Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Since when did she put herself in a category—any category—with someone who was a freaking O’Malley?
But it was hard not to see the similarities between her and Keira. They were both trapped by circumstances—though Charlie’s were circumstances of her own making. She could have left New York and gone anywhere. No, she couldn’t have been a cop again, but she could have had a normal life.
Instead, she’d chosen to stay and live with the knowledge that she’d never really be the daughter her father wanted, that she would never regain the reputation as a cop that she’d always craved, that she wasn’t guaranteed to see justice at all.
So, yeah, she and Keira weren’t as different as she’d originally thought.
Maybe that means Aiden and I aren’t, either…
“Pretty sure Aiden would have a stroke if I asked him to go to that gym a couple times a week. Think of all the terrible things that could happen to me.”
“I’ll talk to him.” She wasn’t sure what kind of pull she had at this point, but Charlie was prepared to go toe to toe over this. Keira had lit up in that gym, and at this point in her life, she needed any life preserver that would keep her from drowning.
She laughed. “Good luck. I’d almost pay to have a ringside seat for that conversation, but there’s the chance it’d devolve into angry sex and the last thing I need is therapy for that, too.” She came to an abrupt halt. “Shit.”
Charlie turned to see what had leached the color from her face and stopped short. The man standing on the top step of the O’Malley home could have been a doppelgänger for Aiden, give or take a few decades. The only real difference aside from eye color was that he had more lines around his eyes and mouth and silver dusting his temples.
The eyes were different, too, she noticed as she and Keira came to a stop at the bottom of the steps. It was more than just the color—brown, compared to green. This man’s eyes were cold. Aiden’s expression could go icy, but it was a mask he wore. When he wasn’t paying attention, his eyes conveyed worlds of knowledge.
Charlie didn’t get the impression that this man bothered with a mask.
This would be one Seamus O’Malley.
If her dad could see her right now, he would be shitting bricks. Charlie straightened her spine and kept her shoulders back, doing her best to ignore the way the man looked at her—as if she was a cheap whore or shit on the bottom of his shoe. He took her in and dismissed her in the space of a heartbeat, turning his attention to his daughter. “Keira.”
“Father.” A tremor worked its way through the woman, so slight Charlie wouldn’t have noticed it if she hadn’t been so close. “What are you doing back?”
“I’ve come to fix the mess your brother created.”
Well, hell. That could mean a number of things, and none of them boded well for Aiden’s plans to bring Romanov down. Or for the woman next to her, currently shrinking back to the miserable mess she was before their outing. Keira wrapped her arms around herself. “That’s fucking wonderful.”
“Language.”
“Yes, language. God forbid someone talk about what a fucking mess our family is.” Just like that, she dropped her arms and lifted her chin, glaring at Seamus. “You should go back to Connecticut, Father. No one wants you here, and Aiden is doing a better job of running this family than you ever did.” She marched up the stairs and shouldered past him.
It was all well and good that she’d stood up for herself, but without his daughter in the picture, all his attention turned back to Charlie. She shuddered and tried to hide the reaction, but his smirk let her know he’d seen it. “This is what my son lost his damn mind for?” He shook his head. “Pathetic.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” She had no reason to defend herself to this man—nothing she could say would change the opinion he’d formed before he ever met her.
That didn’t stop her from wanting to punch him in his smirking face. That’s your anger talking. Calm down. She took a breath, and then another. This was Aiden’s father. That weird note she’d heard in his voice this morning made more sense now. Maybe she should have listened, but she was right that Keira needed to get out for a while. She was definitely going to talk to Aiden about getting her set up with regular Krav Maga classes. If the woman got out of the oppressive atmosphere of this house more often, she wouldn’t be shrinking into a mere fraction of the person she could be.
That she should be.
It was possible Aiden was dealing with some of the same shit. She’d never really considered it before. I need to consider it now. She strode up the stairs, putting a little swing in her walk—first, because she was furious, and second, because if Seamus O’Malley thought she was a gold-digging whore, at least she should play the part. There is no shame in the situation, no matter what he thinks.