Chapter 9
Callum
Abditory (n) a place in which you can disappear; a hiding place
“I assume you spoke with my realtor and my attorney?” I ask the listing realtor, who nods enthusiastically. We’re standing in a large upstairs room of an empty house, our voices echoing. I notice that mine sounds more confident than I feel. But it’s not a lack of confidence about the house or the price. Money is no object, and this is a place I’ve been eyeing for some time now. It’s perfect, a Victorian-style build on twenty acres at the edge of town. Dark wood floors, high ceilings, intricate crown moldings, and plenty of spacious fireplaces to ward off the bitter Massachusetts winters.
My lack of confidence is more like a feeling of panic ebbing and flowing in my chest. I want to buy this place for Maeve. For us. But whatthe fuckam I doing? She’s obviously still… hostile. Why would she want tomove inwith me? It sounds ridiculous.
Then again, I know she’s ready to leave her family home, get out from under Cormac’s watchful eye. Being required to attend daily early-morning breakfasts and having a 24/7 bodyguard/tail following you has to be exhausting. But the truth is, it isn’t safe for Maeve to live by herself, at least not yet. Even if it was, who knows if she’dwanttoafter what happened. After she was taken. I feel a flash of savage anger at the memory of how close I’d come to losing her forever.
Nessa certainly isn’t a roommate option. Maeve’s too smart for that. They might be cousins and “best friends,” but deep down, Maeve knows to keep Nessa at arm’s length. That leaves me as her best option.
At least, that’s how I’ve justified it to myself. Maybe, after I explain everything to her tonight, after she sees this place, she’ll warm up to the idea.I nod, feeling my confidence rising as I turn in place again. This room is perfect for her library. There are rows and rows of built-in shelves, and since it’s a corner room, four large windows face the sea of green trees surrounding the front and sides of the house.
“She’ll love it,” I say distractedly to the realtor, ready to move things along. I need to get out of here before my confidence wanes again. “Don’t forget to leave the keys before you go.”
I start walking toward the door, but the realtor doesn’t respond. I turn to find her rooted to the spot, her mouth hanging open comically. I sigh.
“You were supposed to be bringing the keys with you,” I say, sliding my hands into my pockets and taking a few steps toward her. “Did you not bring them?”
“Um, sir,” she says, her voice squeaking, “the final paperwork hasn’t been completed. I can’t just hand you the keys, that would be illeg—”
I hold up my hand to cut her off, impatient.
Utter incompetence,I think, and I have to restrain myself from saying it out loud.I’ve got too much to do today.
“The previous owner passed away,” I say, my tone that of a parent explaining a basic concept to his child, “and his daughter has been trying to unload this property for at least a year. She and I have already spoken, and my attorney is handling the paperwork. I expect to have those keys in my hand by noon today. I’ll have my attorney call you. Again.”
She nods quickly and scratches frantic notes on the legal pad she’s holding, then looks back up at me expectantly.
“You can go now.”
She nods and hurries off.Thank God, I think, listening to her retreating steps. I stroll over to one of the windows and pull out my cell. I call my lawyer and relay the necessary information, emphasizing the need for haste. He assures me it will be taken care of.Damn right, I think as I hang up. For the retainer I pay him, I should have the keys within the hour.
I tap out a quick message to our maintenance workers, asking them to cut and straighten the yard by the end of the day, then slide my cell back in my pocket and hurry downstairs, wondering all the while how tonight’s dinner will go.
I walk out of the jeweler's and head to the car, where Ronan is waiting for me. As I close the passenger door behind me, I hear my phone ping. I pull it out of my pocket and read Maeve’s one-word reply:
Nope.
I can just hear the sass. I smirk, returning the phone to my pocket.
“You got everything straightened out?” Ronan asks as we pull out of the parking lot.
“Yeah, man, I got it,” I say, staring down at the small box in my hand before I slide it into my pocket. Ronan nods, but looks uncomfortable, like he’s about to burst.
“Ireallywish I didn’t have to pull you into this today, but it can’t wait,” he says, palpable reservation in his voice. “I just got off the phone with my father. The Costas’ men have been seen sitting outside a few of our warehouses the past few nights. My father spoke to Cian last night, and he said the Costas have also been spotted outside Collins’ warehouses. One was even seen outside of the Collins estate this morning.”
I feel my anger rising with every word. I grip my chin harder than I intend, and my vision tunnels, then I slam my hand into the dash, a feral growl ripping my throat. I knew I should have wiped out the Costas' entire sorry bloodline when I’d had the chance.
Ronan, being Ronan, says, “Damn, C, it’s not the car's fault.”
I just cut my eyes toward him as he dusts off the dash with his fingers, as if the car wasn’t already spotless.
“Tonight will not be fucked up by some Italian mutt that doesn’t know what’s best for him,” I say through gritted teeth. “I need you with me tonight, and maybe a few other guys out of sight. I’ll call Cormac and see if he can spare a man or two. Tonighthasto go off without a hitch. Understand?” I give him a steady, humorless look. He nods, a serious look on his face, too.
Why couldn’t they wait just one more fecking month to show their faces?
