brunettes on parade in his teens and twenties. At first, he’d been happy to find girls who’d have sex with him, and not so happy when they’d wanted him to take on obligations that seemed onerous to a nineteen-year-old guy whose father expected him to oversee a dozen men, keep his younger brothers out of jail, and fetch and carry on a whim.

As the years went on and Cian continued to live at the beck and call of Robbie, things like women became tertiary. Protecting his brothers was always first, keeping Robbie from doing something rash was second, and getting laid somewhere after all that. By his mid-twenties, he never had anything other than perfunctory one-night stands. Owning a nightclub, it was simple to find partners, and his office at Banshee became the site for the vast majority of his sex life.

He shook his head as Lila murmured something and shifted in her sleep. God, did he even know when he’d last gotten laid? He really shouldn’t be dealing with Lila when he was probably primed to jump anyone who was willing.

But as he took one last look before shutting the door, and his heart did that thing it did all the time around her, he knew it wasn’t just because he wanted a good, hard screw. No, Lila from Rogue did something to him. Something he didn’t have time for, couldn’t afford, and sure as hell wasn’t allowed.

But damn, she was something.

He went the rest of the way down the hall to his own room. He had to be honest with himself, he wanted her something awful, and honestly, Cian was getting very tired of putting everyone else first. There was a voice inside his head screaming to get its due. A part of him that wasn’t nearly so noble as what he tried to portray. The truth? Yeah, Cian wanted Lila Rodriguez. Had wanted her since the day he first laid eyes on her, and now she was a few feet away, vulnerable, needing him in a way that made him feel powerful.

“You don’t have to sleep with her to save her, asshole,” he muttered to himself. In fact, Lila would be safer if she was far away from him. Maybe that was what he should do—get her a nice place with Wi-Fi on a beach somewhere and send her away. Things near him were only going to continue to heat up—the feds, his father, and now the Russians. Cian’s life was nonstop danger. How could he conceive of pulling Lila into that? Whether he was involved with her or not, he’d bring her nothing but trouble.

Then there was the other issue—the one where he needed to give up Rogue to the feds, and Lila would almost certainly be caught in the net. He’d thought about it over and over, and Rogue was the best way to give the feds something significant without doing damage to his brothers. If Cian could work out immunity for Liam and Finn, then he could hand the feds full access to the Rogue information, and given what he knew Rogue sold and to whom, the MacFarlane portion of it would only be a tiny fraction of what the feds found. Cian could simply wait it out, and whatever consequences fell on him and Robbie, he’d take them.

Except he was struggling with the idea of Lila going down with Rogue.

So yes, she’d be better off on a beach somewhere. He could make that happen. He didn’t like the thought of never seeing her again, but he did like the thought he drifted off to sleep with—Lila on a beach, smiling at a man who loved her. He knew he’d never be that man, but he put himself in the spot anyway. It was a dream, that was all. Cian knew dreams didn’t come true for guys like him.

* * *

Lila woke slowly, confusion clouding her head for the first few moments. Then it all came back to her, Xavier trying to kill her, the wet crunching sound as his head struck the doorframe in his office, calling Cian. Heat suffused her cheeks as she remembered him holding her, stroking her hair, telling her everything was going to be all right.

Her throat was raw and sore, and when she touched the skin on her neck, she felt the scab that had formed there. The memory of that chunk of glass pressing against her larynx made her stomach heave, and she had to take deep breaths to calm the rising panic.

When the wave of hysteria had passed, she rolled to one side to sit up, and every muscle in her body screamed in protest. She felt like she’d been beaten. “Because you were, Lila,” she mumbled.

Once she was upright, she stood and looked down at her clothes. She’d slept through the night in jeans and a plaid flannel shirt Cian had lent her so she could remove the bloody T-shirt she’d worn. She slowly walked to the adjoining bathroom and saw Cian had been kind enough to place a toothbrush in its wrapper along with some toothpaste on the counter. After brushing her teeth, rinsing her face, and finger combing her hair, she ventured out of the room and followed the smell of coffee that permeated the hallway.

She saw him before he saw her. He was standing in the kitchen with his back to her, a pair of sweats hanging low on his hips, shirtless, with bare feet.

She sucked in a breath as she looked at the tattoos that wrapped around his back and shoulders. Two huge wings, fanned out across his shoulder blades, and between them was a Celtic knot. The wings were in shades of blue and green, subtle, and variegated. Script flowed along each of the three parts of the knot, and as she walked closer, she saw they read, Liam, Finn, and Connor. His brothers. He had his brothers’ names tattooed on his back.

He hadn’t turned around because he was wearing earbuds, and she couldn’t help but wonder what music he liked. She realized that each time she was with him, he became less the cliché of a mob boss in her mind, and more a real person.

As she entered the kitchen, she heard him humming quietly along with whatever he was listening to. He was rinsing something in the kitchen sink, and she noticed bacon already sitting on a platter, and a waffle maker next to it cooking two large waffles.

She knocked lightly on the countertop, but he didn’t hear her, so she reached out and touched him gently on the elbow.

He moved so fast, she didn’t even have time to scream, although she doubted her throat was capable of it. He pinned her to the refrigerator, one hand holding her wrist next to her head, the other arm across her midsection so he immobilized her other arm and her entire torso at the same time. They blinked at each other a couple of times then he said, “Oh shit,” and released her before ripping the earbuds out of his ears.

“I’m sorry,” he said, watching her warily. “Are you okay?”

She took a deep breath and tried to ignore her racing heart. Nodding, she gave him a small smile. “Yeah, it’s all good.” Her voice sounded like she was a pack-a-day smoker. “I should have found a better way of letting you know I was here. I’m sorry.”

“No.” He stepped back, giving her more room that she wasn’t even sure she wanted. “I’m sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just—” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Cian?” she gingerly touched him on the arm again. “It’s really fine. I’m fine.”

He looked at her, and something in his face softened, pulling on her chest, making all her aches and pains seem less somehow.

“You never use my name,” he murmured, his gaze roaming her face. “I like the way it sounds on your lips.”

She swallowed around the raw pressure in her throat, not sure how to answer him. He saved her the trouble.

“How is your throat? Are you in a lot of pain? You should drink something. I sent the guys out to get a bunch of different stuff, so you can choose anything that sounds good.”

He gently pulled her away from the refrigerator door so he could open it to show her an entire shelf full of smoothies, sodas, carbonated waters, noncarbonated waters, iced teas, and juices. She tried to smother the smile that wrapped around her lips. He’d gone to a lot of trouble to make her comfortable.

“Um, how about this one?” She pointed to a cucumber-flavored water. “And maybe some coffee?” She wasn’t sure if the heat would be tolerable on her throat, but damn, she wanted the caffeine.

He got her drinks set up at the kitchen island, and she climbed onto a stool, running her hand across the smooth marble countertop as he continued preparing what looked to be a full breakfast for her.

“Do you always eat all this in the morning?” she asked.

“No, but I don’t always have a guest who was assaulted the night before and needs to get her strength back,” he answered.

She sipped her cucumber water, relishing how cool and soothing it felt on her ragged throat.

“Tell me how you really are,” he commanded as he poured more batter on the waffle maker.

She thought about it for a moment. “I’m sore everywhere, but I feel decent.”

“And in your head?”

She took a deep breath, doing an assessment of her own mental state. It certainly wasn’t fragile enough that she didn’t notice every little movement of his pecs and abs while he moved around the kitchen. Yeah, given how mesmerized she was by his body, she’d have to say she was psychologically fine. Well, it was all relative, but yeah.

“I’m okay,” she told him, setting the water aside and taking a small sip of coffee. “Ouch,” she rasped before drinking more water.

“That heat hurts?”

She nodded.

“Don’t worry, I can fix it for you.” He took her coffee cup off the counter and went to work, pulling things out of the cabinets and the refrigerator. A minute later, he turned back around and presented her with a tall glass of iced coffee swirling with rich cream. She took a tentative sip, and it was subtly sweet, with a hint of cinnamon and chocolate.

“Oh my God, that’s good,” she said in surprise. He grinned at her and removed the last waffles from the iron, adding them to the serving platter along with a bowl full of blackberries.

The waffles and bacon were barely tolerable on her throat, but she was able to get some berries down better, and all her coffee and water.

“You’re too thin to go without eating,” Cian said with concern. “I have some protein shakes. I think you should drink several of those a day until you can eat more than one corner of a waffle and half a slice of bacon.”

She chuckled. “Have you always had this motherly tendency?”

He grinned at her, and it was so stunning, it stole her breath. “I’m the oldest of four boys. My brothers need constant mothering.”

“Well, I promise not to starve to death.” She looked around at the clean, crisp decor of his luxurious apartment. “I should get out of your hair. I’m sure you have a lot to do today. I don’t know how I can ever thank you for what you did last night.” She realized in that moment, she was beholden to him—a mobster. She ought to be concerned about that, but given everything she was dealing with, she couldn’t gather up the energy.

“You don’t need to thank me, Lila. I’m honored you came to me, and I’d rather you not go back to your place for a few days. We need to make sure the Russians Xavier was working with don’t come looking for him and find you in the process.”

Her poor heart raced with a surge of adrenaline. “You said no one would be looking for him.”

He gave her a pitying look. “I said we could delay them by a few months, but if the Russians really are after MacFarlane territory, then they’ll show up eventually.”

“And if I’m the one left in charge of Rogue, they’re going to come straight for me, aren’t they?”

He looked miserable. “Which brings us to something I want to discuss with you this morning.”

He led the way to the big leather sofa that was placed by a bank of windows overlooking the street forty stories below.

Lila sat, folding her feet under her.

Cian stood by the window, looking like a dark angel lit up by the morning sun.

“I don’t know why you’ve made the choices you have—to pursue hacking for a place like Rogue rather than a legit security company or something. But I know for certain you never signed up to work with people like me.” Self-recrimination soaked through every word.

“While we didn’t realize it at the time, Xavier dragged you and other Rogue staff into a completely different level of danger. You may have had to worry about feds before, but now you have to worry about—” He paused, frowning. “People who will kill you rather than put you in prison.”

She held her breath, waiting to see where he was going with this.

When he continued, his voice was nearly as rough as her damaged one. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. It doesn’t make sense, I’ve only known you for a few weeks, and I deal with people who disappear all the time, but you’re not part of this world, and I don’t want you to be destroyed by it.”

Lila looked down at her hands, tears threatening in the face of his raw honesty. On the surface, it seemed like Cian was what she was used to—like Xavier, like her father. Men who used her for her talents but didn’t really care about her as a human being. But more and more, he was proving to be different, and that scared Lila worse than if he’d been more of the same.

“I can give you a fresh start,” he said, walking over and sitting on the coffee table so he was knee to knee with her, leaning into her space, all his bare skin mere inches from her fingertips. “I know you’re able to get yourself a new identity, but I can give you an offshore bank account, and a private jet out of the country to someplace tropical with no extradition agreements. You can start over. Get a legitimate job, or just invest wisely and hang out on the beach.”

She blinked at him. “What’s the catch?” she asked warily.

He shook his head in confusion. “Catch?”

“Yeah, what do I have to do? Let you launder money through my bank account? Do occasional hacking assignments? Be your mistress? How do I earn this fresh start?”

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline, and he burst out with a surprised chuckle.

“My mistress?” he asked, and Lila felt her face heat with a blush. God, why the hell had she said that? Of course a man like Cian MacFarlane wouldn’t be looking to her as a mistress. Idiot, Lila, pure idiot.

She gathered her dignity as best she could with him preventing her from stomping off across the room.

“Sorry, I realize that suggestion is ridiculous. I just meant how am I going to have to debase myself to get this amazing fresh start you’re offering?”

Cian seemed to find her anger entertaining, and rather than backing up like she wanted, he leaned closer, his elbows on his knees. She refused to be cowed, so she glowered at him. His gaze turned thoughtful.

“First of all, Lila from Rogue,” he said, his voice low and velvety. “If I had mistresses, you’d be my first choice for sure.”

Her heart nearly pounded out of her chest.

“But secondly, I don’t exploit women. I was raised by a good woman, and while my father has a lot of faults, treating my mother poorly wasn’t one of them. MacFarlane men don’t hit women, they don’t disrespect them, and they don’t exploit them.”

He reached out and ran one finger softly down the side of her face, stroking her cheek, sending tiny sparks of electricity straight to her chest. Then he took a deep breath as his eyes drifted closed for a moment. When he released it, he sat back, and it was all Lila could do not to follow him with her entire body as if they were connected by a string, chest to chest, heart to heart.

“The fresh start is yours to take, no conditions. You’ll never have to speak to or deal with anyone from my family or organization ever again.”

Lila’s head spun with the possibilities, even as something inside her sank in disappointment. But her practical side quickly took over, and she assessed the advantages, the disadvantages, the dangers and risks, along with the fact Cian MacFarlane had said she’d be his first choice for a mistress.

Cian watched her and waited, always patient, always observant.

“Can I think about it?” she asked, not able to clear her mind enough to make a decision right then.

“Of course. But in the meantime, you stay here. Deal?”

She nodded, not sure if being in such close proximity to him for an extended period of time was going to help her decision-making abilities.

“Now,” he said, smiling. “I bet you’d like to get fresh clothes and some of your other things.”

She agreed, grateful for the reprieve from life-altering decisions and the tumbling that was going on in her tummy.

“Good. Let me get dressed, and we’ll take you to your house so you can pack.”

As he walked away to his bedroom, Lila decided shock had finally set in, because she was actually considering saying no to his offer. It was absolute insanity, which would make sense, because Lila had become progressively crazier since meeting Cian. And now? She wasn’t sure if she was ready to leave him. Not even for a beach and a fresh start.