Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 78773 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78773 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Keenan looks back at me. “I’ll say it one more time, once and for all, Carson.” He pauses, his words slow and deliberate, each enunciated clearly like he’s speaking to a small child. “You. Are. McCarthy. Family.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Aye,” I say, my voice a little husky. “Thank you, brother.”
Father Finn sits quietly, watching all. “Keenan,” he says, when the room has quieted.
Keenan looks at him and nods. “Aye?”
“You might speak to your mother about this.”
Keenan’s brow furrows. “Come again, Father?”
“Your mam,” he says. “I believe you might find she sheds light on this that might change things.”
Again, the bloody priest and his cryptic messages.
“Nothing you can’t tell us, then, Father?” I ask, my voice tight with anger. If he has something to say, he can bloody well say it.
But he shakes his head. “It isn’t my story to tell, Carson,” he says placidly, closing his eyes while he brings his fingertips together, the picture of peace. “And I don’t want to speak out of turn.” He opens his eyes. “In this particular instance, I don’t have facts to share so much as I have a few suspicions, based on rumor and hearsay. But I think it worth pursuing.”
Keenan nods. “Will do, Father. Thank you.” The firm tone of his voice silences me. “And now,” Keenan begins. “Where does this leave us? Carson, summarize what you have to tell us.”
“I suspected Eve’s death was no accident,” I tell them. I pause and look to Keenan. “What will you have me tell them?”
Keenan nods. “Everything.”
And so I do. I tell them how I’ve been spying on the O’Gregors for months, trying to see who was behind Eve’s death. How the O’Gregors have come to trust me, the steps I’ve taken, how my steps are flawless. That they don’t know where I am. And how it all adds up now.
“They killed my woman,” I tell them. I let the words settle like nightfall before I continue. “And by Clan law, that affords me retaliation. In addition, we know that they’re coming for us in retaliation of the death a few weeks back.”
“Right,” Cormac says. “So, we go to war.”
We haven’t been at war with a rival clan in years. In fact, much of our interaction with rivals in recent years has been with the express intention of avoiding war. When Clans war, lives are lost. And despite who we are and what we do, we avoid Clan war because it’s so out of our control, with the almost certain loss of the lives of our own.
We form our plan, where we’ll go, how we’ll station ourselves. It’ll be bloody messy, and I watch as Keenan paces the room.
Will we lose anyone? Who will die in clan war?
And then I realize, I’ve brought all of this on us. If I hadn’t killed the man in Stone City, the O’Gregors never would’ve wanted retaliation.
If Eve hadn’t spied on us… if I hadn’t been the fucking bastard son of O’Gregor…
Thank Christ Megan is safe. When this is all over… when the dust has settled… I will set things to right.
So I listen to their plans, but I know. This is my battle to fight.
Chapter 16
Megan
Fiona comes when I call her, though she looks as if she’s going to lose her lunch at the mere suggestion that she help me sidetrack my guard. But Jesus, I’m not a captive, I’m not a child, and if I want to go as I please, I will.
When I tell her what’s happening, her eyes grow impossibly wider, and she puts her hand over her mouth. “Mother of God, Megan,” she says. “Are you out of your mind, woman?”
“Is it that ridiculous to want to be able to leave my own fucking bedroom?” I ask her.
She shrugs. “When you’re told by one of the brothers to stay here? And they put a guard on you? Yes.”
I grit my teeth. “You owe me, Fiona.”
“Aye, I do,” she says earnestly. “But if they find out you’ve escaped…” her voice trails off. “If they find out I helped…”
“What will they do? I’m not the wife to any of them,” I say with a toss of my head. “And neither are you.” I know I’m putting unfair pressure on her, though, and I feel guilty about it.
“I may not be a wife, but you know Lachlan keeps a close eye on me, don’t you?” she asks. She bites her lip and her cheeks flush a bit when she says this, as if it’s the first time she’s admitted this out loud. Aw, hell, it probably is.
“I do.”
“I daresay he’s the strictest of the lot,” she says with a sigh. “Loses his mind if I drive too fast, don’t buckle my seatbelt. I mean he damn near cuts my food up on my plate for me into tiny bites so I don’t choke.” She rolls her eyes, though she isn’t fooling me. She loves the attention, and I know it. Plus, she’s being a little melodramatic. I don’t mind, though. I was the same at her age.