This beautiful brute was taking me all the way to Ireland? For what? I wanted to ask, but I had a feeling I wasn’t going to get more answers, seeing as Cian’s mouthpiece was starting to snore. It didn’t seem like Fiona spoke for Cian like Keenan did.
I went to move around Cian, but he blocked me. “I need to use the bathroom.” I had to look up to meet his eye, and it was as hard as stone. It was such a shame for this man to cover his face like he did with all that hair. It was gorgeous, and tamed, it might suit him, but as it was…it wasn’t working for him.
He refused to move.
“You can check me for a parachute, if you want, but I swear I don’t have one. I don’t have hidden wings, either, just in case you were wondering. And since I don’t have either…I won’t be jumping anytime soon.”
Fiona chuckled. Cian and I both turned toward the noise. It sounded rusty, unused, but I was sure that was what I’d heard. Cian’s brow furrowed, but he moved some and let me pass.
I really had to go, and I was in desperate need of some alone time. Everything had happened so fast the night before, and even though I knew this was my reality, it didn’t feel all that real at times. It was like my mind was protecting my heart—which felt directly connected to my sanity. Because when small pieces of reality would sneak through, it hurt so bad I could barely breathe.
A few minutes later, a knock came at the door so hard, if my skin wasn’t encasing my bones, and my bones my heart, everything inside of me would have jumped out of my body. It couldn’t even be considered a knock. It was a bang. I flung open the door, and Cian stood on the other side of it.
What was his problem? Why was he being so clingy? We were on a plane, a thousand miles up in the air, not even halfway to Ireland!
He nodded toward my seat. Out of sheer defiance, I took my sweet time getting there. As soon as I sat down, he took over buckling my seatbelt, like I didn’t know how to do it myself. Our fingers fought some over who was going to do it.
He won—he got me buckled in before I could. He stormed back to his seat and grunted as he sat. It was almost a triumphant sound.
Fiona handed me the book she’d given me before with a tiny smile on her face. At Chapter Eight, I fell into a deep sleep. I wasn’t sure how long I was out, but when I woke up, the sky was dark, and the entire plane was being jostled around.
Keenan was still sleeping. Fiona was laughing some, but her hands had turned into claws, and they were digging into the arms of her seat. Cian’s eyes were on me again.
The pilot came over the speaker and said we were going to have to land somewhere else—in Wales.
I gasped when the plane dropped and then came back up. Oxygen bags popped from the ceiling, but no one was making a move to put them on.
Fear had paralyzed me. I couldn’t move.
Cian moved across the aisle. He towered over Fiona until she grabbed her bag and took his seat. He sat next to me, his big hand close to mine. His fingers were long and elegantly shaped for a man of his size, but not too thin. Even though we were in a hunk of metal with wings, caught in a storm, he showed no outward sign of distress.
It was like he didn’t care if we lived or died.
The plane felt like it got sucked down again, and my hand shot out, clinging to his. I closed my eyes and held on. He started to move the ring around my finger, but other than that, he was as still as a stone statue.
Chapter6
Maeve
It was understandable that people who operated in criminal worlds probably had a more relaxed stance when it came to death. It seemed like a job hazard. But that was a harrowing experience on the plane, and I was the only one who wanted to kiss the ground when we stepped off it.
Fiona, Keenan, and Cian acted like it hadn’t even happened. It was business as usual.
I couldn’t seem to shake the feeling of being jostled. Maybe because something felt like it had been knocked loose inside of me, and it had nothing to do with the plane.
It was Cian O'Callaghan.
The feel of him turning my ring still echoed along my skin.
How could I even come to terms with whatever this attraction was toward him when he was the one who was going to end my life? And why take me all the way to Ireland to do it?
My thoughts circled around and around as we drove to wherever Cian was taking me. It felt like we’d been in the car for hours. After Wales, the Irish countryside passed in a blur outside my window, except for when we had to stop while a bunch of cows meandered across the road. We finally turned down a long drive.
At the end of it was a castle.
Even though the sun was probably about to set, the place seemed cloaked in darkness, like it hid too many secrets to allow the sun to make it glow.
Still, it was breathtaking in a way nineteenth-century places usually are. Probably because they had the strength to stand all those years and not crumble under life’s hardships.
