I reach over and grab her hand, kissing the tally marks on the inside of her wrist in white ink as we pull out of the diner’s parking lot, the gravel shifting beneath the tires before we pull onto the smooth pavement. I roll the windows down, stealing glances at Maeve with her head leaned against the door, the wind blowing her hair back, eyes closed.
Beautiful.
We reach an intersection and I roll to a gentle stop, checking my rearview mirror. I see Ronan about two car lengths back doing exactly what he’s supposed to be doing.
A dark sedan turns in front of us, slowing as it passes by. My instincts have me wanting to reach for my weapon, but I don’t. I call Ronan quickly.
“What’s up, boss?”
“See that blacked-out sedan that just passed us?”
“Yeah, I see them. Want me to have them tailed?”
“Yes. Something’s not right.”
“You got it. Also, the lights are green now,” Ronan says, chuckling as I quickly let off the brake.
“Dick,” I mutter softly to myself as I slide the phone back into my pocket.
“So what was that about?” Maeve asks from beside me. I sigh, reaching for her hand again.
“It’s probably nothing, but…” I trail off, wanting to be honest but not wanting her to worry. “I just… I have this uneasy feeling. That car that passed us back there, something wasn’t right about it. I try not to ignore my gut instincts anymore.”
“How often does this happen?” She asks, brows furrowed.
“More than it used to, unfortunately. It’s been at least once a week that I have to send someone to tail a vehicle, only for them to lose it. I wish it wasn’t like this.”
Maeve looks agitated and confused.“Like what?” She asks, shifting in her seat to face me. “What exactly do you mean, Callum?”
The bite in her tone surprises me.
“I mean,” I say gently, grabbing her hand and kissing the back, “I wish that we could have had more than a few hours of peace before the bullshit started.”
I watch as her shoulders relax. Both of us were exhaling a breath of relief. The remainder of the car ride was silent aside from Maeve singing. I spend the rest of the drive with my head on a swivel, looking for anything suspicious.
After another fifteen minutes, we arrive at her father's house. The doorman opens the door for us as we approach, greeting us pleasantly, and then closes the door once we are both inside. Maeve gives me a quick kiss before heading upstairs to shower and change. Not even a minute after she reaches the top, Orin and Ronan walk in the front door. They both look worried.
We exchange glances, and Orin says, “Cormac is at your parents’ place for a meeting. We can talk in here,” he says, gesturing toward the sitting room.
“The sedan?” I ask, and Orin shakes his head. Ronan pulls out his phone and reads a message.
“Fitz said, ‘The name on the rental isFar Darrig. It traces back to a shell account and dead ends.'” He looks up at Orin and me, confused. “Why does Far Darrig ring a bell?”
“BecauseFar Darrigis theRed Manour parents told us about as kids. The mischievous faerie that plays malicious pranks. The evil twin to the leprechaun.”
“So whoever it is is fucking with us,” Ronan says what we are all thinking.
“Have Fitz keep looking for other connections, and get back to me if he finds anything else.”
We walk across the foyer to the sitting room. I make a beeline for the wet bar in the back corner of the room, pour myself a whiskey, and stare out of the large window overlooking Imogen’s garden.
“I didn’t know it would still get to her so bad,” Ronan says as he sits heavily on the rich leather sofa in the middle of the room, rubbing his jaw and sighing heavily.
“She hasn’t had an episode like that in a few years. At least, not while she’s awake,” Orin says, sitting down in one of the two matching leather chairs facing the sofa.
“How often is she having the nightmares?” I ask, leaning against the wall and swirling my drink.
“She has them anytime she sleeps more than three to four hours at a time,” Orin answers with a tone of defeat, rubbing the back of his neck and staring at the floor.
