by Henry, Jane
“Who sent you here?” I ask, my question meant to sound benign, but laced with meaning. The man with the seeder smiles.
“Malachy, of course.”
“Is that right?” Lachlan asks. His hands come out of his pockets. “Then why does he say he didn’t?”
They pull their weapons, but they’re slower than we are. In half a second, Lach’s got his gun at the temple of the one closest to him, and I’ve got the second.
“Who are you?”
“Tully, watch out!” Tiernan shouts, when someone else flies out of the truck beside us and attacks. I drop to the ground, bringing him with me, roll, hear the explosion of a gunshot. He takes off.
I wrestle him to the ground, pivot, and shoot the second assailant in the kneecap. He howls, gripping his knee, and screams with pain.
“Tiernan, secure the students!” I yell to him. Lachlan’s got the other man in a headlock, but he still holds his weapon in his hand. He flings his wrist, pulls the trigger, and a woman’s high-pitched scream rents the air.
Faidha.
Lachlan raises his hand and pistol whips the man unconscious, as Tiernan shouts for help.
“She’s shot! She’s bloody shot!”
Jesus.
Lachlan and I quickly secure the men in the back of the truck, using our belts and rope we find tied around equipment.
“Got to see if Faidha’s okay,” Lachlan says. “I’ll alert Sebastian we’re bringing her in. One fucking got away.”
I have to get to McKenna.
We exit the vehicle to find Malachy in the doorway of the dining hall, his face a mask of fury. The guards swarm the hall, and Tiernan’s on the ground beside Faidha.
“I’m fine, Tiernan,” she says, shaking her head. “Bloody nicked my arm is all.” He’s got his own shirt wrapped around her arm. “One got away, boys.”
Bloody hell.
Lachlan kneels on one knee beside her and takes a look. “She’s right, Tiernan. She’ll be fine.”
His eyes are narrowed and furious. “Tell Keenan I’ll help with the bloody interrogation.”
We’ll give him that.
I go to Malachy. “They’re secured in the truck. Not sure who they are but we’re bringing them back for interrogation.”
He nods. “Of course. Is Faidha alright?”
“She’s fine, superficial wound that’ll need attention is all.”
“And McKenna?”
“I’m getting her now.”
I take off at a run. I won’t rest assured that she’s all right until I see her with my own eyes, feel her with my own hands. This was too fucking close for comfort.
There’s no one outside her door.
I look everywhere for her guards, and finally see a few standing paces away from the main entrance.
“I told you to watch her!”
“We did, sir, no one’s entered the building.”
“But you didn’t stay inside the fucking classroom! Someone could’ve entered from outside.”
I tear open the door to her room, and my heart nearly stops when I hear the sound of her crying.
If anyone hurt her… my God, if anyone hurt her—
I wrench the door to the cloakroom open. She’s huddled on the floor, clutching her belly. My heart stutters to a halt at the sight of blood.
“McKenna!”
She lifts her tear-stained face to mine. There’s no evidence of an injury, no assailant that came in. Then why is she bleeding?
“Tully,” she says, her face awash in tears, contorted in pain. “It’s the baby.”
I don’t remember the last time I felt fear. I forgot that it feels like your limbs are frozen in ice, but your nerves are on fire. I’ve interrogated, punished, tortured, and killed. I’ve been beaten and bloodied, threatened and attacked. I’ve seen men I love like my very own flesh and blood murdered before my very eyes. But nothing… nothing’s prepared me for this.
I open my mouth to speak, but I can’t form words. I know she needs me, though, when her plaintive, tear-stained face lifts and she whispers, “Help me, Tully.”
I move like a man possessed, my body moving of its own accord.
Somehow, I put the gun away. I kneel and lift her into my arms, nauseated by the sight of blood. Never in my life has blood made me sick, but never have I seen the blood of the woman I love.
I bend and lift her into my arms, holding her to me so as I carry her out of the building. Her head is buried on my chest, and she’s crying quietly.
“Wrenching pain,” she whispers. “The worst cramps I’ve ever had, and I knew, I just knew….”
“Did anyone hurt you?”
She shakes her head. “No one came in the room. I was fine, until…” her voice trails off, and her arms around my neck tighten.
Lachlan drives us back. Tiernan drives the truck back with the men we captured and Faidha. She’s mercifully fine, secured in the passenger seat with a bandage around her arm.
When we arrive home, Faidha’s whisked away to the infirmary to see Sebastian. Tiernan and Lachlan attend to our prisoners, and I call Maeve.
“Tully? Is everything alright?”
“No, Maeve. I need your help. It’s McKenna.”
“What is it?” she asks, concern etched in her features.
I swallow hard. My voice is hoarse, not my own. “The baby, Maeve.”
She knows the instant she sees McKenna. She covers her mouth, and her eyes fill with tears.
“Oh, love,” she says, and the tenderness in her voice makes McKenna weep. I carry her upstairs, and Maeve holds her hand. She brings her into the bath to clean her up.
“Call Megan, Tully,” Maeve says quietly over her shoulder.
I call Megan, and when she answers, I can barely speak. I never get choked up. I haven’t cried since I was a lad. Yet somehow, the words won’t come.
“Hello? Tully? Are you there?”
“We need help, Megan,” I finally manage to say.
She pauses and sighs.
“Oh, Tully. Just got the text from Maeve. I’m on my way.”
It’s a sad, sad day at the McCarthy family mansion. I don’t remember a sadder day since we laid Seamus McCarthy to rest. Grief hangs like a pall in the air. Even the children are somber and quiet.
My brothers interrogate the men we found at the school, and Keenan promises me they’ll hold them for further interrogation from me once I’ve got McKenna settled. News of McKenna’s miscarriage sweeps through the house, and my phone dings with so many texts, I finally shut it off and toss it in the drawer by the nightstand.
When Faidha’s secured, Sebastian joins us. He examines McKenna, gives her some medicine, and prescribes rest.
“She’ll be fine, Tully,” he says with a sad smile. “Unfortunately, it’s more common than one may think, and women come through it just fine.” He pats my arm. “That woman of yours is a strong one. She’ll get through this.”
“What caused it, Sebastian?”
“We rarely know the cause, Tully.”
“Was it fear?”
Did the attack at the school today instigate her loss?
Will he give me a reason to kill them, to take out my anger, fury, and helplessness on the men who came to attack?
“There’s no evidence to support that. Sometimes, there’s no one to blame.”
I don’t like his response, but I nod and thank him.
I want someone to fucking blame.
He leaves.
I’d like to think when tragedy strikes, I’m the bloke that holds it together. We’ve lost brothers in battle. We’ve dealt with deaths and murder, threats and danger at every turn. I’ve been on both the receiving and administering end of harsh punishment and interrogation, and I’ve taken the life of our enemies. Repeatedly.
But never, never as a grown man of the Clan, have I ever been as afraid as I am now. As unsure of myself. I’ve never faced something as heartbreaking.
I open the door to the bedroom to fin
d McKenna curled up on her side in bed, the blanket tucked up around her neck. The room is darkened. Beside her there’s a table laden with food, but she hasn’t touched it. Her eyes are closed, but her breathing’s labored, so I don’t think she’s asleep.
I sit beside her, and her eyes flutter open.
“Baby.”
She pushes the blanket aside and reaches for me. “Oh, Tully.”
Her tears rend my heart. I reach for her and pull her to my chest, gently rocking, as she cries all over again. I let her say everything she needs to.
“It hurt. So much pain, and so much blood. And it was my fault, Tully. I didn’t want this baby and I willed it away. It’s my fault. I’ve brought this on both of us.”
“Now, lass, we’ll have none of that,” I say gently. “You no more brought this on yourself than I made the fucking sun set tonight. It just happens sometimes.”
She nods against my chest. “I know. It happened repeatedly to Maeve, yet it still feels like I made this happen. I was so upset that I was pregnant, and now I’d give anything—”
She breaks into fresh tears. I hold myself together. She needs me to be strong for her. I hold her. I absorb her tears and pray to God I can somehow absorb her pain. It isn’t fair she needs to carry this for both of us.
After a time, her tears slow.
“Let’s get some food in your belly.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not hungry. I can’t eat.” She turns her face away from me, but I gently nudge her chin so her eyes are back on me.
I speak softly but with insistence. “I didn’t ask, McKenna.”
She sighs and nods, as I butter a scone and hand her the plate. She nibbles a few bites until I’m satisfied, then pushes the plate back to me.
“I want to sleep,” she says. I brush her hair out of her eyes and smooth my hand down the back of her neck.
“Of course you do, love. Rest, now.”
I pull the blanket up over her shoulder until her breathing slows. I scribble a note for her in case she wakes while I’m gone.
I join my brothers waiting for me in the interrogation room.
The world seems darker tonight. It’s nightfall, but outside the large windows, there’s barely a scrap of moon or stars in sight. It feels as if the world mourns for us.
I walk down the stairs and do my best to mentally switch gears. My job is to find out who brought this danger here. There’s nothing else I can do for McKenna now.
Maeve meets me on the landing. “Do you want me to go up to her while you do your work?” She knows what we do, and she accepts it.
I shake my head. “She’s resting now. But thank you.”
“Aye,” she says with a sigh. “We’ll give her a few days to rest, then we’ll get her up and about.”
“Alright.”
“We don’t want her sinking into a depression, Tully. Every woman processes a loss differently, and we’ll give her space to do that, but we’ll make sure she gets what she needs as well.”
“Absolutely.”
She looks up the stairs wistfully, then turns and walks the other way.
I go down the stairs that lead to the interrogation room. Mary’s in the library. She waves to me, and I pause in the doorway.
“Mary, go upstairs, please.”
She looks at me in surprise. “Everything alright?”
If she’s friends with the men of the north, she’s familiar with the need for privacy. “Aye, but we need to work down here tonight.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh. Oh, aye. Feeling a bit restless, though. Perhaps I’ll take a walk in the garden.”
She isn’t mine, so I can’t tell her what to do, and she’s as safe here as anywhere. “Aye,” I agree. “Fine. Just be careful.”
“Will do.”
I watch as she exits the back door to head to the garden. She looks so much like McKenna it’s almost striking sometimes.
I head to the room. When I enter, I find all the men of the inner Clan waiting for me, our prisoners tied to chairs, obviously beaten and bloodied.
Cormac’s hands are still clenched into fists, his knuckles streaked in crimson.
“Did you find out anything?”
Keenan sighs. “Aye. Say they work for the men of the north.”
I give them a curious look, but their swollen eyes are on the ground before them. “Is that right?”
One looks up as I approach.
“It’s your turn, Tully,” Keenan says. “See if you can find anything else out.”
These men threatened the safety of my woman.
These men are responsible for bringing danger to Ballyhock.
They will pay.
* * *
Hours later, I return to McKenna. Wearied, and on edge. We brought them here for questioning, and interrogation’s my specialty.
It wasn’t easy, but I found my answers. However, some of the answers only raised more questions.
They tried to tell us they were hired by the Scots, but further interrogation revealed that wasn’t the case. Something foul’s at play, but we don’t know quite what yet.
It wasn’t until the very end of the interrogation I discovered why one of the men was familiar.
His picture in McKenna’s mum’s house. His face on her fucking mantel.
I need to find him.
End him.
I check on McKenna when I get back to the room. She’s still sleeping, swimming in blankets. I take a long, hot shower, to rid me of every fucking thing that happened today. I join her in bed, slide under the covers, and hold her to me.
She rolls over, and snuggles up with her head against my chest.
“Hey,” she whispers. I’m glad she doesn’t know what happened tonight. I hope she never does.
“How are you feeling, baby?”
She sighs, her eyes still closed. “I’m okay. But I’m better now that you’re here.”
I hold her tightly, closing my eyes. I feel her, breathe her in, letting her essence cleanse me.
I’m better now that she’s here, too.
* * *
Chapter 14
McKenna
I wake the next day with an aching, hollow feeling in my chest. Last night, I slept most of the night next to Tully, so close to him there wasn’t an inch between us. And it was lovely. Though sadness permeated my very being, being held by him helped me as well.
I feel tired even after sleeping for ten hours.
I roll over and lay my head on his chest. Still groggy, his eyes still closed, he lifts one of his heavy arms and lets me snuggle in. I close my eyes, listening to his heartbeat.
There’s something warm and comforting about listening to the heartbeat of another when you don’t know the surety of your own.
Wordlessly, he runs his fingers through my hair. It’s a tangled mess, but he gently combs it out, with just enough pressure that it soothes me. I don’t know that I’m crying until I feel the dampness of his t-shirt beneath my cheek.
“Shh, lass,” he says softly.
“I’m—I’m sorry,” I whisper, a little surprised that his tenderness has wrung sadness out of me. I don’t like feeling like this. I want it to go away.
“No apologizing.” His voice is as gentle as a sunbeam, warm and benevolent, and it brings comfort and peace. “I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through, but I know how hard it is myself, seeing you go through this. Knowing I can’t help it or make it better for you.”
His arms around me tighten, and he holds me just so.
“It’s different as a man, not feeling the physical loss…” His voice trails off for a moment, as if he’s choosing his words carefully. “It’s a lot easier when there’s a little person actually here, running around on chubby little feet and wreaking havoc like my brothers’ children, but… well, I did let myself imagine a bit, I’ll admit.” He clears his throat. “But my concern is for you above all.”
“I’m fine,” I say, sniffing as I try fruitlessly to cover up another roun
d of tears.
“You’re not, though, baby. And there’s nothing wrong with not being fine.”
I nod into his chest, and he holds me until the shaking subsides, and I sniff loudly.
“Need a tissue, then?” he asks. “You’re using my t-shirt like a fucking handkerchief, but I’ll let you get away with it this once.”
I actually laugh out loud at that, though the laughter doesn’t bring the lightness it normally does. It seems to momentarily lessen the pang of sadness in my chest. But it’s something.
I sit up, and he settles me between the covers and pillows before he walks to the loo to get me some tissues. He grabs the hem of his t-shirt and yanks it up over his back. It’s splotched wet in patches with my tears. As he balls it up and whips it into the laundry basket, I let my gaze rove over his strong, inked muscles, his tanned skin.
Normally when I gawk at him, it turns me on. This time, it doesn’t. This time, I only feel at peace with his rugged, attentive presence. No one can hurt me with a man like Tully by my side.
He returns to the bed and hands me the tissues. I wipe my nose and sit up, as my stomach growls.
“Hungry?”
I shake my head. I am hungry, but the thought of eating anything right now’s a major turn-off.
“McKenna.” It’s the first reproachful look he’s given me this morning. He’s been tender and patient, but it seems his patience is waning.
“Mmm?”
“Now, I know you’re not very likely to want to join the others for breakfast, but I do think it’s important you eat something.”
He’s right. For once in my life, I have no interest at all in seeing the others. I don’t want their sympathy or pity. I’ll mourn this loss, but I need to do so alone. Even Tully can’t mourn for the loss of both a child and a life I thought I’d have.
So he wants me to eat something. I sigh. “Of course you do.”
“Tell me what you want and I’ll call to the kitchen.”
“Just a scone and a good, bracing cup of tea would do me good.”
He nods, picks up his phone, and makes a call. It’s like there’s room service or something, and it makes me feel a bit spoiled. Still, I’m grateful. Today doesn’t feel like a day I want to socialize with anyone for any reason.
