"Hey, mate," Duff McKay said, breaking into the Irishman's thoughts as Patrick's eyes found his. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I wanted to check and see how my girl is doing."
"Your girl?" Patrick asked, cocking one blond brow. His voice was dark and deadly as he said, "She belongs to us, Duff. You would do well to remember that."
"Oh, fuck, not you too, Patty!" Duff chuckled, shaking his head. "I knew Johnny had it bad for the American, but you?" Seeing the Irishman's eyes darken slightly, Duff threw up his hands in surrender as he said, "Look, before you start screaming at me, I was joking, mate. You and John have never been orthodox when it comes to relationships, so why start now? Seriously, though, how is Gillian?"
"Thankfully, she's going to be all right. Those bastards roughed her up, and she will have some bruises, but Dutch says nothing is broken. She should be back to normal in a few days."
"That's good to hear," Duff said, his eyes roaming over Gillian's beautiful, porcelain skin. "Don't tell Johnny, but I happen to like the good doctor. I don't know if you've noticed, but she doesn't take his shit. I think we might be looking at the future Mrs. Kenric, Pat."
"We are," Patrick replied simply, looking at the small woman lying next to John. Could she really handle their world?
"Gillian's going to be okay, mate," Duff said, reading the concern and worry he saw etched in the lines of Patrick's tired face. "She's the toughest woman I have ever met, and as you know, I have met a few. Her life has been pure shit, Pat, and she's been completely alone through all of it. Instead of lying down and giving up, Gillian clawed her way to the top the same as we did. She's one of us, mate, probably even stronger than we are because, at least, we had each other."
Patrick said nothing as the Scottish man turned to make his way toward the door. Duff was right. Gillian Morgan's life mirrored theirs on so many levels. She had not only been abused and abandoned as a child, but she had been completely and utterly alone. That knowledge made Patrick want Gillian even more than he already did. Just like John, he wanted to possess her not only sexually, but emotionally. The problem was Patrick didn't know if Gillian felt the same. Fuck it, the Irishman thought as he plopped back down in the chair. He wasn't some love-sick fool who was looking for a soul mate. Gillian Morgan was John's problem and only his by association. He would help his brother and enjoy her talents, but he would leave the emotional shit to John.
Looking back at John and Gillian, Patrick let out a loud sigh. John looked so content lying beside the American. Leaning forward in his chair, Patrick lightly stroked Gillian's cheek. The woman instinctually rubbed her face against his palm in her sleep. "I'm going to have to guard my heart around you, sweetheart," he softly said with a smile. He then released her and eased back into the plush chair. It was going to be a long night.
Chapter 2
Gillian blindly ran toward the lighthouse. Glancing behind her, she screamed when she saw Galen quickly approaching her from behind. Tears streamed down her face as she frantically looked for a place to hide. Rounding the steps of the lighthouse, Gillian stopped dead in her tracks when she saw John coming up over the hill. Before she could call out to him, Gillian saw the bullet hit him directly between the eyes.
"John!" Gillian howled as his limp body fell to the ground. "John!"
The large, muscular British man jerked awake when he heard Gillian yell his name. He watched her thrashing about in the bed, crying and shaking uncontrollably. Gripping her shoulders and pulling her up, he attempted to get her attention, "Kitten, wake up!"
"Please don't die, John!" she wailed, her emerald eyes opening but still unable to clearly see her lover.
"Kitten, look at me, dammit. I'm right here," John said urgently before her eyes lifted to meet his.
"Oh my god!" Gillian cried out as she threw herself into his arms. "I thought I had lost you! I thought Galen killed you. I thought—"
The British billionaire silenced her cries as he slammed his mouth to hers in a hot, passionate kiss. The two lovers released all their fears and emotions into the kiss as Gillian quickly crawled across his lap to straddle him. Her small hands feverishly pulled at his black hair as she undulated her hips against his. John's tongue mated with hers a moment before he quickly jerked the gown she was wearing over her head.
"Fuck, I need you," John moaned into her mouth before his hands traveled up her sides to massage her breasts. He could feel his thick, hard cock pressing against the zipper of his jeans as her soaking wet pussy rubbed back and forth against his groin. When one hand made its way up her neck to jerk her head back, a painful gasp escaped Gillian's lips. Immediately coming to his senses, John tossed her off him before getting up. Running an agitated hand through his coal black hair, he growled, "What the fuck is wrong with me? I'm so sorry, kitten."
"John, I'm fine," Gillian said in a hoarse voice as she gently put her hand on her throat. "My throat is just sore. You didn't hurt me."
"Don't lie to me, kitten! You just cried out in pain!"
"Bear, please come back to bed," the beautiful American replied brokenly, tears filling her emerald eyes as she reached out and grabbed his hand. "I need you close to me right now. I just…need you to hold me."
Feeling like a complete and total bastard, John swooped Gillian up into his arms before climbing back into the bed. She buried her face in his muscular chest as he stroked her hair. "I'm sorry for yelling at you, kitten. I thought I had hurt you, after almost losing you yesterday. I was so…scared…I…"
Gillian heard the vulnerability in his voice and saw the unshed tears in his eyes as she looked at his darkly handsome face. She knew exactly how the Brit was feeling, because she felt it too. Gently stroking his bearded jaw, Gillian said, "I was scared too, Bear. I didn't think I was ever going to see you again. I thought—"
"Shh baby, you're safe now," John reassured her, carefully stroking her bruised cheek. He hated the tears that he saw falling down her beautiful face. "No one will ever put their fucking hands on you again, kitten. You have my word. I had no idea that Galen and Pandora were in France. I would have had more security. I would—"
"John, it wasn't your fault," Gillian interrupted, shaking her head. Placing a kiss on his warm lips, she wiped at the tears on her face. "Pandora came to the hospital and told me you had been shot! I only went with her because I thought you were hurt. I didn't know Galen was there until I got in the car. I…oh my god, Bear!" the American said with a panicked look on her face. "Did Galen rape me? He…choked me…I…passed out."
"He didn't rape you, sweetheart," John quickly assured her, tucking her hair gently behind her ears as he looked deeply in her emerald eyes, "I had Dutch and Bennett do a complete examination. You have bruising on your face and neck, but no other injuries."
"Is Galen…dead, Bear?" Gillian asked breathlessly, searching his molasses colored eyes for the truth.