Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 126485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
I was sure he could help me if that was what he wanted and what served his interests. But what if Lorcan was somehow involved? He was part of the underworld where Imogen disappeared.
Gaining Lorcan’s trust might bring me closer to Imogen but maybe Desmond could be an option too. I just had to be stealthy about it.
I had warned Seamus not to go overboard with my stag party. It was only two days before the wedding and though we all had a high tolerance for alcohol, I didn’t want to knock myself out completely.
I sat at my chaotic desk in the small office in our warehouse at the docks when Seamus and Timothy came in with smiles that meant trouble. Leaning back, I narrowed my eyes. “I warned you. If you have any plans to dress me up in a fucking Borat costume or chaps with my bare ass hanging out, I’ll throw you to the bottom of a gravel container.”
Seamus exchanged a look with Timothy. “I told you that’s what he’d say.”
“I mean it.”
“We know,” Timothy said in a gruff voice. “But today’s plans aren’t our responsibility.”
“They’re not?” I asked doubtfully. My eyes slid to a tall, dark blond head appearing behind my two friends.
“What’s taking you so long?”
Surprise washed over me. “Aran.”
Aran was two years younger than me, the brother closest to me in age. He wasn’t as bulky, more the decathlete than the heavy-weight boxer, and his eyes were blue like our father’s. We didn’t share many physical traits, but our tempers were similar.
“Lorcan,” Aran said with a broad smile. I rose from my chair, came around the desk, and pulled my brother into a hug, clapping his shoulder. I hadn’t seen him in close to a year. I pulled back. “What happened to your baby face?” I asked, inspecting the five -o’clock shadow on his chin and cheeks. I’d never seen him not shaven.
Aran rubbed his hand over his face. “I’m going for the scruffy look, like you.”
“Are you the only one?” I asked, glancing through the glass window in my door, but the hall was vacant.
“Everyone’s outside waiting for you.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t overdo it. I don’t care if it’s tradition or not.”
“Shut up and get going,” Aran muttered.
I sent Timothy and Seamus another warning look. It was impossible to threaten my brother but those two should know better than to have any embarrassing plans for me. Aran wouldn’t be the problem, but I was worried about the twins’ involvement. If they were here, things would escalate.
I followed Timothy, Seamus and Aran through the warehouse then outside to an waiting Hummer stretch limousine. “Going all-in with the American lifestyle?”
Aran shrugged. “Not my idea.”
“Of course not.”
The door to the limousine swung open and our youngest brother, twin number two and the main reason why Caden and Callahan were known as TNT among our men—they were an equally explosive combination—poked out his blond head. He flashed a grin at me that would have made his dentist proud, all those perfect pearly white teeth.
“The star of the show.”
“No show, no embarrassing shit, Caden, or I swear I’m going to whip your ass like you’re still five.”
“In his mind he still is,” Callahan commented as he appeared beside his twin brother in the door of the car. His hair had a touch of red, pretty much the only thing that distinguished the two from each other, at first glance.
“You’re not much better.”
“I thought you’d be less grumpy considering our rare family reunion!” Caden jumped down and strode over to me. He jerked me into a hug and smelled of alcohol.
“I see you got the party started without me.”
“One shot to test the quality,” Callahan said before he, too, hugged me.
“Speaking of a family reunion, it’s not one as long as Balor’s not here.”
Caden raised his eyebrows and tilted his head.
I froze and glanced at Aran. “Balor’s not here, right?”
“He is,” Balor drawled from somewhere inside the car then louder, “We’re paying per the hour, so how about you stop wasting time?”
With a grin, I climbed inside the limo. It was huge with a full-stacked bar to the right and comfy leather seats all around. The floor was covered in dark green carpet and the bar glowed an eerie green too. Green dots of light danced all around the car.
Balor, in a dark suit, coat and Budapest shoes, sat in a corner with his usual stoic expression.
“You’re here,” I said, still in shock. My brother rarely left Ireland, or his manor, except when business required it.
“Consider it my wedding gift. Flights cost an arm and a leg.”
“For fuck’s sake, Balor, you swim in fucking money, stop bitching,” Aran said.
“You’re not hiding Father somewhere in a surprise cake, right?”
Balor shook his head when he finally stopped scowling at Aran. “You know Father’s aversity to America. He’ll congratulate you when you marry again in our manor as is tradition.”