by Jane Henry
“So wet for me already, lass?” he asks in a husky voice. “Are you my good girl who needs to come?”
He parts my legs and gently touches me. My hips convulse at the gentlest touch, and I whimper against the makeshift gag.
“You make me crazy, Fiona,” he says in a low whisper. “I can’t get you out of my mind.” He drags his knuckles across my breasts. My nipples harden in response. “You’re so utterly fucking perfect.”
As if to emphasize his words, he grasps my nipple between his teeth. My back arches and my pulse races. I yelp against the gag at the feel of his sharp teeth, but a second later he laves my hardened peak with the flat of his tongue, and my body melts. It seems every nerve is on fire, every muscle taut. I want to beg him but I can’t.
He cups my pussy as he suckles my breasts, then he lowers his fingers between my legs. I convulse around him, I’m so eager for pressure, and his low, dark chuckle of pleasure makes me crazy.
“Do you need to come, sweet girl?” he whispers in my ear. I feel his body pressed up against mine, his hard length against my side.
I nod my head and try to reach for him, but my wrists strain tightly against my bonds. I nod again until I’m dizzy. I think he likes torturing me. A gentle touch of his fingers, then a sweep of his tongue, a pinch between my legs, then a stroke of perfect pleasure, until my hips buck and I ride his fingers as my body spasms with pleasure. I’m whimpering and lost, my world dark but my body so light I could fly.
I want to pleasure him as he does me, but just when I collapse, exhausted from the pleasure that consumed me, his phone rings. He draws away from me with a groan and takes off my blindfold. I blink, my eyes adjusting to the brightness in the room.
“You stay right there,” he orders. Not sure how I’d get away if I wanted to.
“What?” Lachlan glares at me, and it takes me a moment to realize it isn’t me he’s angry with, but whatever he’s hearing on the phone. “Jesus, Keenan. Right. Yes, of course. Let me know.”
He hangs up the phone a moment later and shoves it in his pocket. “Maeve’s been taken to the hospital.” He stabs his fingers through his dark hair. It’s gotten a little longish. “And Sheena’s been trying to reach you. Supposedly you sent her a message?”
He removes the makeshift gag. I shake my head.
“I haven’t texted her since yesterday,” I say with a frown. “What the hell?”
“The arsehole that took your phone did it, then. Wonder who else they contacted, pretending to be you?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “My God.”
Are they everywhere?
“You need to call Sheena,” he says. He hands me his phone.
He doesn’t meet my eyes. “Everything okay?”
“Call her.”
With a frown, I do what he says.
“It’s me,” I tell her when she answers. “I’m using Lachlan’s phone because mine was stolen.”
“Stolen? So, you didn’t send me those messages?”
“No.” Her voice is strained. Is she crying? “Are you okay?”
She sighs. “I thought it was you that sent me the message. You said something about regretting going to America and that you wanted to… to end things.”
“Oh, God.”
Lachlan must hear the panic in my voice, for he sits beside me and holds my hand. I want to sit in his lap and feel his arms around me.
“I would never, Sheena, I promise.”
I can hear her intake of breath. “I know that now,” she says with a sniffle. “Thank God you’re okay. Thank God he’s with you.”
I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve heard Sheena cry.
“Is there anything else that’s wrong?” I ask. She breaks into fresh tears, and a second later, Nolan gets on the phone.
“Hello, sweetheart. Nolan here.” I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Thank God you’re okay.”
“I’m fine,” I tell him. “I’m right here with Lachlan.” Stark naked and coming down from an orgasm, I think. But fine.
He sighs. “Glad to hear it. We were worried, but Lachlan assured us he has you well taken care of.”
That he does.
“Sheena’s a bit under the weather,” he says.
“Nolan, what is it?”
He sighs again. “She lost the baby, lass.”
I close my eyes with a rush of sudden emotion, and my throat clogs. “No,” I whisper. “Oh, Nolan. I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks, sweetheart. She’ll be alright. In good health, just reeling from the loss is all. We’ll take good care of her. You let Lachlan take care of you. He’ll be sure to find whoever’s threatening you.”
“He will. And thank you.”
I hang up the phone and draw my knees to my chest. Lachlan holds me tighter.
“You okay?”
I shake my head.
“I want to go home.”
Chapter 16
Lachlan
I hold her as she cries, and I wonder what we’re even doing here. We belong back in Ballyhock, with the Clan, my brothers, our family. I want to put a ring on her finger and my baby in her. I want to end each night and begin each day with a kiss from her. I want more than my own two hands to protect her. I want the Clan fortress around her.
My phone rings, and I look at it a second time.
I answer on the second ring.
“Lachlan, Calum here. Need to speak to you.”
“Aye?”
“Think we’ve found some news.”
“Have you?”
“Yes, but it’s more complicated than we thought.”
I listen as he explains the lengths his men went to find what they have.
“Seems the betrayal and retaliation run deeper than we thought,” he says. “Fucking years. All the way back to when Seamus McCarthy took Maeve as his wife.”
“Christ. Are you serious?” I never thought for a minute that Maeve and Seamus, the McCarthy Clan matriarch and patriarch, would have had anything to do with a vendetta in Boston.
“Seems one of our rivals thinks he’s rightfully due a portion of the McCarthy Clan wealth.”
“What? That’s ridiculous.”
“Aye,” he says. “What do you know about Keenan’s wife?”
“Keenan’s wife? Caitlin?”
“Aye.”
“Not much,” I confess. “I know she was the lighthouse keeper’s daughter.” Then memory floods me and I’m on my feet, shaking my head. From the corner of my eye, I see Fiona covering herself with a sheet, her eyes distant and troubled. “But wait. He wasn’t her father, was he? Her father was from Boston.”
“Ah, then,” Calum says. “Her father was from Boston. She belongs to Keenan now that she’s wed him, but the ties to Boston are undeniable. The Irish lighthouse keeper raised her, but she wasn’t his kin, was she?”
I shake my head. “She wasn’t.”
“Her mother fucked Jay Byrne, one of our rivals. She took off when she found out she was pregnant, went back to Ireland, and had the baby. The bloke’s fucking off his nut,” Calum says. “Senile in his old age. He’s been trailing the McCarthys for fucking ages, has affiliations with the Martins and O’Gregors. Thinks because his daughter married McCarthy stock, the McCarthys have stolen from him.”
Christ. I have to talk to Keenan.
“And what does he plan to do about that?”
“No fucking idea, lad,” Calum says. “But I know this. You and Tiernan aren’t enough here. He’s got more on his payroll than you’ve bargained for.”
“Thank you,” I tell him, and hang up the phone. Christ. He’s right. This is far too big for me and Tiernan. I look at Fiona.
“We have to go home is right,” I tell her. “I’m sorry about your classes.”
“They’re shite,” she says, her chin jutting into the air. “Could do just as well at home.”
They’re not, but I know she’s brushing them off to justify returning home.
> “Get dressed,” I tell her. “I need to talk to Tiernan, and we need to make arrangements. You sure you’re okay with leaving Aisling?”
“I’ve no choice, do I?” she says. She still won’t really meet my eyes, and I wonder what’s going on. I know she’s devastated by the news from home. Is there something else going on?
Tiernan messages me, and tells me to meet him in the lobby. We get ready to leave, packing up our things like nomads. God, I long to be home, back on the streets of Ballyhock. I want to be home again, and this time, I want her with me.
Can I keep her safe? How can I, when Calum himself says there aren’t enough of us here to protect her?
“Fiona…” my voice trails off. She won’t talk to me. Won’t speak at all. I ask her questions and get mumbled, one-word answers. I let it go for now. We need to meet with Tiernan, need to make sure everyone’s safe.
We pack our things and go to the lobby. She goes straight to Tiernan and tells him about Sheena. Still, she won’t look at me.
“When do you go?” he asks, his face pained after talking to him about his sister.
“Need to go soon, don’t we?” I say. “Jesus, I hate to leave you like this, brother.”
He shakes his head. “I’ve one sister in Ballyhock that needs the other. Don’t think of me at a time like this. It’s the right decision, Lach.”
She still won’t look at me, and I don’t know if it’s my imagination, but when I reach for her hand she turns away. What’s going on with her? Is she pulling away from me? And if she is, why?
“I’ll have Aisling pack up my things,” she says in a distant voice.
“Fiona.”
“Aye?” Her gaze is over my shoulder.
“Look at me, love.”
She reluctantly obeys. But I don’t see the woman I’ve come to know, the woman I love. I see the broken girl I met in the dilapidated kitchen in Stone City five years ago. I reach for her, but she pulls away.
“Don’t, Lachlan. Don’t.”
“Why won’t you look at me?” I want to shake her until her teeth rattle. She’s everything to me, but she won’t even look my way.
“I don’t know,” she whispers. “I can’t explain it. But it seems everything I’ve feared is beginning to happen. And I don’t want… literally everything to vanish.”
I tried to let her go. I tried to let her find her way, to chase her dreams, and now I’m dragging her back to Ballyhock. I can’t help but blame myself for this.
I know that I’m to blame. I bloody know it.
“Don’t talk right now, Lach, please,” she whispers, but I don’t care. My only job right now is to protect her. Get her home. See to her safety and return to her family. I sigh. Where she belongs.
Chapter 17
Fiona
I feel like a complete fool and a total arse.
Lachlan came all the way from Ballyhock to me, to see to my safety and wellbeing. And now, I can barely stand to look at him.
What I can’t explain is that it isn’t him that’s to blame. It’s me.
I’ve suspected that I’m broken, that a part of me doesn’t work the way it’s meant to. And these past few days with Lachlan have confirmed just that.
He loves me, and I love him, but I’ll always be that broken girl from Stone City.
Can I really be whole again?
My poor sister’s mourning a devastating loss, and I’m here in Boston. I came this far to find myself and lost a part of myself along the way.
I’ve ruined everything. He deserves someone whole, unlike me. Someone who won’t hold him back with her endless doubts and fears. Someone older… more mature than I am.
I wish I had my phone. I wish I could talk to Megan.
Lachlan’s own cold resolve confirms my decision to pull back. To give him space. There’s a hard set about his jaw, and his eyes are dark and brooding. I want to ask him what’s wrong, but that would show that I care.
He asked me to trust him. Hell, I do. He hasn’t done anything but earn that trust. I’ll be forever grateful for everything he’s done for me.
I’ll never forget the triumphant look on his face when Calum pulled the trigger and killed my assailant, nor the way Tiernan was ready to shed blood just as easily. I love my brother and Lachlan, but they are ruthless killers. Joining myself to Lachlan only pulls me further in. I may never resurface. I sigh. I thought I’d made my peace with this.
Why do the wounds of my youth resurface now? Will I ever make my peace?
My heart is heavy. I’m submerged in a well of sadness I can’t escape. I watch as he makes plans for us to go home, to return to Ballyhock. I go along with him, unable to give voice to what I fear, what’s consuming me right now. I can tell my own reticence right now hurts him, and he’s responding with anger of his own.
“Right then,” he finally says. “We’re leaving in an hour.”
I feel like an utter failure. I got a scholarship here, came all the way to Boston to make something of myself, and I’m going home with my tail between my legs. Home to what? I can’t move back in with Sheena and Nolan. I can’t give myself fully to Lachlan, and that knowledge makes my heart grow heavy with dread.
Why can’t I? What’s so wrong with me that I can’t be who he needs me to be?
“Stay by my side,” he says tersely. “You hear me?”
“Of course I hear you,” I snap.
He’s got several large parcels in his arms, the few things I want to bring back home with me right away.
“What the hell is going on with you?”
I’m hurting, I want to tell him. There’s an ache deep inside me.
But I can’t give voice to those feelings. I don’t want him to think I’m any more broken than I am. So, I only shrug. “Hard to leave when I had hopes of staying,” I finally tell him. “It’s nothing personal.”
It’s utterly fucking personal.
He opens his mouth to speak and then closes it and shakes his head as if second guessing himself.
“What?”
“Get in the car,” he snaps, jerking his head at the waiting car.
“Fuck you,” I mutter under my breath.
I want to cry, because I don’t even know what’s caused this rift between us. It seems like only minutes ago he was bringing me to climax, holding me to his chest, our heartbeats syncing with our hopes and dreams. And now I feel like there’s a wedge between us.
“Where are we going?” I ask him, and as soon as I do, I realize how metaphorical my question sounds.
Where are we going?
Where do we go from here?
“Runway. We’ll take a private jet home.”
He took a private jet here to come get me. I shouldn’t be surprised that’s how we’re getting home.
“Great. So it’ll just be the two of us for hours?”
“The two of us, the flight crew, and the pilot.”
“Just fucking great,” I mutter. I turn away from him, hoping to make him pull away even further, even though it kills me, but apparently, he’ll have none of it. I feel his hand on my arm, tight and warm, and my heart seizes. I turn to him.
“What is it?” I whisper. “What do you want from me?”
“Your bloody fucking honesty,” he says through gritted teeth. “What happened, Fiona?”
I don’t answer him.
“What are you afraid of?” he persists.
How can I tell him it’s everything? Giving myself completely to the Clan and their brutal, unapologetic ways. Men of the Clan claim for life.
All in means shared children with this man—my heart aches—this man I love so much. All in means sending him off to battle, knowing his allegiance is to the men of the Clan above all else. All in means heartache and loss. All in means he’s joined to me… and won’t ever be able to pursue anyone better.
“I’m not afraid,” I lie. “I just… things are moving very quickly.”
I can do this. I can fucking do this.
; His eyes narrow on me. “Of course they are. I fucking claimed you.” He shook his head. “I knew this would happen.”
“What?” I snap. I can’t handle the condescending tone. He knew I was too young for this? He knew once we were together that I’d regret it? “What are you, a fucking mind reader?”
A muscle ticks in his jaw. “I knew it was too soon. I knew I should’ve let you go to college, and do your thing. Claiming you this early when you’re not ready… it’s a huge fucking mistake.”
And for some reason, that makes me snap. Snap. The change is so sudden and vivid, it’s like I can almost hear the twang of my heartstrings.
Snap.
Snap.
Snap.
“Fuck. You.”
He glares when our car comes to a stop, but he doesn’t say a word. I reach for my bags, but he plucks them out of my hand in silence. I fume, trying to carry something, but he takes every last bag and jerks his chin toward the jet.
“Go.”
My fists are clenched into balls of fury, but I don’t talk to him. I stalk away from him and let him carry the fucking bags.
I come to a quick halt when I enter the cabin, my eyes going wide. This is like nothing I’ve ever seen before.
Padded ivory chairs with golden accents, a plush carpet, and bright overhead lighting give way to a full table and chairs, like an in-air dinette, and behind that, a full bedroom with one large, mammoth bed.
Great. There is literally nowhere to hide from him up here. It’s luxury at its finest, and I can’t imagine what the McCarthys have paid for such an extravagance. It’s yet another reminder of how I don’t belong.
I plop into one of the seats to the far left, and after he’s secured our bags, it doesn’t surprise me at all when he sits his arse down right next to me. He doesn’t speak, though, but pulls out a magazine, crosses one ankle over his knee, and begins to read.
Good. He’s ignoring me, other than the fact that we’re so close the little hairs on my arm stand on end when he releases a breath. Two can play at this game.
