Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 86360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
He howls, rears back, and whacks her with the butt of his gun across her head. She whimpers but doesn’t release him. I’m blind to anything but killing this man, of releasing my woman and ending the man who hit her. In two strides, I’ve got him by the neck. He’s purple, flailing, when I point my gun at his temple and pull the trigger. He slumps to the ground, and I look up to see Nolan and Cormac with guns to the heads of the two remaining men. The others lie dead.
We’re panting and silent for a moment.
“All Martins?” I ask.
“Aye,” Nolan says.
“Bring them back for questioning.”
Chapter Eighteen
Caitlin
I knew that being with a man like Keenan would mean something like this would happen. I just didn’t know it would be… well, quite like that. I shudder at the memory of the puddles of crimson blood and vacant eyes of the deceased.
When I close my eyes, I see them. When I open my eyes, I see them. I can still taste the metallic blood of the man I bit.
We’re back at the school, and Keenan won’t let me go, even as he issues orders like a drill sergeant. “In the meeting room,” he says. “And I want Lachlan with us.”
“Keenan, he’s a child,” Cormac begins, but Keenan cuts him off.
“The boy needs to earn his spurs. He’s eighteen years old and old enough to drink, old enough to vote. He won’t kill, but he’ll learn to interrogate. Now get him.” I shudder. I’ve been to the interrogation room back at their home, and I can only imagine what sort of wicked things they do.
I don’t know how I feel about him summoning Lachlan. He’s only a boy, and yet… Keenan has a point. They were trained at a young age, and if he’s to learn their code of conduct… still, it troubles me, all of it.
I wish I didn’t like these men, these fierce, vicious men who flaunt the law and dwell in darkness. But I do. Not only do I like them, I have a strange sense I can’t ignore that I’m somehow meant to be here. That I belong. I’ve never even so much as uttered a curse word or driven a car, I’m as naïve as humanly possible, and yet I feel I belong among this family of criminals.
Maybe I’m going mad.
I watch, under Keenan’s protective hold. He’s got me pinned against him so tightly it’s hard to breathe, and yet I need the weight of his arm and strength of his body at my back. I watch as the men drag their prisoners, bloodied and sulking, through the doors of the hall. Just as they bring the men in, one turns his head sharply to me, his eyes wide as if he’s seeing a ghost.
Uh oh.
“Keenan,” I say quietly, as they close the door behind their prisoners. “You need to know… the second one. He recognized me.”
“Aye,” Keenan says, and he seems unperturbed.
“But what if he goes back and—”
He stills, his voice tight and sober, and his stern look darkens. He doesn’t meet my eyes when he mutters, “He won’t be going back, lass.”
Of course not. No, he won’t. A chill runs through me at the realization.
“You’ll wait for me tonight, Cait,” Keenan says, not a question, though there’s a hint of a plea in his voice.
“Of course.”
“I may be a while.” He turns me toward him and kissing the top of my head fiercely.
“Take your time.”
He grabs my chin so tightly I gasp, but I know he isn’t angry with me. Staring into my eyes, I don’t know what he’s trying to see, but I don’t look away. I don’t blink.
“Are y’alright?” he whispers. “You are my brave girl.” His men drag their prisoners to where they want him and rouse those they need. There are phone calls and curses, doors opening and closing, and soon, it’s just the two of us.
“I’m fine,” I lie, my voice tremulous. I’m not fine. I was attacked tonight, I bit a man straight through skin, and the memory makes me want to vomit. But I’ve agreed to marry into this clan, into this vicious group of warriors who surround me like modern-day Vikings. I’ve agreed to become his wife, for my safety and for the safety of all. And for the first time since any of this began, as Keenan’s eyes meet mine, it dawns on me.
My mother was a Martin. My mother was born into a situation just like this. It’s unlike anything I could have ever imagined or wanted, and I know it’s disordered and dangerous. But part of me is proud that I’ve come from sturdy stock, even if her family are rivals to the one I’ll become. Something tells me she’d understand. I never knew my mother, but in that one brief moment in time, I feel as if maybe I understand her. Maybe she’d be proud of me for being brave, as Maeve is.