by Jane Henry
“What is it?” I ask him. It’s nothing unusual for ships to come this early in the morning, not with the vast quantities of imports and exports here.
He shakes his head, “Nothing.”
But it isn’t nothing. “That isn’t true, Carson. You can’t lie to me.” I feel a pang of remorse. I’m not lying to him, I tell myself. I just haven’t told him the whole truth. And that’s different… isn’t it?
I wonder if good, sweet Caitlin would agree, or Maeve.
“Those cargo ships aren’t due until this evening,” he says, but as soon as he says it, he looks as if he wishes he hadn’t. “But it’s nothing. Sometimes shipments shift is all,” he says with a shake of his head.
I don’t respond but give him a curious look, and he quickly changes the subject.
“Now, lass, time to go to the shooting range. Maeve said she’ll handle Breena and the first interviews with the nannies, and I’ll get the rest later. I cleared some time for us. This is important.”
Excitement races through me at what we’re about to do. “You talked to Keenan?” I don’t much care if Keenan gets mad at me, but I hate to think of Carson getting into trouble.
“Aye, and he said have at it.” We leave Breena with Maeve and head to the car.
He pulls up to a private shooting range where the men of the Clan go and shows me around. It’s like a high-end warehouse, sound-proof and neatly sectioned off so people can practice. He hands me a pair of protective headphones and a gun.
“Put the headphones on?”
“Earmuffs,” he corrects. Okay then.
“Careful,” he says. “It’s loaded. And we need to go over safety precautions first.” Aye, of course we do.
He walks around in front to talk to me, to make sure I hear him I suppose.
“Always, always treat a firearm as if it were loaded,” he says, his stern eyes boring into mine. “Understood, lass?”
I nod. “Aye.”
“And what if you know it’s empty?”
I shrug. “Well, I suppose then…”
“No,” he says patiently. “Even then, Megan. You treat it as if it were loaded. Do you have any idea how many lives are lost every year because someone thinks they’re handling an empty weapon, hmm?”
I swallow. “Loads, I reckon.”
“Aye. So that’s rule number one.”
“Will there be a test later?”
“You bet your arse there will be.” He’s dead serious. I love it.
“Rule number two,” he says, standing with his arms crossed on his chest, his stern eyes unwavering. “Always keep your trigger finger off the trigger and outside the trigger guard until you’re damned ready to shoot. Keep your hands any fucking place but on the trigger until then. Got it?”
I nod and give him a little salute.
He nods back. “Good girl. Next. Rule number three. Always keep your weapon pointed at a safe target, a place that would cause minimal damage to humans or property if accidentally discharged.”
“Ooohhh, so this is why in the movies you always see people pointing at ceilings?”
For the first time since we came in here, his lips quirk upward. “Aye, precisely.”
“And not,” I say with mock innocence. “At your bollox?”
He cringes. “Right, lass,” he says with a chuckle. “Or at your arse.”
“Pretty sure I have a target on my arse, the way you’re always—”
“Alright, now, Megan,” he interrupts. “Last rule.”
I nod seriously. “Right, then. Last rule.”
“Always be sure of your target and what’s beyond it. You could shoot at an assailant with a friend behind him and kill both of them dead.”
I shudder. “Oh, God.”
“Oh, God is right, and you’d be calling his name if you didn’t aim correctly.”
I wince.
“Now, lass. Let’s get to business.”
He positions himself behind me, just like I imagined he would, his voice so silky in my ear, I shiver. Like his intelligence, there’s something strangely appealing to his dedication to safety, to making sure I’m cared for, even if it means teaching me self-defense.
We shoot for an hour or more and I was right. It’s every bit as intimate and hot as I imagined. His warm, solid body behind me, helping me stand in position. The way his hand lingers on my inner thigh when he shows me to widen my stance. His large, rough hands, arranging my fingers over the cold metal. Even the powerful feeling that pulses through me when I finally pull the trigger.
“God, you’re a good shot,” he says with a smile, and his praise thrills me.
“Well, I am related to the McCarthy Clan,” I tell him with a grin.
“Damn right y’are.” He pulls me to him for a quick kiss before helping me into the car.
We get back to the mansion just as a car pulls up. I can’t see who’s in the car because of the tinted windows, but when it comes to a stop, the door swings open, and Sheena and Nolan emerge. Maeve walks out with Breena.
“Why, hello, honeymooners!” I say. “Fancy meeting you here. You home, then?”
“Aye,” Nolan says. “Only a short trip. Sheena says she’d rather a bunch of short trips than one long one.”
She winks at me. “Helps us keep an eye on the children and gives me something to look forward to.”
It’s not lost on me how Nolan looks from Carson to me, and his gaze meets mine. His jaw hardens ever so slightly. Nolan will want to be brought up to speed later today.
Carson helps them with their bags, then runs ahead after Breena when she chases a butterfly by the garden. Nolan falls back to talk to me.
“You alright, cousin?”
I nod. “Aye.” I’m better than alright, but there’s no need for him to know that. “You?”
“Couldn’t be better,” he says. “And you’ll be the first to know.”
I feel my brows raise heavenward. He looks with shining eyes toward Sheena. “She’s expecting.”
“Oh, excellent,” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck and squeezing. “Congratulations!” It’s been amazing to see Nolan come into his own as father-figure to Sheena’s siblings, but to think of him with a child of his own warms my heart.
“Shh,” he says. “You’re the first to know, so don’t tell anyone yet. I want to tell mam myself.”
“Of course,” I tell him. I open my mouth to talk about dates and times and what he thinks they’ll have, but he beats me to it.
“And what’s gone on with you and Carson? It’s only been a few days, but I can tell I’ve missed a few things.” His tone is harder than I’m used to, but I’m not surprised. I suspected he’d react this way.
“Ah, nothing,” I start to say, waving my hand at him, but it feels like a sort of betrayal. I take in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Well, that isn’t quite true.” My mind goes to the night of passion, my wrists shackled in his firm grip, his mouth between my legs, and a flush creeps up my neck. I decide to start at the beginning.
I tell him about meeting in the graveyard, about the wedding, how we hit it off. And then, with great reluctance, I plow on. I tell him about the day in Stone City and how he killed a man.
“Bloody hell,” he curses, kicking a rock on the ground in front of him. “Keenan texted, said there was a casualty on O’Gregor territory but didn’t tell me any details because I was on my feckin’ honeymoon.”
“Aye,” I say with a sigh. “Well after that, Keenan saw fit to put Carson on watch over me.”
Nolan quirks a brow. “Did he, now?”
I clear my throat and lift my head up. “Mhm. And… well… we’ve gotten to know each other a bit is all.”
Nolan doesn’t speak at first. “I’m the last one who’ll want anything but the best for you, Megan. You know that, lass, don’t you?”
A lump forms in my throat, and I swallow against the rising tide of emotion. He is, and God don’t I love him for it.
“Of cours
e,” I say, my voice a bit hoarse.
“But please, be careful, is all I have to say.” He sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets as he watches Carson, far ahead of us now, going up the stone steps to the mansion. “I love Carson as if he were my very flesh and blood, I do,” he says. “And he’s as good as they come. But I wonder sometimes if he isn’t broken a little, after losing Eve. You know?”
I nod. I do know.
“Is it wrong of me to hope I’m the one that can heal that bit of broken?” I ask, all pretense gone in the raw, bald truth. We pause, not following them up to the mansion anymore.
Nolan sighs. “It’s never wrong to hope, Megan. But I’m afraid Carson needs more than the love of a good woman to bring whatever healing he needs.” His smile is sad and wistful. “That said, I hope to fucking God you prove me wrong.”
“Nolan!” Sheena waves from the top stair at the entrance. “You coming?”
“Aye,” he shouts up. “On my way.”
He smiles at me. “Just be careful is all,” he says. “Have you seen Keenan? Need a meeting with him and Cormac to go over the shipments coming in later.”
I know they work in arms dealing, though I intentionally try to be ignorant of the rest.
“Oh, Carson and I took a walk by the docks today, and he was surprised the shipments came in earlier than expected.”
Nolan looks at me in confusion. “This morning? No, we aren’t getting any shipments this morning. Ours are due later in the week. Only O’Gregors have port authority today.” He trots up the stairs toward Sheena. I stand in place for a moment, bewildered.
Why did Carson say theirs were due this evening? Was he talking about the O’Gregors, then?
Why would Carson be concerned about anything dealing with the O’Gregors?
Should that concern me?
He was just making an observation, I tell myself. For goodness sakes, there’s no use seeing ghosts where there are none. If he had something to hide, he wouldn’t have said anything in front of me.
Would he?
I’m all alone when I enter the dining room, but the room is teeming with people who’ve come to brunch. Lachlan and Fiona, as well as Fiona’s brother Tiernan and Boner, sit at a table in the far corner. Fiona’s speaking animatedly to Lachlan, her hands waving in the air, but Lachlan, bless him, does not look amused. Tiernan watches both of them quietly, digging into a large plate of eggs and sausages.
Keenan and Caitlin’s family sit at the large table, as do Cormac and Aileen. Carson’s just come in ahead of me, and when Breena sees Aunt Maeve, she makes a run for it. Maeve turns to catch her, her eyes filled with adoration as she picks the little girl up and fairly tosses her into the air.
“How’s my little princess, this morning?” she asks. “Ah, who did the wee braids? Did daddy?” She looks in surprise at Carson. He shakes his head no.
“Megan did.”
A few eyes come to me as I enter, but I feel Nolan and Keenan’s most powerfully. I can almost hear them thinking. Why was Megan with Breena so early in the morning? None of them are fools.
“They look lovely,” Maeve says, though even her look grows a bit distant. Am I imagining things? How odd.
“Thank you. She’s got the prettiest curls.”
The girls talk about their daughters, and their hair, and their own, and they’re going on and on as I walk back to the buffet line. We ate a good breakfast earlier, but I will literally never turn down a freshly baked house scone.
“Morning, Megan.”
Tully comes up beside me. He’s swiping at his phone with his large fingers.
“Morning,” I tell him. “Ah, so Carson’s fixed it already, has he?”
Tully looks at me in confusion. “Come again?”
“Wasn’t Carson fixing your phone?”
Am I going fucking mental? Should I be keeping my bloody mouth shut?
Tully shakes his head. “No, didn’t need his help with my phone. If I did, he’d be the first I’d ask, though. Feckin’ tech god, that man is.” Tully shoves his phone in his pocket before he loads a plate with eggs, scones, and fruit, and heads over to sit beside Lachlan.
Something cold rises in my chest, and my belly feels queasy. I stare at the scone on my plate I was salivating for only a moment ago, and my appetite’s gone.
Is he lying to me?
And if so, why would he lie about such trivial things as a broken phone? It doesn’t make sense to me, not at all.
I look up to see Carson beckoning me to come to him. Why is it that just an hour ago, everything felt right? So good and wholesome? And now, I’m questioning literally everything. I don’t even know if I want to sit with him right now, so I shake my head at him. When Aileen beckons to me, I go to her and slide in a seat beside her. I can feel Carson’s eyes on me, feel the heat of his gaze.
He’s an alpha male with a decidedly stern streak, and I wonder how he’ll react when he knows I’ve ignored him on purpose.
I chatter eagerly to Aileen about the book that she’s reading and the Clan birthdays we have coming up. There’s so many of us, we overlap months and even dates, so we often just celebrate all at once.
“Sounds lovely,” I say to her. “At the weekend, you say?”
“Aye,” she says with a smile.
I feel him come up behind me, feel his warmth before I see him. His mouth comes to my ear.
“Meeting room,” he says. “Now.”
Chapter 13
Carson
I don’t know what I’m bloody playing at. I don’t what she is.
I’m in a room with the members of my Clan, the brotherhood, and I can’t speak freely here. I gestured for her to come, and she ignored me.
Something isn’t right. Just this morning, it felt so natural being with her, and then again at the shooting range. I finally feel myself opening up for the first time since Eve died. Willing to maybe even love again.
But now… now she won’t even meet my eyes. And instead of the wide-eyed look she gives me when I give an instruction, she doesn’t look my way when I ask her to go to the meeting room. I want to talk to her.
With her belly-down over my knees.
Keenan clears his throat. “I need to see all men of the Clan in the meeting room after breakfast,” he says. “All who are present.”
We sit up straighter, and nod, murmurs of “yes, sir,” and “aye,” going up in the room. The women follow, taking the children down from highchairs and stools, chattering together. They’re planning a big celebration of sorts, some kind of birthday catch-all.
I try to meet Megan’s eyes, but she won’t look my way. I pull out my phone and shoot her a quick text.
We’ll have to postpone our talk, since Keenan’s called a meeting. Talk later today?
But if she sees the text, she doesn’t respond.
I take a step over to her, but Boner and Lachlan are blocking my way.
“Something’s come of the man murdered in Stone City,” Lachlan says gravely. “Father Finn came by this morning. He’ll join us today.”
Bloody hell.
“Aye,” Boner says. “I heard chatter at the Craic last night as well.”
Bloody hell.
I only nod, turn away from Megan, and go with them. I’ll have to deal with whatever’s going on with her later. When the men of the Clan call, I answer, and there’s no use fighting it.
We head to the meeting room. Behind us, the staff clears tables and dishes, china and glass clinking. Maeve takes Breena, and I go with my brothers.
We assemble in the private space. Keenan at the desk and Cormac to his right, Nolan to his left, the three McCarthy brothers in our lead. Boner beside Lachlan, and Tully alone to the right. I take the only vacant seat left.
Keenan wastes no time. “Father Finn came to me,” he begins. “Seems there was indeed a connection in Stone City to the man who was killed most recently.”
I sigh. “You mean the one I murdered,” I say to Keenan. “Don’t pull
the punch, Keenan.”
“Aye,” Keenan says with a sigh. “The same.”
“What’s the story, brother?” Nolan asks. His arms are across his chest, and he looks more serious than usual. He hasn’t looked my way.
“Seems the man we thought homeless was, indeed, not directly connected to the O’Gregors. Certainly no kin.”
I nod. Keenan continues. “But he was a spy for them. He was unassuming, the quietest. No one thinks a homeless man is a danger, you see. He was paid by the O’Gregors to keep tabs on Stone City. He reported everything, and word was he was paid well for it.”
“Paid well?” Lachlan asks. “And yet he was still homeless? Explain that to me.”
“Drugs, Lach,” Cormac says. “The O’Gregors had him exactly where they wanted him. He informed them, they paid him. He put the money right back in their pockets and invested in their signature opiates. Best possible arrangement for them, isn’t it? They lost absolutely nothing but their time.”
“Right,” I say, my stomach sinking. “Which means they’re not too happy about losing their free informant.”
“Correct.”
“Do they know who’s responsible?” Nolan asks.
“Appears so,” Keenan says. “As of last night, based on what Boner heard at the Craic.”
Boner stands up, bouncing on his feet like a Jack-in-the-box.
“Aye,” he says. “They let it drop that the McCarthys would pay, that they were retaliating. They wanted me to overhear. Said it a few times when I was in ear shot. I tell ya, took everything I feckin’ had not to cut them, right then and there.”
“Of course,” Tully says gruffly.
“Any word on how or why?” I ask.
Boner shakes his head. “Nah. Seems they wanted us sweating it.”
Cormac snorts. “The day I sweat in fear of the O’Gregors is the day I cut off my own fucking bollox.”
“Same,” Nolan says. “With the O’Gregors, we don’t lie in wait. We act proactively.”
“Agreed,” Keenan says. “I’m right there with you, brother. Only, I don’t want to bring war here. We’ve too much to risk now. These aren’t like the days when we were only brothers here. We’ve families as well.”
