“How did you find that out?” Michael this time, leaning forward, his elbows braced on his thighs. His eyes are fiery again and I get the feeling this deal was one of his.
“I just listened,” Mom tries to clear her throat, croaking a bit. “I picked up bits and pieces from conversations you had, or one of the guards would say something. This shipment - it’s the only one I told him about - I thought that would be enough and he’d go away. I swear!”
I rest my forehead against Mom’s shoulder. They’re going to kill us. Just from what I heard of Michael’s conversation on the phone, I could tell how bad this is.
They never go away, Jordan says conversationally.Mom has to know that.
“Xenia and Georges are still going through their electronics,” Michael says. “She found all the messages on a deleted email account. There’s no indication of anything further. No pictures or shipping manifests.”
“That was all, I swear it,” Mom says.
I don’t think it matters. They’re going to kill us.
“Did it ever occur to you to tell us?” Mala asks. For a moment, I get a glimpse of real hurt on her face. “After ten years, you didn’t think we would help you?”
Mom’s head drops, she looks ashamed and it’s killing me. “I thought after ten years of hiding our past that you would be furious, throw us out, at the very least.”
“The MacTavish Clan has a rule against hurting or killing women,” the Chieftain says heavily. “But, we have never had one of ours go against us like this. Ye caused serious damage. Our deal with the Matsumori Yakuza is in jeopardy.”
“That feck Taylor must have notified law enforcement,” Cameron adds. “We have detectives crawling over the site, trying to find something to pin on us.”
“Punishment for such a betrayal is banishment.” The Chieftain’s eyes are so like Michael’s, a deep green but now they’re polar, like a frozen forest. “You would serve the rest of your life confined, under supervision.”
One by one, they all nod, each one sealing our fate.
Locking my knees, I force myself to stay upright. It’s all over. Everything. This will be worse than prison, because at least in there, there’s hope for parole.
“My son, however, has proposed a different sentence,” the Chieftain says.
“Wh- what would that be?” Mom whispers.
Michael’s leaning back, swirling his glass of scotch, the very picture of a Scottish gentleman who is likely about to pronounce a death sentence.
“I’m going to marry your daughter.”
Chapter Seven
Earlier, in Sophie’s cottage…
“Ye want towhat?”Da stared at me in shock.
“I want to marry Sophie,” I repeated patiently. “There is precedent in our family.”
His brow furrowed. “Aye, Coric, yourSeanair’scousin.”
I was certain that he’d know. Da has a photographic memory and can recite any family lore stretching generations back.
“That dinnae explain the why of it, son.”
Absently stacking the papers scattered across the kitchen table, I noticed that most of them are notes, scribbled in a messy handwriting. “We should add these into the pile of documents for Georges and Xenia to review.”
Da leaned against the doorway, arms folded. He deserved an explanation.
I wish I had an adequate one to give him.
“It will depend on what Martha tells us, but we both know that someone dinnae work for our family for over a decade to suddenly turn rogue. There’s a reason she did this. If it’s forgivable - hell, even understandable - I can keep them from being sent to Siberia or down to Johannesburg by marrying Sophie.”
“Ten years…” Da shakes his head angrily. “Of all the people I’d suspect for leaking information, it never would have been them.” His jaw tightens. “It makes me even angrier, somehow.”
