She’d told me she was surrounded by worlds here—worlds she’d never thought she’d see—and workin’ at the bookstore, or even buyin’ it, was going to make her feel trapped in her life again. I was who I was, and my business in Boston couldn’t be left for long stretches of time. Even men who vowed loyalty to me would sniff a vulnerable leader out and go after him (me) like I’d gone after Craig. Most likely for other reasons, reasons that were not personal, but there were no guarantees.
Keenan could stand in for me, but Keenan wasn’t a permanent solution.
Nothin’ was, except for me bein’ in Boston.
Maeve’s eyes found Fiona searchin’ the shelves. She smoothed out her sweater and started toward her. After she got there, a man came in and watched as she talked to Fiona. He didn’t call her name.
He ran up behind her and picked her up off the floor.
She startled and slapped at his arms.
She fell out of them when I wrapped my arm around his neck and started to squeeze his throat. I’d lifted him off his feet some, and he was kickin’ at me, tryin’ to claw my arms.
If the store was in chaos, I didn’t hear it.
All I felt was his life drainin’, and I knew it wouldn’t be long.
“CIAN!”
Maeve’s voice cut like a knife through the buttery noise in my head, and everythin’ went quiet.
“Oh my God,” she cried, her panic like a piercin’ scream in my ears. “Please, Cian.” She lifted her hands. “Let him go. He didn’t mean it. I know him from before.”
“Know him,” I repeated.
“No!” she rushed out. “Not likethat. He’s Robert’s nephew. Nothing more.Please.Don’t do this.Please.”
Her pleadin’ was the only thin’ that saved his life. I dropped him on the ground, fixed my long coat, and wrapped my arm around her. She fell into me, and I kept her pressed to my side as we left.
As soon as we were home, she shoved me off, and for the first time, I came face to face with a truly pissed-off Maeve O'Callaghan.
Chapter27
Maeve
At first, I had been surprised. I wasn’t expecting Kyle to pick me up like that. Once I’d realized who it was, I knew my husband was going to go after him. He didn’t care about names.
Still.
My shock melted into pure, undiluted fear when Kyle’s eyes started to bulge and he started to piss himself. Cian was draining the life from him right before my eyes. I knew he wasn’t even hearing the screams in the shop, or Delaney’s wild cries as she begged for the life of someone she considered her nephew.
Keenan and Fiona stood back, watching the group instead of Cian. They wanted to make sure no one recorded what he was doing.
Me?
All I could do was plead and beg for my husband to stop, hoping by some miracle my voice cut through the dark fog like morning breaks through night, and he could see me. I’d seen Cian kill before, and it was almost effortless, like he’d been programmed to do it. There was no line between right and wrong for him, only survive or die.
I couldn’t blame him for that. Craig had sent him down a dangerous road a lesser man would have succumbed to. Cian never had the time to truly be a boy. He’d been turned into a killer, and that killer created the beast to protect the little boy who still hid under a piece of grass on a hill in Ireland.
The aftermath, though—Kyle crumpled into a mess on the floor, the look Delaney had sent me before I left, like maybe she never wanted to see me again—made my heart ache.
I wasn’t sure who I was madder at.
My husband.
Life.
Even myself.
