Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
So I pick up my phone. Type. Delete it. Type again.
I place my phone face down and go back to the ledger.
Chapter Five
DECLAN
I walk into Seamus's office, and as soon as he sees me, his face breaks into a grin. It's been a while. Christ, but I missed the arsehole.
He pushes away from his desk, walks over, and pulls me into a bear hug, clapping me on the back so hard I’m pretty sure he’s trying to wind me. “Welcome home, brother,” he says, his voice husky. “I missed your feckin' face.”
I laugh and smack his back in return. “You got old,” I tell him, deflecting.
He snorts. “And you got fat.”
I snort. “Like fuck I did.” I pound my chest. “Solid muscle here.” So I’ve been taking the gym a little more seriously these days. My brothers in the Boston area hit the gym every damn morning before the sun rose, and I can’t say I minded the gains. I sit down heavily across from him. “You've got news for me.”
“I do, and it's big, but that can wait. Just tell me this: Was it a wild-goose chase?”
I shake my head. “Fuck no.”
He breathes out through his teeth and leans back in his chair. “I knew it. We’ll talk with the lads when we have a proper meeting, aye?”
“Aye. So I hear Ashland's got a girl? The Priest himself?”
Seamus bursts out laughing. “Fell like a lovesick fool. Never saw that coming, but good for him. He's loyal. And it'll be good for all of us.”
I lean back in the chair. I’ve missed being here. I want to know everything. “Why?”
“Keeps him grounded. Solidifies the family.”
Seamus's father, my uncle Keenan, drilled it into all of our heads from the time we were boys—the necessity of marriage. A wife. Not just to have connections to others, but for children, an old-fashioned model our parents held to and expect us to.
I can still hear my father's voice like it was yesterday. Every child we bring into the McCarthy family line is like another root in a tree. Strengthens us.
We'd all known the expectations from the beginning: Stay loyal, get married and have children, and don’t fuck up.
“Ashland was never the same after Donovan…” I trail off. Hell, none of us were. No one wants to see a brother turn. No one wants to be the one to punish him for it. Donovan's betrayal left invisible scars on every one of us.
“Aye.” Were any of us?
“You know Erin's having the baby soon?” Seamus says with a smile.
“Aye, of course.” And just like that, I think of Bridget.
I always think of Bridget.
Beautiful, impossible Bridget—long hair, spitfire eyes, and that laugh she has that makes a room feel warmer without her even trying. The way she never quite fit the mold the world tried to press her into, and never seemed to lose sleep over it either.
And after all this time, I still can't decide whether that's the thing I love most about her or the thing that kept me up at night.
What's she like these days? Is she happy? Is she seeing somebody who deserves her in all the ways I never could?
Did she ever go back to the club? Did she get her wish?
I hope she did. I hope she got every single thing she wanted.
But I can't think of her now.
“Everyone must be happy,” I say noncommittally, not wanting to let a single suggestion of anything to do with Bridget creep into my voice.
“Aye,” he says with a smile.
I lean forward. “Let me tell you about Boston. They've been building for years. Patient. Men, money, planning routes to Dublin that didn't exist eighteen months ago and now do.”
“Aye.”
“And Donovan was the useful idiot. They needed a local face. He provided one.”
“Aye. Padraic Kavanagh likely thought they'd win,” he says. “Looked at everything we'd built. Everything we gave him. Used his daughters.”
“Right. Decided Boston was the safer investment.”
I hate this about Bridget’s parents. She deserves better.
“The Boston contingent’s calling it reparations,” Seamus continues. “Old grievances, old losses, a debt we apparently owe them for something that happened before half of us were born.”
“And we owe them nothing.”
“Not a penny. Not a square meter.” His jaw tightens.
“But they're not asking anymore, Seamus. They're moving men. Into Ireland. This isn't a negotiation. It's an invasion,” I say.
A muscle tics in his jaw. “I know. I need to make some calls. And it’s best if we’re proactive. I have some ideas, but I want your report on my desk by tomorrow morning. Yeah?”
“Aye.” I swallow hard.
He looks at me across the table, his fingers steepled. “You know the time for you to fulfill your promise is imminent. But I have a way that could put all our fears to rest.”
I knew we’d get there eventually. I just hadn't expected it this quickly. But it'll be fine. I'll do what I promised. I’ll fall on the proverbial fucking sword because that’s what we do for the sake of family and loyalty and keeping the people we care about safe.