by Henry, Jane
He takes a quick shower while we wait for our food, and I nestle under the blankets. I stare at my phone. There are messages in the little icon at the bottom of the screen, but for some reason I can’t even bring myself to look at them. Not now. I anticipate more of the same pity I’d get if I went downstairs.
He comes out of the bathroom with a towel slung about his waist, droplets of water still dotting his muscled, broad shoulders.
I shake my head. “Just so we’re clear, I’m not in the mood for any funny business.” A corner of his lips quirks up.
“You’re adorable, you know that?” He chuckles, muttering under his breath, “funny business.”
I smile shyly. “I just… don’t want you getting the wrong idea, but I did want to admire your manly physique.”
I giggle. “Show off.”
He wiggles his eyebrows and flexes an arm, his bicep bulging. It’s easy to forget this man is a trained killer, one of the most well-respected and most feared in all of Ballyhock. But somehow, as I watch him get dressed for the day, I realize who he is and what he does doesn’t bother me the way it did before. This time, it makes me feel… safe. I’m inside a heavily-guarded home, surrounded by the fierce protection of the Clan, with a man who’d raze full cities to protect me. I know this now.
He winks, just as a knock sounds at the door to signal that our food is here.
“I’ll get that.”
His brows raise, and his voice grows stern. “You’ll stay right there in bed.”
And for once in my life, I do what he tells me.
His gaze warms. “Good girl.”
He brings our food, and I manage to eat a few bites of a scone. The tea tastes delicious, though, piping hot and strong, laced with creamy milk and a dollop of sugar.
“Another, lass?” he says, holding the teapot. I nod, and gratefully drink another full cup.
We stay home from school. We walk along the cliffs that overlook the Irish Sea, and though the pungent salt and biting wind make me shiver, I don’t want to leave. The wildness speaks to a loneliness in my very soul, and I want to stay here forever. But when my fingers are red and my hair a knotted mess, Tully finally takes my hand and makes me go home.
We eat a quiet dinner of the kitchen’s famous stew and crusty bread. Though I pass on the pint of frothy, cold ale, he lets me take liberal sips of his. Finally, I go back to sleep, grateful I can rest again before I do it all over.
“You alright?” Tully asks, in various ways throughout the day, every day.
“Do you need anything?”
“Do you need to talk?”
“Are you okay?”
“What can I do for you?”
For a gruff kind of guy, he has a surprising tender side.
I suspect he fears I’ll need something and somehow he’ll fail to provide exactly what I need. But it’s a bit stifling.
Finally, three days after my miscarriage, one morning I snap.
“Tully, please.”
He looks at me in confusion. “Please what?”
“Please stop hovering like a mother hen.”
He snorts. “I’m hardly hovering like a mother hen, lass. Honestly.”
“You practically help me as I wipe my arse.”
He rolls his eyes. “I don’t.”
But he does. Every time I move, his eyes are on me, watching me.
“You do, though. And I’m fine. It was a terrible experience, and I never want to experience it again, and I have the utmost respect and admiration and empathy for women who have. But honestly? I’m alright.”
He frowns. “Fine. But I’ll tell you this. There are some things I can’t prevent, like… what happened to you.” He can’t even bring himself to say it, and I understand. “But there are some things I can, and I will do whatever is in my control to protect you.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
A muscle ticks in his jaw. “I can protect you here, as mine.”
Neither one of us speaks at first, and the question that comes to my mind now likely comes to his as well.
Am I still his now that I no longer carry his baby? Can he still claim me the way he said he would?
“Well,” I say tightly, unable to really be as nonchalant as I’d intended. “If it makes you feel any better, then… fine.”
He stands with his hands on his hips, glaring at me. “Fine?”
“Right, then. Fine.” I mutter under my breath, the natural instinct to push him away resurfacing. I don’t want to. I don’t even like that I respond this way, but there are times when closeness and vulnerability scare the hell out of me. I turn away from him, muttering under my breath, “If this isn’t the most riveting conversation I’ve ever had…”
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch his eyes narrow and his lips thin. I turn and walk away. I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t know what to say. Something deep inside me feels broken and unhinged, but I don’t know what it is or how to begin to fix it.
I get ready for the day, but can’t find anything to wear.
“Tully.”
“Yes?”
“I… have to go home,” I say haltingly. I’m not sure why I’m insisting on this. Sometimes, my actions and words don’t make sense even to me. But for some reason, I have to this time.
“All my things are there.”
I need to push. I need to feel some control, some autonomy over my life again, now that so much is uncertain.
He shrugs. “I’ll have them brought here. Should’ve already fucking done that.”
I blow out a breath. “I don’t want them brought here. I want to get them myself.”
He gives me a curious look. “Very well, then. I’ll take you after I finish today’s job.” Will I get any space or privacy at all? And what’s his “job?”
“What’s that? What do you have to do?”
He rolls his eyes at me. “You know I can’t tell you that, McKenna.”
“Does it involve me?”
He doesn’t answer. Bloody hell.
I step into a pair of flats, mulling over what he’s said, when someone knocks on the door.
“I’ll get it,” I tell him. He stands in the doorway, adjusting his belt, and watches me answer the door.
“Look through the peephole,” he orders, his tone tight and angry.
“Naturally.” I roll my eyes, but he doesn’t see. Why would I open the door and not look through the peephole? He mutters something under his breath, and I swear he’s looking for another excuse to smack my arse. A part of me almost wishes he would. He’s been treating me like I’m broken, or like he’ll break me, and although I appreciated it at first, now it’s driving me fucking mad.
“It’s just Caitlin,” I say. I open the door.
“Hey there.”
“McKenna,” she says, her voice laced with concern. She’s the kindest woman here, so gentle and maternal. “How are you?”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Better,” I whisper. “You?”
She reaches for my hand and gives me a little squeeze. “Oh, I’m good. You know, I’ve been in this exact position before.” Her eyes grow cloudy.
“Have you? Come in, Caitlin.” I don’t want to stand here in the doorway talking about this.
“Aye,” she says. “And thanks for that, but I have to get back downstairs. I came up to ask you if you’d like to join me and the girls for a bit of shopping in town? Mary’s going back to Scotland soon, and we want to enjoy some time with her before she goes.”
“Oh. Oh, right.”
Mary’s spent time with my mum.
“We’d like your company,” Caitlin says with a smile.
I long for some companionship right now, and I’ve come to love the women of the Clan. They’re smart and witty, and they all share a common love for the brutal men of the Irish mob. It’s built an undeniable camaraderie among them, and I long to be a part of it.
I need to be able to rely on someone. To confide in someone
who isn’t Tully.
“Where are you going?” Tully stands in the doorway, and he doesn’t look too pleased.
“Oh, we’ll get lunch at D’Agostino’s and do some shopping at the little shops in town.”
Tully shakes his head. “And your men are okay with this?”
Caitlin blinks. “Keenan said yes, if we take a guard. He’s sent his best. Aileen is with us, and Megan and Fiona.”
He shakes his head. “Not sure I’m alright with it.”
I feel my jaw drop. “Tully, seriously?”
Is he really the one that has this say?
He shakes his head. “You’re not three days away from… that incident,” he says, his eyes clouding. “The doctor said you needed to rest.”
“And the doctor said I needed to be sure I don’t fall into depression over the whole damn thing,” I snap. “Seems going with the girls to do some shopping might be just the ticket.”
He crosses his arms and scowls. “No.”
“No? And I’m supposed to just listen to you? As if you’re my fucking father?”
“Oh, goodness,” Caitlin says behind me. “I shouldn’t have come. So sorry, McKenna, I don’t want to cause any trouble between you two.”
“Oh, you’re not the one causing trouble.” I glare right back at him.
What am I doing here? Why have I come? This is absolute bullshit.
A child we shared… that brought us together, and I would even go so far as to say united us. But now that there is no baby…
“I’ll be going,” Caitlin says.
I turn to her. “I’m going with you.”
She shakes her head sadly. “Sorry, McKenna, but no. Keenan wouldn’t want me encouraging you to do anything against what Tully says.”
“Are you serious?” My temper’s at full throttle. “This is absolute rubbish!”
Caitlin only smiles sadly and takes her leave. I hear the other women chattering downstairs, and slam the door as hard as I can. I feel like a child who’s just been punished.
I spin around to find Tully giving me a look I normally heed.
“I can’t believe you did that.” I can’t believe I’m so angry at something so small. I mean, the truth is, I don’t even want to go shopping. It’s just the whole principle of the thing.
If I thought my anger at him would soften him in the least, I’m definitely mistaken. “And I can’t believe you thought it okay, when you’re recovering, and there are men on the loose, to go into town at all. I’m honestly fucking pissed Keenan even thought it alright with a guard.”
“Well, why don’t we know who’s pursuing me, then? Hmm?”
I ask the question pointedly.
“Oh, we have every intention of pursuing every possible avenue,” he says, frowning. “Only you wouldn’t know that since you’re not there, are you?”
“Are you blaming me for not spying?” My words sound ludicrous even to my own ears.
He pushes off the wall and prowls over to me, his eyes never leaving mine. My heartbeat accelerates, but I don’t stop fighting. I need to do this.
I want to shove him. I want to slap him. I want to haul back and take off so he can’t catch me.
And a part of me wants him to stop me.
As he nears, I feel his heat and the intensity of his gaze. He wouldn’t punish me when I was pregnant, but now… now will he hesitate?
“You don’t speak to me that way, McKenna,” he growls in my ear, and goddamn, my heartbeat accelerates. His deep voice comes to my ear, and I squirm a little.
He wraps his hand around my waist and pulls me to him. “You’re a very bad little girl,” he chides. “Aren’t you?”
I shrug. Two can play at this game. “I think I’m a very good girl.”
He cups my arse and squeezes hard. I push him away. I’m not sure why. But suddenly, the room feels too hot, we’re too close, and it feels damn near stifling. I can’t stand this.
“Just let me go,” I say, turning away from him. “Tully, I—this isn’t for me. None of it.”
He reaches for my chin, but I jerk my head away. “I don’t belong here. I thought when I was pregnant that I did. I thought maybe, just maybe, we could somehow make this work. But…”
My voice trails off. I’m not capable of loving a man like him. I’m not sure I’m capable of loving anyone at all.
I pull into myself and turn my back to him.
“McKenna,” he says, his voice gentling. “If this is about shopping, I’ll go with you, lass.”
I shake my head. Is it about the shopping? No. No, it isn’t the shopping at all.
“No,” I say, my voice sounding hollow and distant. I hate the feeling in my chest, this terrible gnawing feeling. “It’s about so much more than that. We fight.”
He reaches for me. “Everyone fights.”
“Not like us.” I give him a plaintive look, and he only stares at me.
“I don’t know if I belong here as a woman of the Clan. I teach at the school, aye, but that doesn’t mean I belong there either.”
He sighs and shakes his head. “None of us really belong anywhere, McKenna. We’re all just nomads, looking for a place to rest a while, aren’t we?”
I shake my head. “Not so, Tully. You aren’t. You have a family here with the brotherhood. You’re a respected member of the Clan. They love you, they really do.”
He holds me to him “And they love you.”
I shake my head. “They’re polite to me. They would’ve welcomed my baby, and for that I’ll be eternally grateful. As far as everything else… I don’t know.”
They don’t even know me. These men are criminals. Their wives know and condone this. Can I reconcile that?
Yes, a part of me begs. Yes, even as my logical brain tells me no.
“So this is it?” he asks, his eyes looking so angry I almost feel as if he’s accusing me of something.
“What?”
“This is what you think of us? That the only thing holding us together was a baby?”
When he puts it that way it sounds terrible. Shallow, even, and I hate shallow. Jesus.
His phone rings, and he points his finger at me. “Stay right there.” He answers the phone.
“Keenan?” He scrubs a hand through his salt and pepper hair.
“Bloody hell,” he mutters. He cups the mouthpiece and hisses, “I’ll be right back.” He heads to the bedroom and closes the door.
And then he’s gone.
But I’m done taking orders from him. I know he wants me safe. But he also wants me here for good, and I can’t agree to something like that. Not now.
Sigh.
Not ever.
I push the door open. The guard’s gone with the other girls, and the hallway looks oddly vacant, like the empty eyes of a corpse. Am I crazy?
I wonder if I lost my mind when I lost the baby. I’m not used to seeing it so empty here, so vacant. The door clicks behind me. He doesn’t follow, and a part of me wishes he did.
Where am I going? I’ve got clothes and I’ll bring my cats back to my little flat. I tell myself I just need a walk. I need to clear my mind. Between being back with Tully, the scare of the pregnancy, and then the devastating loss, meeting Mary… things have been harder than they have been in a really long time.
I need a break. I need to clear the air. I’m sort of glad I didn’t go with the girls, for I’m glad for the break from all people of the Clan.
My phone rings and I shove it in my pocket. I’m going for a walk in the garden. Maybe I’ll go even further.
Lachlan’s standing in the foyer of the mansion, his hands shoved in his pockets. “Hey there, Mary,” he says absentmindedly.
“I’m not Mary,” I say with a smile. “It’s McKenna.”
His head snaps up and he blinks. “Jesus, it is you. I’m sorry, we were up all night with the baby. Just couldn’t get him to sleep at all.” He frowns. “Sometimes the resemblance between you and Mary’s disconcerting.”
&n
bsp; “Aye, I suppose.” I feel grumpy even with him. If I have to hear one more person tell me Mary looks like me… “Oh, no worries.” I give him a forced smile, and he steps aside.
“You didn’t join the girls in town, then?”
I shake my head.
“You heading outside?”
“Aye.” Honest to God, if I get one more question…
I exit the house and walk toward the gate. Many members of the Clan find their peace at the water’s edge, where the waves lap on shore and or crash against the roughly-hewn rocks. I found it there with Tully the other day. I’ve never ventured there alone.
I walk quickly, for any moment, Tully will get off the phone and realize I’m gone.
Will he come for me? I hope he does. A part of me even hopes he’s rough with me again, that he drags me back in and claims me as his.
Claimed.
Sometimes we just want someone to come to us. Sometimes, we just want to know we matter. And here, I’m misplaced and out of sorts, my mind a jumble of thoughts and confusion.
I walk out the door and head to the water.
* * *
Chapter 15
Tully
“We found something out that may be of interest to you,” Keenan says.
“Aye?”
“Aye. You know when we interrogated the men from the school, one got away?”
I grunt in response.
“Well, the one who got away is none other than Patrick.”
Why does that name ring a bell?
“Who’s that?”
“Tully, he’s McKenna’s ex-boyfriend.”
A chill comes over me. Why would McKenna’s ex-boyfriend be anywhere near us? I want her with me. I want to protect her. But she keeps pushing me away.
Give her time, Maeve said. But I don’t want to. I want to make sure she’s safe. We might be oil and fucking water together, but we understand each other.
“Where is he?”
“No one knows.”
“Jesus Christ, Keenan. Why did you let the girls go shopping?” I don’t like questioning my Chief, and I rarely do it, but this time it can’t be helped. Thank God I didn’t allow her to go. She’s pissed at me, but I don’t regret it. “If he’s at large…”