“There are things that you all have not been privy to prior to this…exchange, so I understand the confusion,” I say as I look around the table, meeting each person’s gaze levelly. Especially my father’s. “I want to make one thing very clear before we continue. I will not be coddled any further. I shouldn’t have been coddled for the last ten years either.” My father nods slightly, a vague look of regret in his eyes. “Now, regarding Nessa. As far as I’m concerned, she’s dead to me. When we find her, I’ll be the one to deal with her.”
I look around and realize there are no objections. I ease myself back into my chair now that I’ve piqued everyone’s interest, and continue.
“My understanding is that the Italians are back in town?” I look around, and my father nods his head. “What do we know so far?”
“Not as much as we’d like,” Cian says, a hint of pride as he looks at me. “We know they are watching some of our warehouses. They obviously don’t know about all of them. They haven’t made any direct moves, but seem to be getting bolder and not hiding anymore.”
“Also, I got word from home that the ones in their area have seemingly disappeared and the Russians have started to trickle in,” Eoin adds in his thick Irish brogue. He and Cian had emigrated to America with Niall, Lorcan, and my father thirty years ago. But Ireland had never left their blood.
Callum nods, his eyes alight with awareness. “Uncail Declan filled me in on some of that when we last spoke. I’ll know more once we make it there. He would only tell me so much over the phone. We’ll be leaving first thing in the morning.”
I look into his eyes and see the storm brewing beneath. I’m ready to be on that plane and get away from the bullshit, but with everything that has happened at the warehouse, I don’t know if it’s the wise choice. What if we’re needed here?
Orin clears his throat. “Ronan and I will also be joining them in Ireland, and we have Uncail Declan's men meeting us at the airport. They’ll accompany us on the train, as well. I met some of them during our previous visits, so I feel confident that they’ll be adequate,” he says, looking to my father intently.
Ronan’s phone rings. He stands from the table and walks toward the window behind him to answer. We all wait in tense silence. After a quick and murmured conversation, he curses and pockets his phone..
“Nessa’s gone. Her phone was there, but that was all. The guys said it looked like she left in a hurry with some help. Almost like they’d been tipped off. I don’t like the way this smells,” he murmurs, malice lacing his tone. The veins in his arms become prominent as his anger rises. He grabs the back of his neck, squeezing it like it will relieve some of the tension lingering there.
“What’s your plan for Liam?” Niall asks, looking at Callum expectantly. He almost looks surprised, like he wasn’t expecting to be handed the reins on this one.
“I want to get the information I need from him before I hand him over to Maeve,” Callum says. Everyone except the boys and Lorcan turn in my direction as if realizing that I, too, was just as deadly. The boys, however, know that Callum doesn’t make decisions lightly when I am involved. It’s strange how, in less than a week's time, we have all fallenback into place, as if the piece of a puzzle was hovering over its proper place waiting to be dropped.
“Care to elaborate?” My father questions, making my heart rate skyrocket. I don’t want him to feel as though this is his fault. It’s no one's fault but Liam’s.
“That’s a lot to unpack right now, and we don’t have enough time to cover it tonight. Just know every punch, slice, and drop of blood is well deserved,” I say, not breaking eye contact with my father, who, surprisingly, accepts that as a sufficient answer. This is going to take some getting used to. Usually, he’s the king of questions, but right now, he seems satisfied with what I’ve told him.
“Well,” Aisling says, her voice matter-of-fact, “you all have a flight to catch in about four hours. We will keep Liam downstairs and well until you return. There will be men looking for Nessa and men watching the warehouses, as well. You will be kept up to date on any information we receive here. Uncail Declan mentioned you bringing Saoirse back with you, so once you find out more on that, I expect you to fill me in.”
“Is it wise for us to go still?” I inquire, looking at our parents.
“It would be good for you four to get out of the city. Whoever this is is clearly targeting you, so being out of the country will make it harder for them,” Niall responds, taking a sip of water once he has finished.
“And who is talking to the loved ones?” I ask, looking at my hands, then back at the table.
“I have spoken with them,” Cian says. “And Eoin has spoken with the wives of the men lost on the Egan side.” I look to Eoin. His expression is solemn.
“Let us know what we can do,” Callum adds. “Lorcan, would you make sure that the men who have children see you a few times a week while they process everything, maybe some boxing classes or whatever you think would help them the most?”
I place my hand on the back of Callum’s neck, my thumb rubbing the base of his skull right where the hair is shortest. He turns his head to look me in the eyes. I search them, and I see it. The pain, the sadness, the anger.
“Of course,” Lorcan says, causing me to look in his direction. He’s looking at Orin, who has left his seat to go stand by the window. Suddenly, I have an idea.
“Orin,” I say, and he halfway turns his head to listen. “Do you think you could help Lorcan? I mean, if you wouldn’t mind. I'd like to help as well, and since you’ll be with me, I thought maybe—”
“Yes,” Orin cuts my rambling short and looks at me fully. Appreciation shimmers in his gaze. I give him a short nod, he returns the same.
“You all can stay here tonight. You included, Cormac,” Aisling says, leaving no room for retort as she stands from the table. Everyone slowly filters out of the office, heading off to their respective rooms for the night.
Callum takes my hand and leads me to his room, not saying a word. The hall is shorter than I remember, but then again, everything seemedbigger when I was little. He opens the door, and we step into the masculine version of my room. It’s dark and cozy, giving me the feeling that he and I will agree on the interior design of our house with no trouble at all.
“Let me grab you something to sleep in,” he says, strolling to his closet.
“Thanks,” I murmur as I glance around the space. There are sketches adorning almost every wall. A few are locations around our college campus, the junction standing out the most to me. It looks like the same tree I sat under to read most days. I move onto the next one, and my breath hitches.
It’s me.
I’m on the roof, nestled into the little alcove beside my bedroom window, reading.
