The rest of the drive passes in silence. When we arrive back at what I’d started thinking of as my parents’ place and not my place, I rush upstairs to get myself ready for tonight. I need to talk shop with Cormac before Maeve and I head out, and if I know her, she’ll walk down those stairs right on time. Always punctual. Which means I need to be quick if I want to talk to Cormac. I send Ronan a text asking him to pull the black 1967 Ford Mustang, one of my favorites, and park it at the front door before Orin picks him up. I’ll be driving Maeve and me tonight, but Ronan and Orin will be nearby. I want Maeve to feel as free from observation as possible, even if it’s only an illusion.
Ronan pulls up to the front door as I’m walking out.
“Lookin’ good, brother,” he says, popping up smoothly from the driver’s side.
“Thanks,” I say distractedly, running a hand through my hair. “You and Orin clear on what to do?”
“It’s not rocket science, C,” he says with a grin. “Just a little game of I Spy. Don’t you worry.”
He claps me on the shoulder as I step past him and slide into the passenger seat. I nod and close the door, then pull down the driveway and head toward Maeve’s place. I pass Orin’s blacked-out SUV creeping smoothly in the opposite direction, and I lift a finger in greeting.
I pull up in front of the Collins place and hop out of the car. There are a couple of guys flanking the front door, tall and silent, and they open it for me as I approach. I nod at them and step inside, buttoning my coat. Cormac is standing in the foyer, waiting for me, straight-backed and silent. The contrast to his lighthearted demeanor last night is almost comical, but this quiet, dangerous version is more like the real him. There’s a reason he’s feared, known as the one you don’t mess with.
On top of that, the man has been in a dark place for a few years shy of two decades, which adds another layer of danger to his manner. He’s the reason the rose-colored glasses shattered, after all. He knew something wasn’t right in our ranks before anyone else did.
I extend my hand to shake his. His grip is firm. “Cormac. How are you?”
“I’ve been better,” he says in his faint Irish brogue, a half-hearted smile on his face, “but what can ye do? Can I get you a drink?”
“No thanks. I’m driving tonight and I know we will have one with dinner. Got to keep my wits about me,” I say, shoving my hands into my pockets. “Do we know anything else? Is there a deal being made that I’m not aware of?” I inquire, trying to keep rein on my anger.
“No, everything is business as usual. We haven’t taken on any new clients in over a month. They began to appear sporadically around that time. It was only one or two men at first, and now…” he trails off, shaking his head. “We’ve upped the manpower and adjusted shift changes to random times so they can’t track a schedule. Not even the men know when their shifts end.”
His eyes glint coldly as he stares out the front windows, the sun sinking down behind the trees.
“What does Maeve know of this?” I ask.
“Not as much as she should,” he answers, glancing behind him at the stairs. “I believe I kept her in the dark for too long.”
I stay quiet because I agree. Sheshouldknow more.
“I still don’t know how tonight will go,” I say, glancing back at the stairs myself. “It might not be the right time to tell her about the agreement.”
“But, there’s only—” Cormac starts.
“There is no ‘but’ here, Cormac,” I say, cutting him off. “We do this my way, or we won’t do it at all. Personally, I don’t give ashytewhat you and my father concocted years ago.”
He looks at me steadily, eyes slightly narrowed. I look back, letting him appraise me, letting him weigh my words.
“She needs to have a choice in this,” I say with a sigh, running my hand over my face. I have to make sure this goes right. I have to convince him. “She doesn’t even have to know about the agreement if we do this my way. She deserves to make at least one choice amid all thebullshytewe go through.”
Cormac stares at his feet for a moment before he sighs.
“I know,” he says, his voice smaller than I expected. No fight in it. He knows where his faults lie.
We stand there in silence for a few more moments, both lost in thought. When I hear Maeve’s heels click on the top step of the staircase, I turn expectantly.
Fuck me, she’s magnificent. A thrill of possessive energy pulses through me as I realize that she’s wearing the dress and shoes I’d sent over this morning. Ihadwondered whether she’d wear them or not. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had trashed them and worn sweatpants in protest.
I watch her descend the stairs, letting my gaze slide up and down her body, not bothering to hide it. The floor-length dress hugs her curves, as if it were made specifically for her. Her long, toned legs move smoothly down the steps, peeking out of twin slits on either side of the dress as it ripples fluidly.
Fuck. Me.
She reaches the bottom of the stairs and holds her hands interlocked in front of her, a tense look on her face.
Cormac brings me back to reality by slapping a hand on my shoulder.
“You did well, son,” he says with a broad smile, the tension from just a few moments ago gone from his demeanor. “Now, go on and enjoy yourselves. I won’t wait up.”
