“Aye,” Nolan says. Tiernan hasn’t shaken his hand, so Nolan withdraws it, but he doesn’t look angry. He pockets both hands, a gesture of surrender, I think, and jerks his chin toward Tiernan. “Where’d they enter?”
Fiona watches us with wide eyes. The plaits in her hair from earlier have loosened. Little wisps of hair frame her face, giving the appearance of a reddish halo and makes her look younger than her thirteen years.
She walks to me and stands beside me in silence. Tiernan shows us the broken door in the kitchen, the splintered wood and broken lock. Nolan curses under his breath.
“Need a proper locksmith to come in to fix that,” he mutters. “And who the f—who knows if they’ll be back tonight. Often the way, you know.”
Fiona hasn’t spoken before now, but she’s watched Nolan the entire time.
“What’s that on your arm?” she asks, waving a finger at the ink that shows just beneath his shirt sleeve. The dim overhead lighting doesn’t reveal much, but it does illuminate his trademark ink.
Tiernan draws in a sharp breath, and takes a step back.
Dammit.
“Mother of God,” Tiernan mutters. “Sheena, what have you done? Who’ve you brought here?”
Nolan looks to me. I don’t know what to say.
When neither of us responds, Tiernan continues. “You’re mafia, aren’t you?” he asks Nolan.
Nolan’s busy with the locks and doesn’t answer. He straightens, and still not answering Tiernan’s question, he turns to me.
“They’ll come with us, then,” he says. “Can’t all fit in the one car.”
What?
He opens the door and calls out to Lachlan.
While he steps out, Tiernan hisses to me, “Sheena.”
“What?” I hiss back.
“Is he mafia?”
I grit my teeth. “Is it that obvious?”
Tiernan curses, and Nolan steps back inside. “Right, then,” he says. “We’ll take the children with us, Lachlan and Carson will wait for a ride to come get them.”
I shake my head. “No. Absolutely not. They can’t go with you. I’ll stay here, and—”
Nolan’s gaze darkens, and he shakes his head. “Can’t do that, Sheena,” he says, his voice tight and laced with meaning. “It isn’t safe for any of you here. And anyway. You have promises to keep.”
Tiernan takes a step toward him but I raise my palm up to stop him. “He’s right, Tiernan. Staying here isn’t safe.” I think about this opportunity.
If my siblings are at the McCarthy house, how will we possibly keep my status with them a secret? How will I find what I need to, spy on them and bring them down? Will this put a complete wrench into everything? Or… will it buy me even more time at the McCarthy’s?
“A word, Nolan?” I ask as pleasantly as I can.
“Go on,” he says.
I blow out an exasperated breath. “Privately.”
He takes my hand, too firmly I might add, and with a tight nod, says, “Aye. One minute. Tiernan, pack what you need but don’t take much.”
Tiernan doesn’t move.
Nolan drags me into my mother’s room and shuts the door. I curse when I see a mirrored plate of pills beside a used needle and spoon, the rumpled sheets, and piles of dirty, rancid clothing. I push it away, pretending I’m not here, that he isn’t seeing this. I put up a wall between my logic and my pride, and swallow the lump in my throat. I open my mouth to speak, but I can’t. The lump prevents me. I swallow and try again, but when I try to talk, nothing comes out.
Nolan reaches for me, wraps his fingers around the back of my neck, and pulls my forehead to his. But the way his green eyes flash and his voice is laced with tension bely any tenderness.
“No fucking around, Sheena,” he says. “I came here tonight because I’m not as big a prick as you’d believe. I might be mafia, but I won’t abide children being abused, do you hear me?”
He squeezes my neck. My nose tingles, and something strange is happening still because I can’t speak.
“You’ll still be my prisoner. You’ll still answer for what you’ve done. But Jesus fucking Christ, the least we can do is get those kids out of this hellhole first.”
I blink, and the worst thing possible happens. Fat, hot tears roll down my cheeks. I go to swipe them away, but I can’t because he stops me. His mouth is on mine before I know what’s happening. I taste salty tears and the strength of this man as he kisses me, his grip tight, his lips soft, the prickle of his beard scraping my tender skin. Too soon, he pulls away.
“Impossible fucking woman,” he growls. One hand grabs my arse and he pulls me even closer to him. “You ruined everything.”
“Go to hell,” I hiss.
To my surprise, he grins at me, and his green eyes look wicked. “Aye, lass. No question that’s exactly where I’m going. Question is, are you coming for the ride?”