Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 120240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
“You met Bridget,” she says haltingly. “Do you remember, at our engagement party turned wedding… when I met Dr. Rosenberg?”
“Aye.” I cross my arms over my chest and nod. “Of course I do.”
“I knew about him and his treatments because Dr. Rosenberg is one of the few people… maybe the only one… who can help my sister.”
“What?” I stand up straighter.
“Yes,” she says. She sighs and blows out a breath. “I didn’t want you to think I was using you.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Okay?”
“He wouldn’t have anything to do with my family. We tried. My father tried to send him money. Tried to bribe him to treat my sister. But he said that there are rules and regulations and whatnot, you know, with the free healthcare system. He has a two-year waiting list.”
Her eyes water, and she blinks. A fat tear rolls down her cheek.
“And we don’t…” She clears her throat and swallows hard. “We don’t have two years. Right. So my hope was that you would talk to him. Maybe use the connection that you have. Pull some strings, Cavin, and have Bridget seen by Dr. Rosenberg.”
She pauses, meeting my eyes with a fierce determination that’s wet with tears. “And I don’t know what else I can offer you, but I do have…” She clears her throat. “Seventy-two thousand quid that I’ve turned into two million.”
She eyes me, defiant and desperate all at once. She’s taken my purses, my winnings, and gambled with them.
“Is that how your brain works, Erin?” I ask, stunned.
“Aye,” she says. “It’s something my parents don’t know. Because if they knew I had the ability to gamble and make money, they would have used me as a bargaining chip much sooner than they did.”
“Holy Christ.” I shake my head. “That’s bloody brilliant.”
She shrugs. “I may not have been the popular one in secondary school,” she says quietly, “but I would definitely be the popular one in our circles now.”
I grin at her. She’s full of surprises. “You beautiful, frustrating thief. Of course we’ll call Dr. Rosenberg. You save that money. Save it for Bridget. Invest it. Do whatever. We’ll pay him. He owes us a favor. anyhow.”
“He does?” More tears. I know that I tore her wide open emotionally. That she’s vulnerable and susceptible to this, but I didn’t expect—
“Aye,” I say, kneeling down beside her. I cup her face in my hands, thumbs brushing away the tears. “This is going to work out. You’ll look over the information that Declan sent. You’ll find out who’s behind this. Right? And then we’ll destroy them. Together.”
“Cavin.” Her voice breaks.
“Right. And I’ll make sure—can we save her, d’you think?”
She blinks, her lower lip trembling. “I don’t know, but if there’s anyone who could, it’s him.”
“Excellent.”
Now it’s her phone ringing.
“Why doesn’t anyone give us a moment’s peace? Honest to fucking Christ,” I say, rolling my eyes skyward. Then her brow furrows, and she stares at the phone.
“It’s Mam. She never calls me, especially this late.”
Dread pools in my stomach. “Answer it, lass,” I say. “Wait, I’ll answer it. I know your hands are wet. Hold it up. Put it on speaker?”
She nods. I answer the phone and put it on speaker.
“Erin?” Her mother's voice is tight, strained. Wrong.
“I'm here, Mam.” Erin's is steady, but I can see her knuckles going white where she grips the edge of the tub.
“It's Bridget.” A pause, and I hear Tara Kavanagh draw a shaky breath. “She's collapsed. We're at the hospital now. They've got her in ICU, and the doctors are saying—” Her voice breaks. “They're saying it's worse than before. Much worse.”
“No.” The word comes out of Erin like she's been punched.
“Can you come? Please? She's asking for you.”
Erin's already trying to stand, water sloshing everywhere. I grab a towel and wrap it around her, holding her steady because she's shaking so badly I'm afraid she'll fall.
“I'm coming,” Erin says.
The line goes dead.
Erin stares at the phone in my hand like it's a weapon. Then she makes this sound—this horrible, broken sound that tears something in my chest.
“I need to—I have to—” She's trying to move, but she can't seem to make her body work properly.
“Easy, love. Easy.” I guide her out of the bath, keeping the towel wrapped around her. “I've got you. We'll get you dressed, and I'll drive you there.”
“The tribute—” She gasps. “We were supposed to find—”
“Fuck the tribute.” The words come out hard, fierce. “Your sister comes first. Always.”
She looks up at me then, and Christ, the devastation in her eyes nearly brings me to my knees.
“She can't die, Cavin. She's twenty-two. She's my baby sister. She can't—” A sob cuts her off.
I pull her against my chest, not giving a shite that she's soaking through my shirt. “We're going to get there. And we're going to figure this out. I promise you. Whatever it takes.”