“Tell me now if this is a family trait that I should get used to.” I stuck the papers inside. “You scare me. Your cousinconstantlyscares me. I mean, you’re both big men, why do you both walk like ghosts?”
“I wasn’t aware ghosts walked,” he said, going to take a seat on the small couch. He grinned at me, resting his foot on his knee.
I waved a hand. “You know what I mean.”
“Mean what you say and say what you mean.” His grin turned even wider.
“What are you doing here so early?” Cash had appointed Raff my shadow after the party at Harrison’s house. But he usually came later to pick me up. I knocked off earlier than usual because of my shitty day.
“Cash sent me to bring you home.”
He was keeping tabs on me, but that didn’t make a lump form in my throat, blocking airflow to my lungs. It was one word. Home. The marauder’s house.
Raff had overseen the move from my old apartment to Kelly’s warehouse-turned-palatial-palace in Hell’s Kitchen. After Kelly orchestrated that dramatic scene in front of Harrison’s house, he told me I had three days to get my shit ready to be moved into his place. He actually used the word “our”—as in, hisandmine.
If that kiss wasn’t enough to knock me on my ass, moving in with him swept the barstool right out from underneath me.
I stared at Raff for second, maybe longer, because he raised his eyebrows at me. I’d been lost in thought.
In the time it took me to walk to my dressing room and pack up some of my stuff, I had come up with plan that might rattle Cash Kelly a little. It was going to take courage to see it through, though. I took a deep breath and said, “Cash’s family church, the one he was telling me about?”
Cash said we were going to get married there, since the priest had been a family friend for years—no date had been set, but he’d mentioned it to my Mam and Da after the scene with Scott. My parents were familiar with the church, so my Mam approved. Not that Kelly seemed to care one way or the other, but it was a point for him.
“What about it?” Raff said.
“I’d like to stop there before going home.”
Raff nodded. “Yeah, I guess that’d be all right.”
I nodded, more for myself, swooping up my bag from the table in front of the mirror. The reflection lit up by megawatt bulbs showed a woman at war with herself, but I’d already made up my mind. “I have one other stop before going to church. It won’t take long.”
Raff narrowed his eyes at me but came along without protest.
* * *
The small officeinside of the massive church was dim, since the sun was starting to set. Raff had gone to find Father Flanagan and had left me alone with my thoughts and my bags.
At first Raff had directed me to the confessional, but I shook my head and said I needed to speak to the priest somewhere else—a place where we could take my bags and I could keep them close.
Raff seemed to have a clue as to what I was up to, but instead of calling me out, the grin on his face told me he was going to keep my secret. He seemed to like the idea of me one-upping Kelly. Maybe because not many people were able to.
Two chairs were in front of a simple desk in the priest’s office. I sat in one, sighing as I did, and then glanced at the bag hanging over the second.
My heart skipped a beat and I took a deep, deep breath to try and regulate it. It was making those feathers flutter again in the pit of my stomach. My fingers drummed against the wood, and my foot had an insane urge to tap.
Five minutes went by, and right before I stood from my seat, too nervous to sit, the door opened, and an older man walked in.
“Father Flanagan?” I said, turning in my seat.
“All day,” he said. “Raff said you’d like to have a word with me.”
I stood and he stopped cold—his eyes took me in from my head to my hands. I was rubbing my palms against my jeans.
“My name is Keely Ryan,” I said, sticking my hand out. “I was told you’re a family friend of the Kelly family.”
He took my hand, but instead of shaking it, he set his free one on top of mine. “I consider Cashel Fallon and Killian Patrick as close as blood.” He paused. “Are you in some kind of trouble, Keely?”
“Trouble.” I shook my head. It would do no good to tell this man about the kind of trouble Cash Kelly was, because he probably already knew. “No, that’s not the right word for it. But I am glad you consider Cashel Fallon family. Does the branch extend to me? Since he’s chosen me for his bride?” I smiled—a cunning smile, as my Mam called it.
