Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83384 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83384 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
“Son of a bitch,” my brother says. “My father texted me. Says the Chief wants a late night meeting of all, here.”
No.
That means that any moment, this hall will be filled with Martin soldiers, including my father. I tremble, listening to the sound of their fading voices, and as soon as I feel they’re far enough out, I run.
My bag thumps on my leg and slips off my shoulder as I run, the gun pointed at the floor so I don’t accidentally shoot someone. Though I know how to, I’ve never actually done it with real people involved.
A door behind me opens, and I hear more voices. The men are coming. They’ve heard the summons, and they’re answering. I get to the end of the hall and head down the narrow staircase that leads to the main floor. I’ll leave by the kitchen exit. It’s safest. Thankfully, the men are preoccupied with Martin’s summons, for no one’s nearby. I run so hard I get a stitch in my side, and I can hardly breathe. I get to the kitchen and yank open the door to the garage.
I come face to face with my brother Blaine.
He takes it all in in seconds, his instincts primed and ready. My startled expression. The gun in my hand. The bag on my shoulder. And just as recognition dawns on him and his gaze darkens, he reaches for me. With a scream, I pull the trigger. He howls and grabs at his shoulder. I’m astonished and nauseated when bright red blood stains the white t-shirt he wears. But I have to get away. I shove past him, run to my car that’s thankfully at the very end of the driveway, yank open the door, and toss my bag in as the blare of gunshots ring out. In his anger, he’s shooting after me.
My brother stumbles after me, leaving a bloody trail behind him, shouting, but they can’t stop me now. The men are on their way to the meeting, so fewer guards are around than usual, and at least one is still hopefully incapacitated and arse-up on the floor of my room.
No one stops me. No one shoots at me. My brother shakes his fist from the garage, and reaches for his phone. My window is short, only inches of runway before me.
I fly.
Chapter 3
Cormac
My mother stands beside me, straightening my tie, before she pins a white rose on my lapel. She’s got more gray in her red hair than she did last year, her eyes a bit sadder. But she’s a strong woman, and she’s ready to stand by our sides. Dressed in a lovely gown, she’s ready to face the day.
“You look so handsome, Cormac,” she says, with a wistful smile. “You all do. Your father would be proud.”
He would be. I woke today knowing by tonight I’d be a married man. I’m ready to face whatever comes. No matter who she is. No matter how this turns out. I’ll be the man of the house, as I’ve been taught.
“He’d be proud of many things,” Keenan says. Normally a humble man, his chest fairly expands with pride as he tucks the wee baby wrapped in his arms, sound asleep and swaddled in a soft blue blanket, to his chest.
“Aye,” mam says. “He would.” She pats my chest, approving of the finishing touch. “How’s Caitlin?”
“Very good,” Keenan says. “I wanted to keep her home today, but she insisted she come, so I allowed it.”
“Good girl,” mam says. “She’s a strong one, that woman of yours.”
“Aye,” Keenan says with a wry smile. “Says someone told her it’s customary for the women of the Clan to greet the new woman.”
“’Tis,” mam says. She walks to Keenan and holds her arms out for the baby. She takes wee Seamus in her arms, my dad’s namesake, and rocks him, though the lad’s already asleep. “Caitlin’ll be fine, son. She had a baby, not open heart surgery.”
Keenan’s gaze darkens. “You say that as if it’s nothing.”
She smiles. “I wouldn’t say nothing, but your lass is made of sterner stuff. She’ll want to be there, and I bet she’ll come looking pretty as can be.”
Keenan doesn’t let mam butter him up, but only grunts.
“Who’s a good little boy,” she croons to the sleeping baby. “Who knows his Granny?” The worry lines often knit between Keenan’s brows soften a bit, and for the first time since the idea about my wedding came about, I look forward to it.
I’m to take a wife and raise a family. I’m ready for the job.
I scrub a hand across my brow, trying to shake off the night before. Boner and Tully, led by Nolan, came to my room and half-dragged me off to the pub for several rounds. My last night as a bachelor, they said. Keenan joined us.