Shattered Heart: The Donnellys, Book 3 (16 page)

He’d put his hands on Shane’s woman. He’d hurt her. God knows what would’ve happened if Shane hadn’t gotten there when he did. A shiver raced down his spine and he cringed as he gently stroked her cheek. He glanced around the room in search of the gun. Spotting it in the far corner, far enough away from Carlos, he turned his focus back to Cyn and untied her wrists. “Wake up, honey.”

She roused a bit, letting out a groan. Her eyelids fluttered and then she finally opened them. “Hi.”

Relief washed through him, but concern replaced it. “You okay?”

As if she suddenly realized what was going on, she knifed up and looked around the room, a frantic look in her eyes. “Where is he? Oh, God, Shane there’s a gun!”

“Shhh. Babe, it’s okay.” He gripped her arms and gently shook her and she focused back on him. “Cyn, just breathe. You’re safe. Cops are on their way.”

“Oh God! I was so scared.” She threw her arms around his neck and started crying.

“Me too.” Shane cradled the back of her head, holding her tight to his chest. “I’m here now. I got you.” He glanced over at Carlos, who was still passed out, and white-hot rage spiked in his gut. Two tours in Iraq, plus contract work in Afghanistan, and never had he been as scared as he was when he walked into Cyn’s house and found her on the ground, some crazed motherfucker on top of her, slapping her around like she was some sort of punching bag.

Sirens rang in his ears and Cyn sucked in a harsh breath. “It’s okay. Just stay here, I’ll let them in.”

She tightened her hold. “Please, don’t go. Please?”

Shane closed his eyes tight, drawing in a hard breath. “Okay, come on.” He stood with her and then walked to the gun. Picking it up, he removed the clip and checked the chamber. It was empty. Taking her by the hand, he moved to the front door. “Babe, I need to hold the weapon above my head. When we open the door, the officers are probably going to have their guns drawn. Just stay behind me, okay. And don’t panic.” He stared into her eyes, hoping like hell she wasn’t going to lose it. “Sweetheart, do you understand?”

She looked down at the gun as she raised her hand to her throat. “Yes.”

“It’s going to be fine, just stay behind me.” He kissed her forehead before shifting her behind him. Holding the gun over his head, he twisted the knob, and opened the door.

Three officers had their weapons drawn. “Freeze,” one said.

Shane raised his other hand. “I’m Shane Conlon. This is Cynthia Donnelly, the victim, behind me. The intruder is inside, unconscious on the living room floor. Gun has been unloaded.”

“Step forward slowly, both of you.”

Shane did as instructed, hoping like hell Cyn followed direction.

“Ma’am, step to your left. Sir, slowly put the weapon on the ground.”

Shane, again, did as they instructed, keeping his arms in the air. Cyn did as they directed too, thank God.

One officer holstered his weapon and stepped to Shane. “Turn around and drop to your knees.”

While the others kept him at gunpoint, Shane did exactly as he was told, placing his hands on the back of his head and interlacing his fingers. The officer grabbed Shane’s hands and began searching him for additional weapons. His wallet was also pulled from his back pocket. When he was done searching him, Shane felt the added pressure of the officer’s knee in his back, and then the cold steal of a cuff was around his wrist. In one motion both arms were lowered and the other wrist cuffed.

“Why are you cuffing him? It’s not him. It’s my ex, Carlos Ortiz…he’s inside.” Her breath hitched and a tear trickled down her cheek.

Shane’s heart clenched and he gritted his teeth. Fuck, he wanted to kill that bastard for hurting her.

“He’s clear.”

Shane was un-cuffed and another officer who’d joined the one searching him handed Shane his wallet. Cyn ran over and pressed herself to his side. Shane wrapped an arm around her.

Two new officers approached. “We’re going to need to get a statement from the two of you separately,” one said.

The other motioned to Cyn. “Ma’am, let’s move to the ambulance and we can talk there.”

“No. I’m not going anywhere until Shane can come with me!”

There was his girl, trying to control the situation. So typical of her. Shane smiled. “Cyn, babe. It’s okay. Go with them so they can attend to you. I’m going to be talking with the officers for a minute.”

“I’m not going anywhere!” She crossed her arms.

Letting out a sigh, and knowing she was not going to budge, Shane looked to the officers. “Mind if we talk by the ambulance?”

“That’d be best.” The officer extended his arm toward the ambulance.

“Fuck you and fuck this! She’s a cunt!” Carlos’s voice boomed from inside the house. Shane looked back at the door to see him being escorted out of Cyn’s house by an officer, his hands cuffed behind his back.

“No reason to see this.” Shane turned with her and started toward the ambulance.

“This isn’t over, Cynthia! Not by a long shot,” Carlos yelled as he was walked to a waiting patrol car.

“Ignore him,” Shane said and kept them moving.

As the EMTs got her lip cleaned up and an ice pack on her cheek and the back of her head, Shane sat in silence, blood boiling over inside his veins. When the medic was done, Cyn gave her statement to the police. Shane had to step away because the officers wanted them separated while they got the story about what happened.

Once again, he thanked God that he’d gotten there when he did, but he wished he’d gotten to her sooner. Like…before the fucker even got her in the house. Never mind the fact that Shane should’ve been listening to the warning bells that’d been going off in his gut ever since Monday night.

He’d known that night something wasn’t right, but he’d let it go. He never should have. He had one full day left in town, but there was no fucking way in hell he was leaving her now. He’d just have to extend his trip a little longer—for how long he didn’t know, didn’t care either.

He just knew he wasn’t leaving.

Chapter Twenty-Five

C
yn rolled to her side in bed, her whole body shouting in protest. Holy hell, she was sore. Every-damn-where. She hadn’t gotten very good sleep either. Every time she thought she heard a noise she jerked her head in the direction she swore it was coming from only to find nothing there.

“You okay?” Shane laid his hand on her hip.

“Mm. Just sore.” Cyn felt his warm body curl against her back and she closed her eyes.

He kissed her shoulder. “Warm bath would help.”

“Yeah, I guess it would. I’m just so tired. Want to sleep more.”

“Then sleep, babe. I’m here.”

“’Kay.” She adjusted the pillow and winced as the throb in her head doubled. The EMT didn’t think she had a concussion but had instructed both Shane and her on what to look for just in case. Cyn blew out a breath. “Head hurts, Shane.”

“Let me grab you some Tylenol. Sit tight.” He kissed her shoulder again and then she felt his absence as he got out of the bed. He was back before she even realized, standing next to her side of the bed. “Here, babe. Let me help you up.”

She gazed up at him. His chest was bare and he wore only his boxer briefs. Her head might be killing her but she wasn’t blind. The man never failed to take her breath away. “No, it’s okay.” Raising on her elbow she took the two pills from him and swallowed them down with the water bottle he’d brought. Lying back down, she closed her eyes. “Thank you.”

“Worried you might actually have a concussion. Look up at me, Cyn.”

With effort, she opened her eyes and gazed up at him. He had her cell phone in his hand, the flashlight feature turned on. She squinted at the bright light.

“Sorry. Need to see how sensitive you are to the light. Too much?”

“Duh! It’s bright!” She chuckled.

“Too bright?”

She smiled. “Nah, not more than normal. Did I pass?”

When he was done with that, he cupped her chin in his hand and stared into her eyes. “Do you feel dizzy?”

“Only when you stare at me like you want to eat me for dinner.” She licked her lips. “Not really. Just tired and achy. How’d I do? Did I pass?

“Come on now, I’m being serious and you’re being frisky.” He chuckled. “Yeah, you passed, but I’m still worried.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and stepped away.

Cyn felt the bed dip, and then his warm body was pressed against her back again. Shane rested one hand on her hip and she closed her eyes. “You’re being paranoid.”

“And that’s what you told me on Monday about Carlos and look how that turned out.”

“Touché. But I already know it was my fault.” She yawned.

“I did not even say that, so do not put words in my mouth because I will definitely paddle your ass if you continue down that path. It was not your fault. Not mine either. It was that crazy bastard’s fault.” His voice was a low rumble and beyond serious.

“Fine.”

“Good. Now sleep more. You need it.” He pressed another kiss to her shoulder.

Cyn edged closer to him. She’d given in and agreed with Shane to appease him, but couldn’t help but wonder if there was truth to the idea that if she’d listened to him, or to Maiya even, this wouldn’t have happened. She didn’t have a chance to consider it more because sleep took her. Finally.

S
hane woke early with Cyn’s body curled against him. Most of the night, she’d been having dreams, likely nightmares about the attack. She’d woken a bunch of times, disoriented and crying. The times she hadn’t woke up, she’d cried out in her sleep or yelled Carlos’s name. Shane had hated hearing the pain and fear in her cries, and her words. All he could do was hold her—it wasn’t like he could fight Carlos in her dreams.

Hoping not to wake her, he rose from the bed, threw on his jeans and headed to the kitchen. First thing he did was put in a call to her parents, letting them know what happened. The second thing was cancel his flight home. He’d let Cyn know later that he was staying, or maybe he’d wait to tell her tomorrow. It wasn’t important.

The only thing that mattered to him was that he was staying and planned on being there until he was sure she was okay. No matter how long it took.

Swallowing the rest of his coffee, Shane set the cup in the sink and made his way to her bathroom. He stepped under the spray, hoping to gain some of his own relief. His body wasn’t really sore from the altercation, more that his head was all fucked up over what’d happened. His mind vacillated back and forth between fear of losing her and rage at what happened. Guilt was in there too. He should’ve been there, but no matter what, he was there now.

After finishing in the bathroom, Shane made his way back to her bed. He hadn’t gotten much sleep either. He could’ve stayed awake but in truth he was so freaked about what happened, he just needed to be as close to Cyn as he could get.

C
yn came awake in her bed alone but could hear the sounds of voices somewhere in her house. Her family must be there. She sat up, slow and easy, and groaned. Her body was beyond unhappy with her. Christ, she felt eighty. She eyed the clock. One p.m. At least she’d gotten a few more hours in, though she could probably go back to sleep without much effort whatsoever.

The need to pee forced her from the bed, and she padded to her bathroom, closing herself in. After taking care of business, she ran her fingers through her hair and got a good look at the damage Carlos’s handy work had done to her face.

A purple bruise decorated one cheek and her bottom lip was still swollen, the split in it incredibly sore. She brushed her teeth carefully. When there was a knock at the door, Cyn bent over the sink, rinsed, and then wiped her mouth gently on a towel before opening the door.

A gentle smile curved Shane’s lips as he looked her up and down. “Like you in my shirt. How you feeling?”

Cyn smoothed her palms down the front of his XXL T-shirt. “Sore. Hungry too.”

“Your parents are here, and a few of the clan.”

Cyn looked up at him and frowned. “I figured. Define a few?”

He laughed. “That’s my girl. Still full of spunk.” He bent forward and kissed her cheek. “Jimmy and his woman. Angie, Mary and Joey and Steph.”

She rolled her eyes but then smiled. “Is Madi here too?”

“Yeah. Sonja’s daughter Casey is playing with her in the living room. None of the other kids are here though.”

“Ugh, Shane!” Frustration bubbled up, zipping through her and she blew past him into her bedroom. “I don’t want the baby in that tainted room. We need to sanitize it.” She yanked a pair of sweats from her drawer. “Jesus! I feel like I need to sanitize the whole freaking house.”

Shane crossed his arms. “I already took care of it.”

She stopped, one leg half in her sweats. “What do you mean, ‘you took care of it’?”

“Just what I said. I took care of it.”

Cyn pulled her pants the rest of the way on, grabbed a pair of socks and threw them on too. Blowing out a breath, she smoothed her hair away from her face. “Fine. I’ll just go check it out.”

“Fine.”

Shane followed as she walked to the living room. Anxiety rode her hard, sending chills up and down her spine. She just…needed to see for herself. Cyn glanced around. The broken lamp had been cleaned up. The end table put back in place. Everything appeared to be where it was supposed to be. Little Madi let out a squeal from where she sat on Sonja’s daughter’s lap, and Casey looked up at Cyn from the couch.

Cyn forced a smile and as even a tone as she could. “Hi, pretty girls!” She rushed past them to where Carlos had spit blood on her floor. That’d been cleaned too. She turned back to Shane who was leaning against the wall, his arms once again crossed in front of his big chest. “Did you use the bleach wipes under the kitchen sink?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?” She stomped back to him.

Shane circled her arm in his palm. “Because I used a bleach and water solution instead.”

“Oh.” His way was probably better. Jesus, she was being a bitch. Embarrassment settled heavy like a brick in her gut and she looked up at him “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He kissed her forehead. “Your mom is cooking in the kitchen. Still hungry?”

Cyn rubbed the spot he’d kissed her and yawned. “Yeah. I think.” She shrugged. “Maybe I should just go lay back down.”

Shane pulled her into an embrace. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

She rested her cheek on his chest. “Okay.”

“Okay, let’s go.” Turning them, Shane walked her back to her bedroom and helped her into bed.

After he closed the door, leaving her in silence, Cyn turned over and stared blankly at the thin roman shades covering her windows. Her head felt like it was filled with cotton, but she wasn’t sure if that was from the physical assault or the emotional one. She just knew her head was all sorts of fucked up.

Cyn adjusted the pillow beneath her head. How could she be so wrong about Carlos? A broken picker was one thing, but picking someone like Carlos went way past broken and landed dead center in the realm of shattered. He’d always had a bit of a temper—who didn’t when provoked? God knew, she’d seen him throw his fair share of fits, but nothing like last night. Last night had been a mind fuck. Last night had been a nightmare. And she still couldn’t wrap her brain around it.

* * * * *

“
She went back to bed.” Shane settled at Cyn’s kitchen table across from Angie and Mary and glanced over at Sonja and Jimmy, sitting side by side on the window seat along the back wall of the kitchen. Roseanne—
Jesus it’s strange calling her that
—was at the stove stirring a pot of chicken noodle soup.

It was just like the Donnellys to come together to support and care for one of their own. Cyn might be okay, thank God, but there was no way the family wouldn’t be right there to make sure of it. They took care of each other, even if sometimes they bickered or fought like any other family. It was one of the main reasons why Shane cared so much about them. After his father died, his perceived family died with him. The Donnellys were where he found what he needed. They stood in the gap for him and made sure, in their own way, that Shane was loved. They weren’t perfect, but in Shane’s eyes, they were amazing.

“She okay?” Jimmy asked.

“Yeah, I think so.” Shane rubbed the back of his neck. “Did you hear her in the living room though?”

Angie leaned forward. “No. What happened?”

“She got a little upset, is all.” Shane blew out a breath. “She was worried about Madi playing in the living room. Said she needed to make sure it was disinfected.”

Mary raised her coffee cup. “Ah, Cyn’s dreaded control monster rears its head.”

“Shut up, Mary. She went through hell last night.” Angie stood, the chair screeching across the tile floor.

“What? I’m just saying.” Mary waved her hand at Angie, dismissing her. “Stop being so protective. I’m not attacking Cyn. Everyone knows she’s got a penchant for controlling situations.”

Shane sat back with wide eyes as the two bickered.

“You
are
attacking her. You’re always criticizing her too. You go through what Cyn did last night and see how well you handle it. You think you know everything, I’d say that’s your way of controlling things. So what-the-hell-ever. Back off of her.” Angie stormed from the room.

Jimmy stood. “Well, isn’t this fun?” He held out his palm to Sonja. “Care to join me in the living room with my niece and your daughter?”

Sonja smiled, taking his hand. As they walked out of the room, Joey and Steph came inside from the back patio. “So, I take it Angie and Mary are going at it again?”

“Keep your comments to yourself, Joey.” Mary’s tone was impassive. “Angie’s just being sensitive as usual.”

“All right, I’ve had about enough of this.”

Everyone froze and Shane looked over to find that Roseanne had stepped away from the stove and into the center of the room—her hands on her hips, a dishtowel thrown over her shoulder. She had a look on her face that Shane remembered seeing when they were all kids. And he was grateful she didn’t have a wooden spoon in her hand.

Roseanne glanced between them all. “Mary, make yourself useful and go out back and find your father.”

Mary rolled her eyes and stood. “Yes, Mom.”

“Shane, have you checked on Cyn lately?” Steph asked.

“Yes, but I have a feeling Angie headed that way a few minutes ago.” Shane rubbed the back of his neck. The tension in the room had his shoulders aching, or maybe that was just residuals from the prior night. Either way, he was uncomfortable.

Roseanne came to his side, then smoothed her palm over his shoulder. “What time do you fly out tomorrow?”

He looked up at her. “I’m not.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Oh?”

“You’re not what?” Everyone turned around as Mr. Donnelly entered the kitchen, Mary close behind him. He walked straight to Roseanne and kissed her cheek. “You needed something?”

“Yes. I needed to get Mary out of the room before her siblings took a piece out of her. And then I would’ve had to take a piece out of all of them.” She smiled.

Her husband swung his head around to Mary. “Stirring the pot again, Mary Claire? Keep it up and one of these days you’re going to end up licking the spoon.”

“Daddy!” Mary frowned and resumed her seat at the table.

Shane stifled a laugh, but Joey wasn’t as successful. Their father cast his fatherly glare—the one they all had a healthy fear of as kids—his oldest son’s way, and Joey coughed, getting himself under control. Then Mr. D. focused back on Shane. “Son, you’re not what?”

Shane smiled at the endearment, one he’d always used with him since his own father died. “I’m not leaving tomorrow, Mr. Donnelly.”

“Good. Very good.”

“Shane, please call him Joe. For goodness sake you’re an adult now. Joe, tell him it’s okay.” Roseanne shook her head.

Mr. Donnelly smoothed his hands over his small pot belly. “Absolutely.” He sniffed and with a few long strides moved to the stove.

Roseanne rushed after him. “Stay out of that soup, Joe! It’s not done yet.” He grinned at her, the spoon she was stirring the soup with half way to his lips. “Don’t make me beat you.” She laughed.