“Why not?”
He gives a derisive laugh. “Because I’m trying to watch out for you, brother. Not activate every damn instinct you’ve got.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Thanks for that, Lach. I appreciate your concern.” I sober, fighting the need to get up from this seat and go to her, to ensure she’s alright, even though I know she’s surrounded by guards and a fucking fortress. I don’t like being this far apart. “Those instincts activated the moment I broke that motherfucker’s neck.”
He blows out a breath. “Course they fucking did.” He finishes the rest of his tea and gets to his feet. “You’ll do the right thing. I know you will. But one thing I want you to remember, Tiernan.”
I watch him soberly.
“You aren’t alone in this. You don’t fight these battles alone. You’ve got an army of brothers here who’ve got your fucking back. Don’t take any of this on alone.”
He knows me. He knows I’m the type that will do things myself. I always have, and a part of me always will. But I needed this reminder.
I don’t know who will come for her, or what kind of danger she’s truly in.
But I’m not fucking alone.
“Thanks, Lach.” My voice is husky. I swallow hard and get to my feet. “I’m going to check on her. The girls had planned a little… shopping spree.”
“Going into town?” he says, his brows drawing together. “Fiona didn’t say anything to me.”
None of the women of the Clan, even Maeve, go anywhere without a detail on them and there’s no way Fiona would go into town without telling Lachlan first.
I shake my head. “No, online. I wouldn’t let them go into town.”
“Good call.”
“I’m going back,” I tell him. I don’t like how I feel inside, being this far apart from her. Is she overwhelmed? Scared? Are her withdrawal symptoms returning?
He gives me a sidelong look, and he smiles. “You miss her, you fucking twat, don’t you?”
I deck his arm, and he howls with laughter. “Fuck off.”
He goes to punch me back, but I easily dodge the blow, grab his elbow, and shove him off kilter. He pitches forward but howls with laughter as he steadies himself and comes up swinging. “Fucking bested me, you son of a bitch.”
“I’ll kick yer arse if I have to.” I duck his blow and land a punch to his abdomen.
He doubles over, wheezing.
“Truce!” he holds up his arms. “Jesus, brother. So you miss her, all good. Guess I won’t ask if you’ve fucked her yet and if her pussy—oof!”
He tries to dodge another blow, but I catch him again. God, it feels fucking good to laugh and to deck the son of a bitch.
He’s chuckling as we head back to the mansion, and I’m panting but not winded. My mind’s focused on everything he’s said. She’s in bloody fucking danger. We both are. But we aren’t in this alone.
I’ve never asked my brothers for anything. I’ve poured myself into devotion to the Clan, into learning and training and doing every job assigned to me well. It’s the least I could do for all they’ve done for me. I’ve obeyed the hierarchy, followed our code, and vowed to myself I’d repay them ten times over for all they’ve done.
But now, this time, I fucking need them. I breathe a sigh of relief when I enter the mansion again. She’s here, and so is my brotherhood.Chapter 12Aisling“Oh my God,” Fiona says, covering her mouth when I scroll down the screen to pick out a sweater to go with the skinny jeans and top. She points a finger to a teeny, little negligee on the side that could pass for little more than a G-string.
I snort and click “add to cart.”
“Noooo,” Fiona says, doubling over on the couch. “I do not need to know anything that happens between you and my brother.”
I’m just teasing, of course. I’m nowhere near ready for wearing something like that and suspect Tiernan wouldn’t have any use for it anyway.
Maeve rolls her eyes. “For the love of all things good and holy, Fiona, we can hardly give me the grand babies I need with an immaculate conception.”
Caitlin giggles, as I keep adding the raunchiest little numbers to the cart in rapid succession.
“Oh, God, no,” Fiona says when I turn my head to the side, staring at the screen to try to figure out if the little shoestring takes the place of a bra or knickers. I’m only messing with her. I won’t actually buy those things. As it is, I’m embarrassed the cart’s got more than thirty euros worth of clothes.
“Keep going,” Maeve says firmly. “You’re staying with us indefinitely, and believe me when I tell you, money’s not an object.” She points her finger at the screen. “Do it.”
“Money’s not an object” rings in my mind and niggles at my conscience. If money wasn’t an object, I never would’ve gotten into the fucking trouble I did to begin with.