Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“The weather’s bad. It’s so muggy. How about we walk around the office?”
I cross my arms, struggling not to lash out at him. My jaw works for a moment as I consider what to say. “Cormac spoke to you, didn’t he?”
“Look, he’s just concerned, okay?”
“Oh, my fucking god.” I turn on my heel and march out.
“Wait, hold on.” Finn catches up with me. “I can’t just let you leave the office. I promised him I’d keep an eye on you.”
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Well, you did nearly get shot.”
I glare at him. “Thanks for the reminder, asshole. As if the nightmare I had last night about it weren’t bad enough.”
He has the good grace to look a little guilty. “You understand why he’s trying to protect you, right? I know Cormac can be a little over the top. Trust me, I’ve known the guy my whole life. He’s a little nuts. But he means well.”
We reach the lobby and I hesitate in front of the elevators. “Does he really?” I ask, turning on him. “Does he actually mean well, or is this just some sort of game he likes playing?”
Finn’s eyebrows raise. “Are you asking if he thinks watching you nearly get killed is fun?”
“No, not that. I mean the whole overprotective husband thing. What’s his deal anyway? Why’d he take your spot?”
Finn glances to the side. I can tell the question makes him uncomfortable.
But whatever, I don’t care if he doesn’t want to think about it. I need to get a better sense of my husband, and talking to his brother is a good way to do it.
“Honestly I don’t know why he wanted to marry you,” he finally admits. “I’ve never seen Cormac care about someone like that before. I mean, he takes the family seriously and I think he’d die for any one of us, but never a stranger. Someone on the outside.”
I’m not a stranger though. I don’t know how much he knows about my ghost situation, and I’m afraid to bring it up in case Cormac’s never spoken about it to his brothers. I keep thinking about the way my husband keeps flirting with admitting that he’s been stalking me, like it’s some kind of hilarious little secret we have between us.
“How about we make a deal.”
Finn crosses his arms. “I’m listening.”
“I’m going to that bodega. But I’m also running an errand.” I hold up a finger. “You can come, but you have to tell me more about Cormac.”
He rubs a hand across his cheek. “What kind of errand?”
“Take it or leave it.” I jab at the elevator button. Mercifully, it opens right away. I step inside and give him a smile. “I’m leaving now.”
“Fuck,” he says with a sigh and follows me. “You’ve got a deal.”
“You do realize your husband’s rich, right?” Finn follows me into the thrift store. It’s a surprisingly big storefront with racks of clothes up front, home goods in the middle, and furniture toward the back. He’s carrying our lunch in a plastic bag.
“I’m aware.” I lead him through the rows, ignoring the other shoppers, and start to browse the chairs and couches. “What was it like growing up with Cormac?”
Finn sighs, obviously annoyed about this whole situation. “I don’t know. He’s almost ten years older than me.”
“Really?”
“I’m twenty-nine. He’s thirty-eight. That’s a pretty big gap. Mostly he ignored me. I was closer with Seamus.”
“But you two did grow up together.”
“Cormac’s always been in his own little world. He’d disappear for hours at a time, and my parents would have to send us out into the neighborhood to bring him back. I remember once we found him in a park like twelve blocks away, sitting on the swings and throwing woodchips at pigeons. He was probably fifteen. I was six or something like that, just tagging along with Seamus and our oldest brother, Declan.”
“That must be a pretty early memory.”
“I guess so.” Finn frowns, arms crossed and watching as I run my fingers along a bed frame. “Cormac was just odd. Not malicious. Not unkind. But strange. I don’t remember him talking much. But by the time I was old enough to understand he was different, he was already joining the family business.”
“Really? At twenty?”
Finn snorts, nodding. “I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t a part of the life. We did little shit back when we were kids, like running messages and tailing after our dad, but yeah. That’s always been the way things were.”
“When did he become, you know—” I lower my voice. “The ghostman?”
Finn grunts and rubs the back of his head. “Later on. I was fifteen, I think, and still in high school. He’d been having some problems around the family. Mom never really gave me the details. But I remember seeing him with black eyes, broken noses, all beat up and shit like he’d been getting into fights. I don’t know when Dad officially named him our Ghost. I just sort of became aware of it one day.”