by Jane Henry
“I saw you wipe the floor with that bastard in the ring, though,” she says. “You’re a natural fighter, aren’t you?”
I grab a piece of sausage and shove it in my mouth, chewing thoughtfully before I speak.
“So they say,” I finally reply.
“You like fighting?” She’s watching me thoughtfully.
“I do.” I don’t explain why. I’m not sure I could if I tried.
She looks pensive. “I understand.”
“Do you?”
She nods, sipping her tea again. “I bet it makes you feel in control. And… sometimes when you’re… in a situation you couldn’t control… it feels good when you can be.” Her cheeks flush pink. She gives a self-deprecating laugh. “How’s that for armchair psychology?”
I nod. “No, it’s a fair point. I think you’re on to something. But now it’s your turn.”
“Mine?” Her eyes no longer dance, and her grip on the mug tightens.
I tip my head to the side. I want to know everything about her, so we’ll start at the very beginning. “What happened to you? Why did you end up where you did?”
She sighs and looks away. “Do I have to talk about this?”
I think about it before I respond. “Yes, lass. You’ll have to tell me eventually, but it’s alright if you don’t want to tell me now.”
“Not now, Tiernan. Please. I’m still… I’m still fairly raw over everything.”
I glance at my watch, surprised to find I only have five more minutes to get downstairs to the meeting with the brotherhood.
I jump to my feet. “Aye,” I tell her. “Another time. Now, you’ll stay up here while I have a meeting.”
“Can I come?”
I shake my head. “Not this time. I know I’ve been fairly easy with you, Aisling, but remember, lass. You’re still prisoner here.”
Her eyes narrow on me. “Why?”
I stand and give her a stern look. “Isn’t it obvious? Because you witnessed me murder a man, and we won’t have you ruining anything by tattling on us.”
“I won’t say a bloody thing!” she says, getting to her feet.
I take her hand and tug her back to the bed. “You stay here and lower your voice. That very well may be true, but until you’ve proven yourself trustworthy, you’re under my charge.”
She sputters and fumes, her fists clenching together in anger.
“And unless you want a proper punishment when I return, you’ll behave in my absence as well. Understood?”
She crosses her arms on her chest like a petulant child. I’ve half a mind to turn her over my knee before I leave. I shake my head and point my finger at her. “I warned you, lass. Behave.”
She’s out of the bed and following me, angry that I won’t give her any freedom. In two seconds, I’ve got her over my shoulder. I bring my palm down, hard, on her arse, and plop her back on the bed.
“Now then, we’re back here, are we?”
I’ve got her restrained, and I reach for the bedside table. The cuffs haven’t been used since that first night.
“Tiernan,” she says, pleading. “You wouldn’t!”
“I’ve a job to do, lass,” I say sternly. “And I can’t have you getting in the way. If you do anything to jeopardize the safety of the Clan, you won’t like what happens.”
She opens her mouth to protest, then slams it shut again. She eyes the cuffs, and bites her lip, but doesn’t speak. I capture her wrists between my fingers and arrange her arms up over her head, then slide the metal cuffs in place.
“Now, behave yourself and when I return, I’ll unfasten these.”
She isn’t the angry girl I brought here the night before. Instead of the fury and screams, she looks resigned. Almost doleful.
“Thought we had something, you know,” she says in a little voice that wavers as if she’s sad.
Mother of God.
“Had something?”
She blinks back tears. “I thought we… I know it was just sex, but I… well…” Her cheeks flush, and she jerks her chin toward the cuffs around her wrists. “Now it seems we’re right back to square one.”
I stroke my chin, letting my gaze wander over her body. I nod thoughtfully.
“I kept you busy while you were in the throes of withdrawal, Aisling, aye.”
She swallows. I kneel on one knee beside her, and run my finger down the side of her face, gently caressing the soft, supple skin until I get to her mouth. I trace her full lips.
“Doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy it, lass.” I bend down and brush my lips against her cheek. “Doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re stunning. And it sure as hell doesn’t mean that I only used you.”
I frame her body between my hands, bend, and kiss the top of first one breast, then another, when I realize the time. Bloody hell. Tardiness to a meeting’s a major infraction.
“Fuck!”
She jumps. “What?”
“I’m late for a meeting.”
She actually giggles. “Did I distract you that much?”
I wag a finger at her. “You did. Ought to give you a proper punishment for that.” She bites her lips, her eyes shining. “I’ll be back soon.”
I shut the door behind her, and take off at a run.
I make it downstairs just as Cormac does. He gives me a grimace and shakes his head.
“Where the bloody hell were you?”
I grunt. “Tending our prisoner. You?”
He grunts. “Aileen needed me to unravel her bloody necklace. Going shopping with Fiona this afternoon.”
We go to our meeting room right on this floor. Cormac might be given a reprieve as Clan leadership, but I’ll have no such luck.
Everyone looks up when we enter, and Keenan’s gaze goes straight to the clock. We’re both a full ten minutes late.
“You’re late,” he says, his voice harsh and stern.
“Sorry, Keenan,” Cormac says. “Lost track of time, but I found Tiernan on the way.”
The others laugh, but Keenan doesn’t.
“And you,” he says to me next. “What’s your excuse?”
“Negotiations with the prisoner,” I mutter.
Boner snorts, and Tully slaps my back.
“Bollox! Negotiations, my arse—”
Keenan clears his throat, and the room stills. “Enough of that. See to it it doesn’t happen again, Tiernan.”
He turns to a corner of the room. “Father? You’ve news for us?”
I didn’t even notice Father Finn was present.
I swear, every time I see him, he looks older. His hair’s gone totally white, his fairly thin frame even more rail-like than ever.
“Father.” I nod. “Y’alright?”
“Hello there, Tiernan,” he says, his voice high-pitched and reedy. He looks far, far older than he is, the weight of the world resting on his shoulders, no doubt. “I’m good, thanks. Came to discuss your… charge.”
The others would likely give me shite about this, but I don’t much care. If he’s got something to say about Aisling, I want to hear it.
“My sources say the night before the fight, she spent the night with the prime minister’s son, hired out by Vivian.”
Bloody hell. My blood boils, my hands clenched in fists.
“Go on.”
“And from what we’re told, he stole some money from her.”
Seems he must’ve spoken to Vivian or one of her girls.
“Yes?”
“Seems they had a falling out of sorts, which is why he came after her the night of the fight.”
“I see.”
Where’s he going with this?
“So even though no one witnessed what happened, the fact that she’s here will rouse even more suspicions than ever.”
I look to Keenan, but his eyes are on Father Finn.
“Yeah, it would,” I tell him. “Except no one’s supposed to bloody know she’s here.”
“Not as simple as that, I’m afraid.” We all w
atch him. He always has something to say, and it’s never anything helpful, like “here’s fifty thousand quid,” and it’s always something he’s heard or seen. “Her mates have been trying to get in touch, and when they couldn’t they started inquiring. No one knows yet, but Vivian came to me.”
I nod slowly. “And what did you tell her?”
He meets my eyes squarely. “Nothing yet, son, but you’ll have to be careful.”
“Of course.” My voice is tighter than I intend, angry at the very thought of anyone coming between me and Aisling.
Keenan’s eyes come to me. Hell, every man in this room is watching me. Is it that obvious that I’m attached to her already?
I’m on my feet, pacing the room, while Finn says what he needs to.
“You fought that night,” Father Finn says. “You were supposed to have a prize of one of Vivian’s women.”
I bloody well did.
He goes on, while frenetic energy courses through me. I’ll punch the hell out of the bloody punching bag in the basement when all this is over, expend some of this energy.
“Aye. I was.”
“And when they couldn’t find you or her, rumors began.”
“Of course they did.” Christ.
Keenan clears his throat. “We secured Tiernan that night and made sure to spread rumors to avoid suspicion.”
“Right,” Finn says. “And it worked initially, but you have to understand the Prime Minister knows his son was involved with things he shouldn’t have been. You know if he catches wind that the McCarthy Clan is responsible for even harming his son, he’ll see the lot of you put in jail.”
Silence falls over the room with sickening finality. Tully finally breaks the silence.
“Then we’ll do what we have to.”
He’s looking at Keenan, and Father Finn frowns.
“Of course,” Keenan says. “We’ll make sure Tiernan’s safe as well.”
We’ve much to discuss, but we need to do so when Finn and his spying ways are out of the fucking room.
Father Finn gets to his feet. “Be careful, boys,” he says with a sigh. “We’ve had peace here in Ballyhock for years.”
Relative peace, that is, but he doesn’t know the work we’ve done behind the scenes to keep it that way. The last major battle we had involved an infiltration of our guards back when Fiona had just graduated high school. The last time I saw Aisling. It seems like it was bloody ages ago.
Keenan stands and shakes Father Finn’s hand. “We’ll see to it no harm comes to the girl or Tiernan, and that peace reigns in Ballyhock, father.”
Finn shakes his hand back.
“Counting on you, Keenan.”
Keenan puts his arm around Father Finn’s shoulders, guiding him to the exit. “The men and I’ve been talking, Father. Seems the steeple at Holy Family’s in need of repair, is it?”
They continue their discussion as Keenan leads him to the exit. We’re on friendly terms with the residents of Ballyhock because of our generous contributions to the church and our assurance of peace. We keep crime at a minimum, donate to the local school, and have such a reputation with the locals that they never question who we are or what we do.
The Prime Minister, however…
Keenan shuts the door behind Finn and sighs.
“Call Brady,” he says, jerking his chin at Carson, Clan bookkeeper and resident hacker. Brady’s our private investigator. He looks to Cormac next. “Cormac, you’ll call Walsh as well. Get him in here for a private chat, will you?” Local police chief.
Cormac nods. “Aye.”
Then his eyes come to me. “Tiernan, pack a bag. I’m sending you and Aisling to St. Albert’s. Just for now, a few days. We’ll visit at the weekend and update you on all that’s going on, but you’ll be safest there.”
The Clan’s finishing school’s a second home to me. Many of the Clan’s family and friends are employed there, as teachers and staff while raising the younger Clan members before being inducted into our Clan.
It’s a simpler arrangement than here at the mansion, but we’ve had heavy security detail there for bloody ages.
“It’s a veritable fortress,” Keenan says. The mansion is, too, but if anyone comes looking for me or Aisling, the mansion is the first place they’ll go. “I’ll be able to communicate easily with you if you’re there, and you two will be safe. Let’s do the investigation. Your only job is to keep her safe and be sure she doesn’t do anything that puts us in danger.”
I nod. “Aye.”
Keenan looks to Lachlan next. “Bring Fiona here. It’s time the girls reunite.”
Lachlan winces. “You sure about that, sir? They broke off their friendship on rocky terms—”
“See to it they’re reunited,” Keenan orders, firmer this time. “If Aisling has a friend and lover in the Clan, she’ll be more loyal. Especially a girl like her, who has bloody nothing.”
Friend and lover. The words settle over the room, and every goddamn person hears them. All eyes are on me, though it’s Lachlan he’s talking to.
“Aye,” Lachlan says. “I’ll do that.”
Will they forgive each other? I’ve learned over the years that you can force many, many things, but friendship isn’t one of them. My conversation with Fiona earlier today leaves me hopeful, though. And Aisling’s in need of a good friend.
“Tully.”
Tully’s brows shoot up, at attention. “Aye?”
“Secure the bunker.”
Keenan’s last words settle like lead in my belly. He’s sending me away. He’s taking precautions. And he’s preparing for a fucking lockdown.
Chapter 10
I’m sleeping on my friend’s couch, still hungover from the night before. It’s easier to forget things that are painful and hard when you’re dead to the world. I welcome the oblivion.
I sit up when my phone buzzes insistently. One after another. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
I stare at the screen and don’t recognize the number, so I shove it back to the floor. Someone was kind enough to cover me with a blanket. I pull it back over my head. But it’s no use now. The phone rings, and rings, and rings.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
“Would you answer that fucking phone?” I toss the blanket aside to see some guy I don’t know sitting at a barstool by the kitchen counter. He’s got a large cup of something hot and steamy, and he rolls his eyes at me as he takes a sip. “Answer the phone and I might be persuaded to get you some tea.”
I reach for the phone and groan. I hit the “on” button and answer.
“Is this Aisling?”
“Aye. Who the hell is this?”
“Your father’s neighbor, Beatrice.”
I’m almost fucking sober now. “Is everything alright?”
She sighs. “No, love. I’m so sorry, but the police are trying to get in touch with you.”
My heartbeat accelerates, and my mouth goes dry. I swallow with difficulty. “Are you… am I…” I don’t know what I’m saying.
“Last night, the police found your father, love. He was… he shot himself, it seems.”
“Is he alright?”
She pauses. “You’ll have to ask the police,” she says with a sigh. “I don’t know. I found your number on your father’s phone, so I gave you a call.”
“Thank you. I’ll come straight away.”
I hang up the phone, and the anonymous bloke at the counter’s looking at me funny.
“You alright?” he asks.
No. No, of course I’m not alright.
My father’s shot himself.
I don’t know if he’s okay.
We’re not close and haven’t been for years, but at the end of the day, he’s my fucking father.
“Fine,” I lie. I shove the blanket off, thankful I’m still clothed. There are other mornings I wake and can’t say the same. I pull my mobile out again, and search for a cab ride.
“Where to, miss?”
I tell him my address, the pl
ace I once called home.
Aisling
With a belly full of food and the memory of what Tiernan’s done to me the past few days, I actually fall asleep with my wrists secured in cuffs. Not sure I could sleep for hours like this, but closing my eyes for a wee bit is better than staring at the bloody wall.
I’m dreaming when I hear the door squeak on its hinges, and my eyes fly open. I blink. Where was I in my sleep? The voice of someone I once knew still echoes in my mind when the door to the bedroom swings open, and Tiernan enters.
I like being bloody sober.
There’s a small part of me that misses the high of a hit, and the withdrawal symptoms linger, but they fade with each minute that passes. Whatever Sebastian gave me to help has done its magic, and Tiernan’s… attention… has definitely helped as well.
I let my gaze roam over him while he enters the room. When I was younger, I’d crushed on him a bit. My best friend’s older brother, he was… well, he was bloody hot, all strong and muscled and bossy. I told myself he wasn’t my type. I spent enough time with Fiona to know the men of the Clan are bossy and possessive, and really fucking overprotective.
But deep inside me, if I’m honest… I liked that, too.
I fantasized about meeting a man of the Clan when I was younger, but that was the stuff of fantasies. I even asked Fiona to set me up on a blind date, but I was only half-joking. In my logical mind, I didn’t want to be with a caveman like a McCarthy. I knew that Lachlan kept a close eye on Fiona, and even though a small part of me craved that—the undivided attention and devotion of a man who’d put me on a pedestal and treat me like a queen—I didn’t want to be under a man’s thumb.
And Tiernan was not only my best friend’s brother, but a man of the Clan, every bit as stern and unyielding as any of them. That wasn’t what kept me apart from him, though, not really. He didn’t see me as a woman, but a child, and I knew it. I was his younger sister’s little mate, and he’d just as soon pat me on the head and give me a lolly as he would look at me.
I couldn’t stand it. And when Fiona and I had our falling out… well, I’d just as soon cut off my right arm as I’d spend a moment with a man of the Clan. Way too fucking close to home for comfort.
But now… I don’t have much of a choice.
