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)
“What are you waiting for, Lorcan?”
“We’re expecting visitors at seven. I want them to witness Rody’s talents.”
Timothy glanced between me and Seamus then seemed to decide he didn’t want to be involved and stalked over to where a forklift brought in a smaller container.
“Let me guess, the Killeen girl?”
“And Gulliver. I feel like he needs reminding of who’s boss on this side of the clouds.”
Seamus looked at me for a few heartbeats. “You’re going to do something that’s going to make your father really unhappy.”
“That’s my job, Seamus. But I’m bringing justice to our clan.”
“Don’t tell me you’re—”
“…going to marry a Killeen, in good family tradition, only she won’t be running off.”
“How did you get her to agree? Did you blackmail her? Or did you promise her something in turn?”
“She hasn’t said yes yet but I’m sure she will tonight.”
Seamus shook his head with a chuckle. He nudged his steel-toed boot against the dock worker. “Not a good day to be on Lorcan’s bad side.”
My eyes roamed over to one of the steel chains we used to position crates inside the containers. “Rody might not get his turn today. I feel like drawing the show out a little for my future wife.”
Since Uncle Gulliver didn’t have a car, we took a taxi and arrived at the docks around quarter to seven. A cool breeze carried over from the Hudson as we got out of the car, the scent of ship fuel and water lay in the air. But I missed the familiar scent of the Liffey. Dublin’s harbor wasn’t a place where I felt comfortable, but this right here, with the skyscrapers and the nervous energy of the too-big city made me want to take flight. A jungle of shipping containers cast their shadows upon us. I rubbed my arms. It was colder than expected. I should have packed a jacket, but I’d already fretted far too long over what to wear for the occasion. Which outfit said “no thank you”? What kind of dress would maybe even make Lorcan reconsider his decision to ask me in the first place?
I’d opted for a long flowery skirt, a white tank top and a cardigan that I’d stuffed into the waistband of the skirt. I felt good in the outfit, comfortable, and considering that Lorcan would be doing his best to unsettle me, feeling confident was of utmost importance. I would stand by my decision.
Uncle Gulliver led me toward a warehouse at the very end of the dock. He became tenser the closer we got to the two men standing guard in front of the wide steel door. Both of them carried machine guns and had tattoos of clovers, Gaelic crosses, and Gaelic quotes all over their exposed arms.
They nodded at Gulliver and barely glanced my way before opening the door.
The air was colder inside the warehouse, which seemed impossible. More men walked around inside, carrying wooden crates or stuffing bags with white powder into other crates. I quickly looked away. I didn’t want to know about any of this. I wanted a normal, boring life, and once I found Imogen, I planned to return to exactly that: my old boring life in Dublin, minus Patrick.
Unfortunately, Lorcan seemed to have every intention to prevent that. I still held hope that he was only toying with me, trying to punish me with this stupid prank. Gulliver and I turned the corner of several wooden crates stacked on top of each other.
And there he was. For the first time, he wasn’t wearing a suit.
Lorcan Devaney was a beast of a man, and today he looked it even more. No other words would have done him justice. He was tall, almost two meters, with dark-brown hair and sideburns, and a rough five -o’clock shadow on his cheeks and chin. He had the keen eyes of a hunting dog. I’d once seen a pack of them on the fox hunt in the Irish countryside. They had been out for blood, with only one focus in mind: to find and kill the fox. Lorcan was wearing a white wifebeater, revealing muscled arms and dark chest hair.
In his big hands he held a massive steel chain. It dragged over the ground beside his weathered, brown boots. Every clink raised more goose bumps on my skin. My palms became sweaty.
He didn’t bother looking my way, but I knew he noticed my entrance. Lorcan wasn’t a man who missed anything going on around him. This was a show for me. I had no doubt about it.
He stopped in front of a man who was held by two other men; one of them was Seamus, my driver from last night. The other was a sturdy middle-aged man with a shaved head—gorilla guy from church. They released their captive and he folded his hands. I wasn’t sure if he was praying to God or begging Lorcan Devaney. Whichever it was, it didn’t have the intended effect. My eyes widened in shock when Lorcan swung the steel chain and hit the man with it. The man cried out as the chain made impact with his knee, a high-pitched scream not unlike the fox being torn apart by the pack.