"Sean?" He sounds surprised. "Everything all right?"
"No. Someone just tried to kill my wife. I need you in Boston. Today."
A pause. "Your wife? Since when would someone—never mind. I'm booking a flight now. Text me your address."
"Flynn—"
"We'll talk when I get there. Let me get moving so I don’t miss the next flight out." He hangs up.
I stand there in the study with my phone in my hand, my heart hammering, rage building in my chest like a physical thing.
Someone tried to kill her. Someone knew she'd be at that stable. Knew which trail she'd take. Knew exactly where to set up for a clean shot.
Someoneplannedthis. The thought makes my blood run cold.
I hear the sound of tires on gravel and head for the front entrance. Mrs. Brady appears from somewhere, her face pale. "Mr. Flannery, I just heard—is Maeve?—"
"She's alive. They're bringing her back now." I don't stop moving. "Call Dr. Lewis. I want him here within the hour."
"Yes, sir,” she says quickly, hurrying out of the room without a second question. I run my hands through my hair, striding toward the front door. What if it's my fault? What if marrying her painted a target on her back because now she's connected to me? The Wolf's wife.
Christ.I should never have agreed to this marriage. I should have let Connor McBride put a bullet in me rather than chaining an innocent girl to me in wedlock.
But then she'd have been married off to someone else. Someone who might have put her in danger, too. Someone who might hurt her. At least with me, she's safe from violence behind closed doors, if not outside of them.
The rage builds in my chest, cold and jagged. Whoever did this is going to die. Slowly. Painfully. I'll make sure they understand exactly what happens when someone touches what's mine.Mine.The word echoes in my head, possessive and primal. She is mine. My wife. My responsibility.
And someone tried to take her from me.
The car finally pulls up, and I'm through the door before it fully stops. Eddie is climbing out, and I want to kill him for letting this happen. Want to put my hands around his throat and squeeze until?—
No. Not now. Maeve first.
I see her on the other side of Eddie, alive and breathing, but pale as death, trembling all over, with blood soaking through a makeshift bandage on her arm. Something in my chest cracks at the sight.
"Out," I tell Eddie, my voice deadly calm. "Now." He moves, and I reach for her.
She's so small. So fragile. How is she even real, this girl who's supposed to be my wife? How am I supposed to keep her safe when she's so fragile and I'm made of violence?
I help her out of the car, as carefully as I can. "Are you hurt anywhere else?" I need to know. I’m fighting back the desire to check every inch of her to make sure she's really okay. "Tell me the truth."
Maeve shakes her head, her voice trembling. "No. Just my arm. It's not bad, it just grazed?—"
"Someone shot you." The words come out harsh. "Someone shot my wife."
I carry her inside, ignoring everyone except the woman in my arms. I take her straight to the sitting room and set her down on the sofa, kneeling in front of her.
"Let me see."
She holds out her arm, and I carefully unwrap the bandage. The wound is shallow—Eddie was right, it's just a graze—but it's still a bullet wound. Still evidence that someone tried to kill her. I can feel my hands threatening to shake as I examine it.
I'm the Wolf of Dublin. I've killed thirty-four people. I don't shake.
But looking at this wound, at the blood on her pale skin, at how close she came to dying…
"It really isn't bad," Maeve says softly. "I've had worse from falling off Atlas."
"This wasn't a fall." I drop my hands, fighting off the urge to keep touching her. "This was a professional hit. Someone was positioned on a trail they knew you'd be riding."
