by Jane Henry
“Now, Cormac, when a woman of the Clan’s expecting, you can’t expect us to leave her be,” Megan says, walking right into the room with mam and Caitlin.
“I know, dear,” mam says. “We’ll shut the door and let you men do your thing.”
“Is this about the reporter?” Caitlin asks.
“Ugh, that bitch,” Megan mutters.
I want to shake the lot of them. “How do you know about her?”
“Well,” Caitlin says, looking abashed. “I… she was bothering me yesterday, came into the garden and started asking me all sorts of questions about the baby and Keenan.”
“And she had the nerve to take pictures of the baby!” Megan says, her bright green eyes flashing.
“When was that?” Aileen stands in the doorway of the bedroom. Her damp hair’s twisted into a knot on the top of her head. She’s wearing the dress I handed her, and she’s barefoot, but she’s the prettiest damn thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“We don’t need you to get involved,” I begin, but Caitlin answers her anyway.
“‘Bout dinner time? I went to the garden with the baby, and she was there.”
Aileen looks at me. “She was hiding a good long while then, wasn’t she?”
“Aye,” I say, when someone knocks on my door again. I open the door to Keenan and Nolan, and before I close it, Tully, Boner, and Lachlan arrive.
“Okay, you girls off to the bedroom with Aileen,” Keenan says but he snags a ginger biscuit off mam’s tray first.
“Those are for her nausea, Keenan,” she says, slapping his hand away.
“Honestly!” Caitlin says.
Keenan looks up at me, wide-eyed. “Nausea? There a reason for that, brother?”
Megan and Caitlin giggle.
“Aye,” I say. I can’t hide the pride I feel as I tell my brothers. “Aileen’s expecting.”
“Guess we don’t wait around here,” Aileen mutters. Nolan slaps my back, the others congratulate me, Boner proposes we celebrate at The Craic, and Keenan kisses Aileen’s cheek. She flushes pink and thanks him.
The girls head off into the bedroom, and the men assemble.
“Well done, you,” Lachlan says, giving me a grin. The youngest of our Clan, he only joined rank last year, after Keenan recruited him. He graduated St. Albert’s, the finishing school where our men are trained, and quickly became one of the most loyal, dependable men.
Boner sits on the recliner in my living room and pushes it back.
“Alright, lads, now what’s the story? Why’d you wake me out of a good, sound sleep, for a meeting?” he asks. “To tell me Cormac knocked his wife up? Could’ve told you that myself.”
“Fuck off, Boner,” I tell him. I whip a pillow at his head, but the wanker catches it before it smacks him.
“No, we’re here to talk about what happened to me last night,” Nolan says. He leans back on the sofa and kicks off his shoes.
“Don’t make yourself at home,” I tell him. “After the meeting, I’m kicking you boys out of here so I can tend to my wife.”
Tully and Lachlan give each other knowing grins. “Wish I could tend to a wife,” Lachlan says. I give him a good-natured punch to the arm. He grins and rubs it out. Keenan sits on the sofa, leans forward, and rests his elbows on his knees. He clears his throat and the room goes quiet. We might give each other crap, but we know why we’re here.
“Nolan caught a spy last night.” No one laughs now. “Cormac witnessed as well. They were coming home from town, Nolan was on the front step. Both saw someone spying in our garden.”
“How’d he get past security?”
“She,” Nolan corrects. “A very good question.”
Boner’s eyebrows shoot up. Lachlan looks at Nolan sharply. To my surprise, Tully looks away.
Is he hiding something?
“Says she found the door unlocked and decided to pay us a visit.”
“Unlocked?” Keenan says, his brows furrowed.
“Not unlocked, brother. Not when you look through footage on the security feed.”
Tully looks paler than I’ve ever seen him.
“You got something to say, Tully?” I ask him.
He shifts uncomfortably on his seat and clears his throat. “No, why?”
Nolan sobers. “I think you do. Because I’ve already looked through the feed, brother.”
The room goes quiet, and through the closed door to my bedroom, I can hear the higher-pitched, muffled feminine voices in the other room.
Keenan looks from Nolan to Tully. If Tully’s in any way responsible for a security breach, he’d be smart to fess up now. It’s a major infraction, on a level just below betrayal or theft from the brotherhood. We take security seriously.
When my father was Chief, one of his own left his wallet and keys in a woman’s room after a one-night stand. I attended the punishment he received for it, witnessed Keenan delivering a beating I remember to this day. It was one of my first inductions into Irish mob life, one I won’t forget.
Tully curses under his breath, then looks to Keenan.
“I’m sorry, sir,” he says. “Slept with a girl from the club. Came home, found my keys missing.”
“And you didn’t tell anyone,” Keenan says, his voice holding deadly calm.
Tully clears his throat. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Thought I’d go by in the morning and get them,” he said.
“You fucked her on your night on duty,” Nolan says. His boyish grin is gone, his eyes flinty. “Sheena told all.” He turns to Keenan. “Sheena’s the reporter.”
“Do I need to ask how you got the information out of her?” Keenan asks.
“No,” Nolan says, and his lips twitch. “I did so thoroughly. Suffice it to say, the girl won’t be back here anytime soon. I got what I needed.”
Keenan nods. He trusts him.
“Would explain the call I got from Walsh,” Boner says. He served time, and with his characteristic charm and wit, befriended several corrections officers and local police. He’s the one that keeps their bellies and wallets full. It comes in handy having local law enforcement in our pocket.
“What’d Walsh say?” Nolan asks, a dangerous glint in his eyes.
Walsh is the head of the Ballyhock police force.
“Said a woman called to complain to him about seeing one of the men in our family manhandling a woman outside their estate.”
Nolan snorts. “Didn’t give a name?”
“No, but he traced it back to the bitch. Told her he’d look into it.”
“I’ll take care of her,” Nolan says.
“Do it,” Keenan says, his voice steel. “Or I will.”
Keenan and Nolan lock gazes for a moment. Nolan knows Keenan’s way of taking care of her will end her life. “You know the laws of The Clan when it comes to spying, Nolan.”
“I do, brother,” Nolan says. “But this particular spy may prove useful.”
“She’s got a nice arse, too, aye?” Lachlan says with a grin. He’s young, nearly twenty years old, but he’s a big lad, sturdy and fearless. “Might also prove useful.”
Nolan narrows his eyes at him but the others guffaw.
“Shut it,” Nolan says. “Her mighty fine arse has nothing at all to do with it.”
We sober when Keenan clears his throat. “Lachlan.”
As the newest member of The Clan, Lachlan’s called on by Keenan to earn his place at times. He’s still learning the laws of our order, the rules of brotherhood and fellowship.
Tully squirms, as if he knows what’s coming.
Keenan continues to address Lachlan. “How would Malachy deal with one of you boys if you’d been responsible for a security breach by sheer negligence?”
Lachlan strokes his chin thoughtfully. “Well,” he begins. “He taught us the order of the Clan, so we were held to those rules even as young lads.”
“Aye.”
“A breach against security puts the lives of everyone
in danger,” Lachlan says. His voice holds a tone of authority of an older man. He’s a natural born leader. “Malachy is an old-fashioned sort,” he says. “A minor infraction, anyone who did such a thing would likely lose privileges. No leaving school grounds, errand boy for the teachers at the weekend, that type of thing. But a more serious infraction would earn physical punishment. Hard labor. A brutal workout. A hard beating.”
“Aye,” Keenan repeats. He turns to Tully. “And what would you say’s a proper punishment?”
As father figure to our Clan, Keenan holds everyone to high standards.
Tully clears his throat. “Whatever you think best, sir.” Though we love each other like brothers, there’s a distinct hierarchy we all adhere to. I observe Keenan’s methods closely, as second-up to the throne.
Tully looks as if he might be sick. He’s no wimp, and I’ve seen him fight with the best of them. A fellow strike force brother, he’s had his jaw and nose busted. But it’s one thing getting into a fight and getting your arse kicked, and quite another to be sentenced punishment by your Chief.
“Good answer,” Keenan says. “It’s by sheer luck the breach was something rather easily dealt with this time. Cormac will see to your punishment.”
Christ.
He turns to Lachlan. “And Lachlan will capture it on video and send it to the girl you fucked.”
My stomach tightens. I hate raising fists to my own brothers. But our rules are inflexible, and Keenan doesn’t play games.
“The girl’s best friends with Sheena,” Nolan says. “It’ll get back to her.”
Keenan swings his gaze to Nolan. “Precisely.”
“Will it please her, though?” I ask Keenan.
He shakes his head. “Depends on what we say when we deliver the message. I want her to know exactly who she’s dealing with.”
Tully stands and faces the group. “I’m sorry.”
Keenan stands, nods to me, and accepts his apology with a grave nod. “You will be.”
Several hours later, I come back to Aileen, work worn and tired. I did what I was ordered to, and Tully took it, not even raising his hands to block the blows I administered. Lachlan witnessed, Keenan signed off. Tully won’t make that mistake a second time.
Aileen is sitting by the large window in the living room, a blanket on her lap and a cup of tea in her hand. She blinks when I enter the room.
“You didn’t tell me you were going anywhere,” she says matter-of-factly, the barest hint of reproach in her voice.
“I did,” I tell her. “You didn’t see the text I sent you?”
Her eyes go to my fists, lacerated and covered in blood, and she raises a hand to her mouth. I watch as her eyes widen, as she takes in my appearance.
“I didn’t,” she says. “Hell, I forgot I even have a phone. Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“Would rather mam didn’t know,” I say with a sigh. “She hates it when we get violent among each other.”
“You fought with a brother?” she asks, her eyes going even wider.
I sigh, cross the room, and sit on the couch opposite her. I go to scrub a hand across my brow but stop when I see the blood. I sigh. “No. I didn’t fight him.”
Her brows draw together. “Then why…”
“Retribution.”
She frowns for a moment, then finally nods. “I see. Did someone break a rule or something?”
“Aye.”
“And it’s just that simple? You break a rule, this is the punishment.”
“Aye.”
She doesn’t protest or ask any more questions, but sits back on the couch. Thoughtful. “And what about the woman Nolan caught last night? Is she alright?”
“She’s home,” I say.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“I rarely will, lass. Not when it deals with the Clan.”
She doesn’t speak for long minutes. I finally stand and head to the bedroom. “I need a shower.”
“So this is what I’m bringing a child into.”
I turn back to her. “Come again?”
“This,” she says with anger. “This… barbaric behavior. This is what I’m bringing a child into?”
I don’t want to hear it, not now, not when I’ve just finished giving a man I’d give my own life for a beating that left both eyes swollen and shut and broken ribs he’ll need mending. Bloody hell, I’d have rather fought him square and taken his fists myself than have him just fucking take it like he did.
So I don’t take her bait. I don’t answer. I turn and walk to the bathroom, stripping my clothes off on the way. I whip my dirty, bloodied t-shirt into the basket of laundry.
She has no choice in this. She bears my name and my child, and she was born into this life.
“Not now, Aileen,” I tell her, fucking hoping she heeds the warning in my voice because I’m not in the mood for a fight.
“Is it?” she asks, her voice rising in pitch to match her temper. I turn back to face her.
“Is it what?”
“What I’m bringing a child into?”
“I said not now.”
But she’s on her feet, her hands on her hips. “No. Now. I want to have this conversation. I don’t want you to hide this from me.”
I turn to face her, my hold on my temper snapping like a twig in a hurricane.
Crack.
I stalk back to her. She doesn’t back up or even widen her eyes, but narrows them on me. Waiting, without a trace of fear.
“Hide it from you?” I ask. “Hide fucking what? You reckon I have a secret life I don’t share with you?”
“Aye,” she says. “You do.”
“I’m hiding nothing,” I say, reaching her. “There are details you’re not privy to, but you know who I am. What my job is. And how we operate.”
We stand inches apart. Her chest heaves and her cheeks are bright pink with anger. My hands clench in fists. I could hurt her for this, for pushing me to the brink of anger when I’m at my lowest. I want to take her slender shoulders and shake some fucking sense into her.
“Aye,” she repeats, angrier this time. “I. Fucking. Do.”
I take her shoulders and grip, but I hold myself back. “Don’t you dare. I told you I didn’t want to talk about it. I fucking told you not to push me.”
“Or what?” she says. She shoves my hands off her, then places her hands on my chest and pushes me away. “Or what? Are you going to beat me, too, then? Hmm? Pregnant and all?”
I fist her hair in my fingers and yank her head back. “You reckon because you’re pregnant you get some sort of free pass, lass? Do you?”
She grits her teeth and doesn’t reply. A part of me is happy she doesn’t, because the truth is, she does have a pass. If she weren’t pregnant, I’d stripe her ass with my belt for her cheek and insolence.
“No. I don’t think I have a pass. All I want is the fucking truth.”
I want to hurt her. To make her cry. But Christ, she’s my wife, the mother of my child. So I hold myself back. I restrain the wild beast that threatens to attack, to hurt her.
“Fine, then,” I say through clenched teeth. “I’ll give you truth. Last night, Sheena, the fucking reporter, snuck onto our property. We don’t know for sure what she saw or what she did. Nolan interrogated her and he got some answers, but how do we know if that’s all?”
She blinks, her teeth still gritted, her nostrils flared.
“She got onto our property, because one of my fuckin’ men banged her bestie. Left his wallet and keys. They had their fun. Played him for the fucking fool he is. It was a mistake that could’ve cost us lives.” I tug her hair again. “And tell me, Aileen. You ought to know. Do you remember? Do you remember what happens to people who threaten the lives of the Clan? Or is that memory buried somewhere with the others?”
She blinks, then blinks again. The color drains from her cheeks, and I wonder if I’ve pushed too far. She remembers. She remembers why she hates me.
“Yes,” she whispered. “You beat me before.”
“I never beat you, lass,” I whisper. “I punished you for running, yes. For jeopardizing the lives of many.”
“And that’s what you did tonight? Is there no one safe from the brutality you men inflict on others?”
I don’t answer her.
I don’t like the way her voice quavers. I don’t like the way her eyes water, or how her look of anger has morphed into one of hatred. I don’t like it at all. She blinks, and a lone tear rolls down her cheek. It makes my stomach turn sour.
What am I doing?
What the fuck am I doing?
I release her as if she’s on fire. She stumbles and falls back onto the couch, shoving the heels of her hands into her eye sockets. Tears leak down her cheeks. I didn’t hurt her, I know I didn’t, but reminding her of the memories was a bad fucking idea.
She’d forgotten that I whipped her before we were married. That I fucked her ruthlessly on our wedding night when she asked me to make her bleed. She forgot all of that, and like a fucking douchebag, I remind her.
I should hold her. I should reach for her, comfort her. I should tell her she has a right to be upset, that brutality like this isn’t right or good, and no, I don’t like that I’m a part of this sometimes.
But I don’t. I turn from her. I walk to the bathroom, finish stripping my clothes off, and turn the water on to scalding. It’s so hot it burns, my skin aching beneath the onslaught. But it doesn’t cleanse me. It doesn’t cleanse me at all.
Chapter 16
Aileen
I shouldn’t be so angry. Or hell, maybe I should. God, I don’t know.
I feel like my emotions are on a pendulum. One moment I’m up, the other I’m down. One moment, he’s got me riding the highest of highs, sex-sated and eager to please him, hell, cuddling. Next minute, he’s all full-on Neanderthal.
I hear the pounding of the shower, and I wish I could forgive him. I wish I could let this go. I wish I didn’t have to push him when he was already at his lowest, or damn near to it.
But I remember. God, I remember, how he came into the room when I lived back home, masked and dressed in black. He whipped me for running. He humiliated me.
