Beautifully Cruel

Chapter 6

JENNIE

When I open the door to my room, I'm greeted by the sight of Taehyung deep in conversation with the two police officers who came in earlier. 

Even when speaking to him, neither cop looks Liam in the eye. Their gazes stay fixed firmly on the toes of his shoes. 

Taehyung notices me standing there. He looks me over, eyes flashing like the wolf's in my dream. Then he says something to the cops, very low so only they can hear, and walks away from them toward me.

"How do you feel?" he asks when he reaches me. His frown tells me he doesn't approve of this plan.

"Terrible, but I'll live. I can't wait to get home and take a shower. Here—you left this in the room." I hold out the copy of In Search of Lost Time I grabbed on the way out, but Taehyung shakes his head.

"Keep it."

"I can't read French."

"Not yet."

He says it like he foresees many trips to Paris in my future. If only he knew I've never been outside the United States.

He takes my arm and gently steers me toward the elevators at the end of the hall, cradling his hand under my elbow as we walk.

We're silent as we ride the elevator down to the first floor, silent as we walk to the entrance, silent as he helps me into the back of the black Escalade waiting for us at the curb.

It isn't until we're pulling away from the hospital entrance that he speaks, and then it's to his driver...in a foreign language.

The driver—a good-looking thirtyish guy with linebacker's shoulders, black hair, and eyes as sharp and freezing blue as icicles—glances at me in the rearview mirror before murmuring an answer in the same language.

Either he's suffering from a serious case of resting bitch face, or he doesn't like me. His energy is as cold as his eyes.

When he turns his gaze back to the road, I feel like a rabbit that's been released from a trap.

I turn my attention to the foggy night beyond the windows. "Was that Gaelic?"

"Aye," comes Taehyung's low response. "But we just call it Irish." The following pause feels weighted. "You know it?"

"No. But my granddad was Irish. My dad's dad. He was from Dublin. He lived to be a hundred and four. He used to sing me lullabies when I was a baby."

I turn from the window just in time to see Taehyung and the driver exchanging a look in the rearview mirror.

That's the end of the conversation. Taehyung grows more and more tense as we approach my apartment, tense and restless, occasionally flexing his hands open then clenching them to fists.

The moment we pull to a stop in front of my apartment building, Taehyung leaps out of the car and heads around to my side.

As soon as the door slams behind him, the driver speaks, his Irish accent thick. "You take care now. Boston's a dangerous city. Wouldn't want to see a nice girl like you get hurt again."

His icy gaze drills into mine.

That was a threat. He's telling me to stay away from Taehyung.

What a dick.

I meet his cold stare in the rearview mirror, smile, and say with all the Texas charm I can muster, "Why, bless your heart, Mr. Driver. But you don't have to worry about me. I'm only helpless when my nail polish is wet, and even then I can still pull a trigger."

Our gazes hold until Taehyung opens my door. Then the driver looks away, shaking his head.

I think I see a hint of a smile on his face, but I could be mistaken.

I climb out of the car, square my shoulders, and look up into Taehyung's face. It's a long way up: he's standing on the curb and I'm in the street, and he's a head taller than me normally.

"So. I guess this is goodbye. Thank you for saving my life. I'd repay you if I knew how, or if I thought you'd let me, but I don't, and you won't, so my appreciation will have to do. Thank you again. I hope you have a nice life."

I stick out my hand, perversely satisfied to throw the same line back at him that he used on me when he tried to say goodbye in the diner.

He looks at my outstretched hand. He mutters something in Gaelic under his breath. He takes my hand and pulls me gently up onto the sidewalk.

Then he bends over and picks me up.

When he turns around and starts heading toward the front door of my building, carrying me in his arms like a child, I say, "Wait, I'm confused. What's happening now?"

He growls, "I'm putting you and that smart mouth of yours to bed is what's happening."

With that, he seals my smart mouth shut and injects electricity straight into my bloodstream.