Page 10 of Lawless Sinners

He falls from my arms and slumps on the floor, mask twisted, eyes glassy and fixed on nothing.

I drag in a breath that scrapes all the way down.

My ribs ache, and my scalp pulses where he’d grabbed my hair. Mud dries cold against my skin, and blood sits warm under my nails.

Fionn stands there, gun in hand, chest bare, black mask still covering his face. The light slashes over his skin and the controlled rise and fall of his breathing.

“If I find out they’ve hurt my sister,” he says. “I’ll come for you.”

“They haven’t.”

“Good.” He slides his gun into the waistband of his trousers. “Then we’re done here for now.”

He crosses to the bale and grabs his dirty shirt, his eyes meeting mine through the mask for a racing heartbeat, then he turns and walks out.

I stay where I am, sitting between two dead men and let him leave.

Blood creeps through the straw toward my boots, and I press my thighs together against the ache that bastard left there.

What kind of unhinged woman enjoys being hunted through the dark by an armed man in tailored trousers, a starched shirt and a balaclava?

Apparently, I do.

And the bastard knows it.

“Sera!”

My brother’s voice carries from beyond the barn. I push to my feet as the doors fly open and Rafe bursts inside with his gun raised.

His gaze jumps from me to the bodies, and I press a hand to my chest as though the gunfire is the reason my heart is still racing.

He can never know it started before anyone pulled a trigger.

Chapter 3

Fionn

Last night, my men dragged Sera Tallon off the street because her brothers stole my sister first.

A Tallon for a Harrington. That’s how this works.

But fuck, the sight of her in that barn has followed me across the heath. Wet black hair stuck to pale skin, blood streaked across her knuckles, and not one trace of submission on her face.

Most people shrink once they’re restrained. They bargain, beg, or cry.

Sera kept her glare strong and mouthed off to me as though the ropes around her wrists were my disadvantage.

The memory of her twisting beneath me spreads heat across the back of my neck. I crack the window lower and loosen my tie, letting the cold air blow through it.

Then I check my watch.

In a few minutes, I’ll be on Tallon land.

Keira has been with those people long enough.

Eventually, Black Heath Stud comes into view with its rolling hills and wooden barns. I slam my foot on the accelerator and speed along the lane in a Harrington estate black Range Rover.

The gates are open when I reach them, and I drive straight through without an invitation.