Page 51 of Brutal Heir

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CARA

The length of time between ringtone and voicemail differs each time I dial, confirming that Killian is purposefully ignoring me. At least he’s near his phone but as the hours tick by, the time between ring and voicemail grows. Maybe he’s just distracted or in a meeting with Dante discussing my lies and the false pretenses that laid the foundation of the Irish/Italian alliance.

Such a thought makes the wine churn in my stomach, and I grasp the edge of the metal sink just in case.

A lukewarm chill skitters across my skin, sweeping up my feverish chest and coiling around my throat. What if he’s with my father right now? What if he set out to kill him for his veiled attempts to start a war? The coil around my throat tightens, and tears sting at my eyes.

Oh no, I’m going to throw up. I shouldn’t have drank the whole bottle.

Acid burns a path up my gullet and I screw my eyes shut as a wave of nausea washes over me, threatening to unleash the alcohol in my gut. I press my lips together and force steady breaths through my nose until the urge passes and sweat begins to cool on my forehead.

Enough of this. I need to talk to Killian. And since he won’t answer me, I’ll call the next best thing.

Archer’s phone number had been added to my phone just after my kidnapping. An emergency contact in the event I needed help and couldn’t get through to Killian for whatever unlikely reason. This is as good a reason as any. I grab my phone, wiping cool sweat from my brow with my forearm, and scroll until Archer’s number flashes on the screen.

It rings twice.

“Yes?” Archer’s stoic tone is a welcome, warm sound in the emptiness of the kitchen, and I release a restrained breath. He doesn’tsoundangry. Maybe he understands my motives more than Killian does?

“Archer? It’s Cara.”

“I know. Caller ID.”

“Oh.” Of course. So stupid. “Uhm… are you busy?”

“What is it?” A slight bitterness tangs his words. No wonder, he’s the one that heard the secret from my father last night and told Killian.

I can’t find my voice for a moment, my lips parting with nothing to say, and as the silence drags on, I catch a sigh at the other end.

Come on, Cara, you’re better than this! Who cares what Archer thinks?

And yet, I do.

He’s been a steadfast face ever since one of the most traumatic nights of my life, and that brings me comfort, even if I’d never say such a thing out loud. I swipe my free hand along the counter, seeking courage in the marbled design.

“Listen. Killian, he… well, we argued. Pretty badly.” I leave the context unspoken. I’m sure Archer can work it out. At the thought of ourargument–if Killian force fucking me against a door counts–my core throbs unexpectedly. I swallow dryly as my thumbnail catches on a scratch on the perfect surface. “It was… yeah, it was bad and he left. He was distraught and he left, and now he won’t take my calls.”

There’s a beat of silence before Archer speaks, his tone remaining flat with a slight hint of bitterness. “Killian can take care of himself.”

“I know that!” My voice pitches unexpectedly. I clear my throat and run my thumbnail along the scratch. “Look, I’m worried about him, okay? I know you know what I did, that I lied, but….” The acid burn from earlier swells up my throat once more, but this time the nausea eases with words.

“I did what I had to do, okay? My father fucked up and he dumped that on me and despiteeverything, I did what I could to protect him. It’s what familydoesfor one another, and you can’t judge me for that! IknowI hurt Killian. Iknowthat. But I didn’t lie to be vicious. I was just protecting someone I love, a bad decision in an even more fucked up world!” My chest heaves as I finish my tirade, and my heart flutters violently inside. I wet my lips and smooth my fingers over the scratch as Archer remains silent. “So, if you could check in on him and make sure he hasn’t done anything stupid, I’d appreciate it.”

“How long?”

“Excuse me?” His question catches me off guard as my mind struggles to catch up with the tirade I just spewed down the phone.

“How long since he left?”

“Oh. Uhm… I don’t know, hours.”

“Be specific.”

“He left this morning, maybe around 11?”

“Was anyone with him?”


Tags: Ana West Erotic