Tempting Fate

by Kylie Hillman

  As is his way, Dad tries to bluff his way out of being honest. He smiles at his son instead of giving him a straight answer. Lachie just glares. Matty—our pacifist—steps behind Mik so he can no longer be seen. The hope I’d spied in Dad’s eyes, flickers and dies. He looks to me. I tamp down my innate and ingrained urge to soothe his hurt and meet his gaze as stonily as I can. “I’ve been looking after her; taking her to treatments and all that shit.”

  Well, that explains why Wendy’s been hard to catch up with. Grabbing Mik’s arm, I turn to my brothers and exclaim, “That’s why we’ve barely seen her. I was scared she was wallowing at home alone—”

  A horrifying thought hits me. “Are you back together?”

  “Yeah, we are—”

  Jesus Christ. The room erupts with my sibling objections. Mik swings first my way, then toward my brothers. He seems uncertain how to deal with the bombshell our father just dropped. I grab him, standing on my toes and whispering. “Let him deal with it. It’s his problem; not yours. You’ve cleaned up too many of his messes for him.”

  Mik peers at me through surprised eyes. I lift my eyebrows at him and he smirks. “Cheeky lil wench, aren’t we?”

  My brothers are still having their emotional meltdowns; my father standing in the midst of the carnage he’s created, while Mik and I are sharing a moment that’s been months coming. The peace that’s been missing from his eyes ever since he was dragged away from me in handcuffs all those months ago returns. The green flecks in his hazel eyes become more pronounced and his head starts to lower to mine. I jerk away from him when my father lets out an ear-splitting whistle that silences my brothers and puts an end to my intimate interlude.

  “Shut the fuck up.” Dad barks. One by one, his hardened gaze moves around the room and settles on each of us. It’s a familiar technique of his—one he’s been using since we were kids—one that still works if the ensuing silence is any evidence. “What me and Wendy does affects you guys, I get that. She gets that. Which is why I need you on board. My woman needs us to bury the hatchet so we can look after her.”

  He stares at me, expectation written on his face. “Baby Girl?”

  My heart contracts in my chest. I’ve been beaten within an inch of my life. Twice. I’ve had broken ribs. A badly fractured leg. A punctured lung. Yet, none of those injuries hurt as much as hearing that name come from my father’s lips in a tone that tries to fool me into thinking that he actually cares. “I wish you’d stop calling me that. I’m Maddi, your ruined child. Remember?”

  Mik squeezes my hand. My brothers have two distinct reactions to my words—letting me know which ones already knew what he said about me, and which ones are hearing it for the first time. I’m not supposed to know. Mik forbade anyone from telling me. The old saying “loose lips sinks ships” can quite easily be applied to the Shamrocks. When they’re drinking, they gossip like a bunch of old ladies. It’s not hard to piece together the little snippets I overhear.

  “I’m sorry, for everything. I’m going to make up for it.” The atmosphere fills with a collective shock that only increases when he speaks again. “Wendy needs us to pull together until she gets over this. This surgery is the big one, but we have the reconstructive surgery to get through as well. Once that’s done, I’m laying my sins on the table and taking whatever the Shamrocks dish out.”

  “That’s not your decision to make,” Mik snaps. “We’ve already voted.”

  “If you want to bring Thomas Taylor down, you’ll meet my terms.”

  The last twenty seconds have been a rollercoaster of emotions. He’s sorry. He wants to lay his sins out. Then he tops it off by trying to blackmail Mik into letting him have his own way. That’s vintage Beast—my dad’s definitely living up to his moniker today. The mention of the corrupt Police Commissioner that he plotted with to frame Mik has every second of agony I suffered during his absence coming back to me. Mik bunches his fists and takes a step closer to my father. With nimble feet, I’m by his side before he can touch Dad, slipping an arm around his waist and pressing myself into his side to calm him down. If we were anywhere but at a hospital waiting for Wendy to emerge from surgery, I’d let Mik pummel him to death; my anger at Dad’s games of an equal level to Mik’s. My man keeps closing the distance, despite my added body weight. He’s dragging me along with him, so Benji steps in the middle and puts a hand on his chest.

  “Mo Ghrá,” I whisper in his ear. “Here is not the place. You can snap his neck later. Right now is about Wendy, not his games.”

  Mik stops, a growl low in his throat when Dad crosses his arms over his chest. Honestly, who does he think he is? He should be grovelling at our feet for our forgiveness, not trying to work everything in his own favour.

  “I’ll take your bait, for now, and play your sick little game. Just don’t expect it to go the way you plan. I’m making the rules this time.”

  My father simply shrugs at Mik’s threat. “I want my woman back properly. No more of this hiding shit. If it takes a few games to get it, I’m willing to play.”

  “At the cost of your own head?” Acting like the puppet master he believes himself to be, Dad waves his hand around the room at all of us. “My kids and my woman. That’s all I want now. If I can’t have them, I’m better off dead anyway.”

  A gasp—of shock or incredulity at his audacity; maybe a bit of both—leaves me before I can stop it. Ducking my head into Mik’s neck, I try to sort through my feelings. I can’t. I’m too muddled; my mind spinning, my body trembling as if I’m stuck in a snow storm instead of a hurricane of emotion caused by my mercurial father. My right thigh burns with the need to slice it open. I haven’t cut since my close call that night at the cabin. Trust my father to be the catalyst for a potential relapse. Lost in a cloud of confusion, my brothers are the last thing on my mind until Joel breaks into bellows of laughter. Lifting my head, I find everyone else looking at him as well.

  “It always comes down to what you want. Some things will never change.” He holds out a misshapen hand to Matty, and I watch with growing worry, as he uses his help to get to his feet. “I’ll do whatever it takes to help Wendy, but I can’t be in the same room as this cockhead. Someone come get me when she’s out of surgery.”

  Joel’s declaration hangs in the air, making the already tense atmosphere feel heavier, while he limps his way to the door, and then through it. Dad’s pushed everyone too far this time. The words “I’m sorry”, followed by an ultimatum that negates his apology, is the worst way he could have approached this. Except, he’s too into himself and what he wants, to realize that he’s made a fatal error.

  My pulse spikes when Benji closes the distance between him and Dad. Our father shifts onto the balls of his feet, then curls his fists. My instinctive move to get between them is halted by Mik, who holds me in place with one determined arm. My twin is the same height as our father. They stand facing each other, almost eye to eye, while Dad struggles to maintain his usual bombastic attitude in the glare of Benji’s unrestrained loathing. I’m not in the firing line, yet, even I can feel the full force of his hatred.

  “I said all I wanted to say to you last time we spoke. Every word still stands,” Benji’s statement is cryptic. Mik nods his agreement with my brother’s words—leaving me to wonder what went down that I’m not aware of. Benji turns on his heel, grabs Lacey’s hand and announces the rest of his declaration to the entire room as he follows Joel out of the exit. “I’m in. I’ll be waiting with Joel.”

  Matty and Lachie take one step after him before pausing. Shooting a quick glance my way, we share a wordless exchange where I ask them with a raised right eyebrow whether they’re sure about what they’re about to do. Nodding as they depart, I sigh. Dad has managed—by virtue of our love for Wendy—to prolong our begrudging presence in his life.

  That father-daughter loyalty that refuses to die rears its head again when I read the defeat in my father’s eyes. Providing him with what will be my last act of kindness toward h
im, I break the silence in the waiting room. “Dad,” I say, the word feeling foreign on my tongue. “We’ll wait with you.”

  After acknowledging me with a small incline of his head, he retakes his original seat, leaning his head against the wall and shutting his eyes. Dragging Mik with me, I take the seat next to him. His lips move with unspoken words, and I know that he’s praying. Digging deep into the well of loyalty and love that he’s almost drained, I ignore Mik’s low growl and slide my hand into his. This moment—this final touch—is for me more than him. Tonight, I’m giving Mik my blessing. My father’s fate will rest with my man. Seeking Mik’s warm hand, I intertwine our fingers and squeeze tight. My hands, the appendages that have touched the men on either side of me with love many times, are the only thing that are keeping me grounded at present.

  On my left, I have the man who gave me life.

  On my right, I have the man who’s become my life.

  And, in the middle, we have a woman who’s been forced to make the biggest decision of her life. A woman who’s certain she’s chosen right because the lightness in her heart tells her so.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  MIK

  Seeing Lainey’s hand in Beast’s makes me want to rip his traitorous arm off then slit his throat with the hunting knife tucked down the side of my boot. And, I would, except seeing the peace on her beautiful face while she holds onto her father is killing me. My mind is screaming that I’ve lost her; she’s never going to give me her blessing now. Beast’s hold on her is stronger than mine. Her love for him bigger than what she feels for me. I underestimated Lainey’s capacity to forgive the fucker sitting next to her like he has some fucking right to her compassion. How dare he seek comfort from the person he’s hurt the most.

  For the next three hours, we sit in silence. Twisted thoughts of flaying him alive and dancing on his corpse compete with my constant fear that Lainey is going to walk away if I go ahead with my payback. It feels like I’m being pulled in two directions, like a magnet with two south poles caught in the middle of two north poles that promise me everything I’ve ever wanted. Retribution and reward. My retribution being Beast’s death; my reward the eternal love of his daughter.

  By the time the surgeon comes into the waiting room to tell us that Wendy is in recovery and we can see her shortly, Lainey has let go of Beast’s hand and she’s curled into my side. She’s half-asleep; her cheek resting on my shoulder, with my hand trapped between her jean-clad thighs. It makes me feel marginally better. When I stand to get the boys so we can go see Wendy, her head falls from my shoulder, and she lets out a half snort, half shriek of surprise. Okay, so maybe she was more than half-asleep. Laughing, I hold my hand out to her. “That was elegant, Angel.”

  Lainey is not someone who wakes up well. Baring her teeth at me, she throws her comeback over her shoulder as she sashays her ass out of the room to find her brothers. “At least, I didn’t sit there growling like a rabid dog guarding his only bone.”

  “Touché.” I laugh again and move to follow her.

  Beast grabs my upper arm to stop me. “I know what you have planned. I also know that you’ll never go through with it. My baby girl will see to that.”

  I have a brain snap. Brain explosion. Whatever the fuck you want to call it. A red haze that clouds my vision almost blinds me. Using my forearm against his throat for leverage, I back Beast against the wall, spitting in his face. “I knew your speech earlier was a big fucking act. Weak, pathetic, piece of shit you are. Using Wendy’s cancer to suck your kids back in, then playing on Lainey’s emotions to stop me from killing you. Just shows how fucking sick you are.”

  He sneers at me, wiping his face. “A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”

  “Maybe. But you’re not a fucking man. You’re a fucking charlatan. Always looking for a way to work everything to your advantage.” I push against his throat, smiling when he gasps for breath. Letting him go, I head for the door. “Just know that I fucking see through you. So do Benji and Joel. And, for the record, Lainey knows exactly what I have planned. And she knows I’m going through with it—with her blessing or not.”

  My exit is stopped by the sounds of Lainey and her brothers chatting away as they head back to us. Shaking out my fists, I try my hardest to bring my breathing back under control. Benji’s first through the door, his lips curling into an evil grin that he directs Beast’s way. With one assessing look between us, he figures out that we’ve had words. Holding out a fist to me, his changes to a smirk when I give him a fist bump.

  “Move your asses,” he jerks his head in the direction of the door. “The rest of them have headed for her room.”

  Catching up with the others, we wait at Wendy’s door for about five minutes until we’re given the okay to enter because she’s finally stirring. Beast keeps his distance; still trying his hardest to monopolise Lainey, even though she seems to be going out of her way to avoid him. A few measuring glances are sent my way, then directed toward Benji and Joel. The cockhead is trying to work out how much of what I said is the truth and how much is a bluff.

  Every single word was a God’s-honest, cast-iron fact—something he’s going to learn very soon.

  Walking into the hospital room is like walking into the past. Fourteen years ago to be exact. It has a similar effect on everyone else. Lainey plasters herself against my side. Benji pulls his usual impenetrable man act while Joel turns white. The two youngest--who’ve managed to work their way under my skin and into my heart more than ever during the last couple months—crowd behind me and my shaking woman. All-in-all, I’d say that between the lot of us we’re demonstrating the full range of reactions to shock and grief.

  “Hey there, little lady. Welcome back.” Beast steps forward and Wendy turns her head to him. She looks like shit. The sound that leaves her lips when she moves is gut wrenching. “Shhh. Stay still.”

  Beast dotes on her, pushing her hair off her forehead and giving her a kiss. I get that he genuinely loves her—fuck, I believe that he truly loves his kids, too. As shitty as they are with him, they still love him. That’s all well and good; the only problem being that he’s quite happy to use that to his advantage any time he feels the need. Benji meets my eyes, shaking his head and mouthing “Oscar for best actor goes to” in my direction. Planting another kiss on Wendy’s lips, Beast steps back and waves his kids forward. “I have a surprise for you.”

  Wendy loses her shit, trying not to cry when she sees us.

  “We’re not even going to say a word about you hiding this from us,” Lainey speaks first. “We’re just glad you’re going to be okay.”

  Wendy coughs, then answers in a raspy voice that sounds like something that’d come out of my father. “I’m happy you’re all here.”

  My crazy-strong woman has appointed herself the group spokesperson, despite the fact that I can see her fighting off her desire to cry. Gesturing at all of us, we nod at her next statement. She has it one-hundred percent right. “This is only because of you. Nothing else has changed.”

  “Okay.” Wendy agrees. Every person in the room can tell that she’s lying. You’d have to be a fucking blind man to miss the hope in her eyes when she looks at Beast. King of the bullshit artists has his game face on; smiling at his sick woman with a look in his eye that makes the happiness in hers increase. That’s gotta be a skill that’d come in handy—being able to lie without actually saying a fucking word.

  “While I’ve got everyone here,” Beast commands the attention of the room. “I have something I want to ask Wendy.”

  He pulls a velvet covered box from his right pocket and cracks the lid, revealing a large, shiny diamond ring. Fuck me drunk. This cunt’s pulling out all stops. His smugness back in the waiting room makes sense now—he knows I’ll never get Lainey’s blessing after she watched this shit go down. Hell, I’ll be lucky if I still have Benji and Joel on board.

  “Wendy Markham. You’re my second chance at true love, and I can’t go another mi
nute without righting the wrong that I’ve done you. It’s taken me too fucking long to sort my shit out, but I have. I want to make an honest woman of you—something that I should’ve done years ago.” Dropping to one knee, he keeps spewing his bullshit. The words I hear make me want to take my booted foot and bury it in the back of his game-playing head. “Will you marry me? Will you be my little lady, officially and for fucking ever?

  The delight in Wendy’s expression dims when she looks at all of us. The boys are shaking their heads, and Lainey’s about to cry. And, I’d bet my dad’s life on them not being tears of celebration.

  “What do you say?” Beast has to raise his voice to be heard over the angry mutterings of his kids. Anger floods his face when he realizes that he’s not getting the reaction he was expecting. He glares at everyone until they shut up, then makes the mistake of meeting my eyes. I raise my right eyebrow, then gesture for him to continue with his show. The smirk on my face is all bluff, on the inside I’m shitting myself. Fucker may have won this round.

  “Don’t worry about what anyone else thinks. Tell me your answer. Yes, or no? Truthfully.”

  All hope dies in me when I read Wendy’s expression. She’s letting go of everything he’s done because he’s giving her the one thing she’s wanted their entire relationship.

  “Yes, Patrick. My answer is yes.”

  ***

  Slamming down my empty beer bottle, I flick my head toward Benji for another one. He glares at me and shakes his head. I point one finger at my patch, flipping him the bird when he scowls and takes his sweet-ass time grabbing me a fresh beer. My mood is getting worse with each bottle I down, but I don’t give a flying fuck. Everyone can take their offended fucking feelings and shove them up their dainty fucking asses. Until, they’ve been forced to swallow the bitter taste of defeat, they’ll have no clue how it feels.