Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 90211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
“Liam.”
I twitch and look over, gun half raised as a shadow strides toward me, a massive man in all black. His eyes are grim and his face shows no emotion. I lower my aim, gritting my teeth, as Kieren rolls side to side, hand bleeding all over.
Cormac Whelan stands beside me, looking down at the pathetic spectacle.
“This is him?” Cormac’s scowl is terrifying. “He’s not much.”
“No, he’s not, but he’s been a damn pain in our ass.” I feel sick as I edge away from the pair. “And now he’s your pain in the ass.”
Cormac grunts, his attention is entirely on the crying, whimpering Kieren. “I’ll handle him.”
“Tell Finn we’ll debrief later. I’m going home.”
“Enjoy your night.” He says it like we’re having a normal conversation.
I know this is a stretch. I’m pushing against the boundaries of the promise I made to Regan. I told her I wouldn’t kill Kieren, and I’m not.
I’m only handing him over to the Whelan family’s Ghostman. Their professional assassin.
What happens next isn’t my problem.
I walk out of the alley and shove my gun away with shaking hands. I should tell Cormac what Kieren confessed, but I can’t bring myself to do it. He’ll likely ask his own questions and get the information himself before the sun comes up, and there’s not much I can do about it.
Luke made his decision. I didn’t make it for him.
I think about going home, but that means facing her tonight. I don’t know that I can meet her gaze and keep this from her. Now when it has such horrible implications for what’s going to happen in the near future to her family.
My head’s a spinning mess as I get the fuck away from that alley, Kieren’s scream of fear echoing after me, as Cormac goes to work.
CHAPTER 25
REGAN
He didn’t come home again.
I shouldn’t be surprised. This is what Liam does:
He shows up, makes me feel things I don’t want to feel, and disappears for hours or days at a time.
I know there’s a war going on. This is a bad time for the Whelan family, and I should be happy that he keeps coming back at all.
And I shouldn’t care if he’s not around.
I mean, what are we anyway? He’s some guy I married, that’s all. Neither of us wanted it. Sure, we have sex, and when he sticks around it’s not all that bad. He’s funny when he wants to be, charming even, caring, gentle, attractive as hell, a little scary but in a good way, and what does that all get me?
Absolutely fucking nowhere, that’s where.
So what if my stomach churns with butterflies?
Those are meaningless feelings. They’re pale and stupid in the face of the actual truth: Liam’s a bastard, and I like him.
I find myself at that diner again, not even sure why. Hal’s working and she ushers me into her section with a comforting smile and a gesture toward an empty booth. I park myself, scan the menu glumly, order coffee, ask for pancakes, and lean my head against the window.
What the hell do I want? That’s the question I keep circling back toward like I’m a clockwork soldier with a single working leg, marching endlessly in an ugly oval. Do I want Liam for real? Do I want to be his wife? Build something with him? Or do I want to survive for a while?
I watch the door, thinking he’ll come through any second, drinking coffee, prodding at pancakes, until he does. I have to do a double take, thinking he’s a figment of my overtired imagination, but it’s definitely him in jeans and a camo sweatshirt, looking like a total stranger, still handsome as all hell, but not his usual sleek self. He greets Hal, who betrays me and points me out. He comes over, his usual smile missing, and slides into the booth across from me.
I say nothing. He reaches out and takes one of my pancakes.
“I was still eating that.”
“Sorry. Want it back?”
Hal brings him coffee and disappears.
“What are you doing here, Liam?”
“Finding you.” He hunches over the mug. Black bags hang under his eyes.
“You look bad. Where have you been?”
“I was out all night thinking.”
“Must’ve been hard work.”
The look he gives me makes my core pulse. “You have no idea, love,” he says, his voice whispery soft. “We need to talk.”
I wait, not liking this at all. Something feels supremely wrong. “What did you do last night, Liam?”
I know better than to ask, but the way his mouth flinches makes me sure I’m about to hear something terrible.
“I’m going to tell you a truth. You’re not going to like it, but believe me, I wouldn’t be saying this if it weren’t important.”
“Is that why you didn’t come home yesterday? And why you’re dressed like you own at least two trucks and several assault rifles?”