She was so lost in thought that she barely registered that her mobile phone was ringing. She caught it just as it stopped. The number showed up as unknown and she was about to put it back in her pocket, assuming it was just a telemarketer or the like. Instead, the notification for a voice mail went off, and she decided to check that first.
“Omega Walsh, this is Alpha McNally. I need to discuss something with you, preferably in person. Call me so we can set up a meeting as soon as possible. I’ll text the number.”
Right on cue, the text alert went off. She wondered how he had gotten her number, then remembered she’d provided it to the council as a contact for her clan. What did he want? She’d not missed how formal he had been on the call, so it was obviously business rather than pleasure, but what business could he have with her alone? She started to be coy but found herself dialing his number instead.
“This is Omega Walsh,” she said, doing her best to sound much calmer than she felt. Her mouth was suddenly dry and her palms sweaty. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest.
“I have a proposition for you . . . for Clan Omega. Are you available to meet today?”
“Yes. What time?” she said, feeling faint. What was this crap?
“I can meet you now if you’re available.”
“Where?”
“At the old castle grounds on the former Maguire property.”
Maeve was quiet for a moment, not sure what to make of it. What plausible reason could he have for wanting to meet her out there? When she didn’t respond right away, he asked if she was still there.
“Yes. Sorry, must have cut out for a minute. I’m in the city center, so I’ll have to grab the train home and get my car.”
“No need. I’m in Dublin proper too. I can swing by and get you. Where are you?”
“Just by the Ha’penny Bridge.”
“Okay. Move to the Temple Bar side and stand by the road. I’ll slow down for you to jump in.”
“What?” she gasped.
“Just kidding, but you know how traffic is. Be ready to jump in when I stop.”
“Aye. Fair play. How long?”
“Not long. I’m not far. Maybe five minutes. Silver Skoda.”
Maeve’s heart was hammering in her chest. Not only was she going to see him, but she’d be alone with him in a car out to the countryside south of town, toward the Wicklow Mountains.
“See you in a few,” she managed, ending the call.
She walked across the bridge and waited by the road, her heart hammering steadily. She focused on her breathing, trying to even it out.
“Damn imprinting,” she said aloud. “This is not what I planned.”
A moment later, she saw the car approach, giving a light honk of his horn as a heads up. He stopped, and she jumped in hurriedly, still trying to get herself under control.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ronan
“Good timing,” he said.
“You said to be ready to jump in,” Maeve replied.
“That I did,” he said, casting a side glance toward her, but turning back to the busy road ahead of them.
“Nice car. Yours?”
“Rental. I haven’t had time to look for anything else.”
“I guess you’re still had the hotel then too.”
It sounded like a loaded question to him, but he wasn’t taking the bait. Not today. The fact that her being so near to him was wreaking havoc on his libido was only one reason why engaging in such discourse was a bad idea. Rather than answering, he changed the subject.
“Put on your seat belt. Traffic out here is for shite.”
“Aye. Where are we going?”
“Better than you see than I tell you,” he replied.
“Hmm. A mystery then. Hopefully a good one and not an escort to my execution,” she replied, laughing nervously.
“Don’t be daft,” he told her.
She shrugged and turned toward the window. He could almost hear her heart beating from his side of the car. She was as wrecked as he was, but probably for different reasons. They rode in silence the rest of the way. It felt like it took forever, but they were soon pulling up to their destination.
“Jesus, I’ve not been here since we were sent to shelter,” she gasped. “You burned it to the ground!”
Ronan didn’t reply to that. There wasn’t much he could say. They had burned it all down. Instead, he parked the car and got out, leaving her gawking from the passenger’s seat at what little was left of the Maguire compound.
“Why have you brought me here?” she said, now spilling out of the passenger’s door.
“To show you what you are fighting for,” he told her.
“Burned or not, it is still rightfully the property of the survivors in our clan and thus, our clan.”
“I don’t disagree, which is why I’ve spoken with some members of the council about turning it back over to you.”