Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
“Fill me in about what?”
Dermot looks up for the first time. His stare is haunted. “I was right. Shane and Redmond were murdered.”
I have to act surprised, but it’s not hard. I really am shocked he’s just saying it out loud like that. I shake my head like that can’t be true and turn to Dad for confirmation.
He glares back at me. “Listen to your fucking brothers,” he murmurs.
“Dermot’s right. Shane and Red were likely killed.” Mal begins to pace. He lights a cigarette as he goes without bothering to look at Dad for approval. It’s so bizarre I don’t even know how to handle it. “Dermot came to me after Red died. He had some issues with the whole accident theory.”
“Didn’t make sense,” Dermot says, tapping at his laptop.
“That’s what he insisted, anyway, but I tried to reassure him. Who would possibly want to kill our family? We’re at the height of our power. Our enemies are weak and our allies are strong. There’s no way they could get two of our own damn brothers.”
“But they did,” Dermot adds, pausing for a moment. His eyes are hollow. “And they tried to get me, too.”
“This is a lot to take in.” I shake my head and rub my face. “Who did it? Did you go to the police?”
“God, listen to her,” Dad says disdainfully. “The fucking police. As if they could do anything.”
“No, Caroline, we didn’t go to the police. We’re dealing with this in-house.” Mal takes a drag and flicks ash into an empty whiskey bottle. “We don’t know who did it, but Dermot was smart. He seeded some rumors. He put himself out there and set a trap.”
“He paid for shooters without family approval,” Dad snarls, clearly not happy about it.
Dermot ignores them both.
“The attack looked like a robbery. Those happen at high-stakes poker games, especially the shady ones. Except Dermot swears it felt all wrong, and the survivors of the attack all corroborate his story. The robbers weren’t there to steal shit. They were there to kill him.” Mal finishes the cigarette and lights another. He’s practically twitching. “We have assassins coming for us. They poisoned and beat Shane to death. They used a bomb to finish off Redmond. What are they going to do next? Drop a fucking piano on my head?” Mal resumes pacing, faster this time. “Our brothers were fucking brutally murdered, and we don’t even know who did it.”
Two feelings hit me. First, there’s relief. I believe him when he says he doesn’t know. There’s no way they’d put this bit of theater on for my sake. If anyone suspected me, they’d just beat the shit out of me until I confirmed it. But second, a cold, sick, creeping feeling tickles the back of my neck.
This room reeks of paranoia.
Dad’s watching the windows like someone might attack at any second.
Dermot’s smashing at his computer as if he can hack his way into fixing the problem.
And Mal’s unraveling.
I’ve never been in more danger in my life. Even if they don’t suspect me, they’re unhinged and running right against the edge. These men would happily kick me until I’m bloody on a good day. But they’re far from their best right now.
“Then there’s you.” Mal turns to me slowly. He blows out smoke. It hangs like a haze in the air. “You disappeared, Caroline. We needed you here.”
“I was on a trip with my husband. It was a little honeymoon.”
“Must be nice. You two are getting along.” Mal stalks toward me. I back away, hands sweating. I touch the phone in my pocket, heart racing into my throat. “But he’s not really fucking family.”
“We’re in trouble, and you weren’t around to help.” Dad’s staring death at me.
Mal jabs his cigarette in my direction. “You’re a loose fucking end. You’re a goddamn liability. Why the fuck are you still alive, but Shane and Redmond aren’t?” He jerks toward me. I shriek in alarm when he grabs my arm. The cigarette darts down, arcing through the air toward my skin—
I catch his wrist with my other hand. I’m not strong enough to stop him, but I think he’s so surprised he stops himself. I’ve never stood up to Mal, not once in my entire life, but I lean into him now and meet his gaze, lips pulled back in a snarl.
“Careful, you asshole. You almost burned me.”
“I’m going to do worse, you uppity, worthless bitch.”
“Yeah? What do you think my husband will say about that?”
He pauses. For the first time, Mal seems uncertain. “What’s he got to do with any of this?”
“You think my husband won’t notice bruises? Burn marks? You think I won’t tell him? He’s a Whelan, you idiot. So go ahead, put that cigarette out on my skin. If you were worried before, you sure as shit will be terrified then.”