“My wife is a machine, that’s how.” The look of pride in Stephen’s eyes as he talks about his wife creates a dull ache in my chest.
“That’s high praise coming from someone like you.”
“Trust me, hell week is a walk in the park compared to looking after two toddlers.”
“I didn’t even realize you were married, let alone had kids.”
“That’s how I like it. I prefer to keep my personal life separate from…”
“This life.” I nod.
His face gives nothing away, but I know I’m right, even if I don’t want to be.
“Thank you for the tea.”
Stephen dips his chin. “I’ll be outside if you need anything.”
When he’s gone, I stare into the tea as if it holds all the answers.
My stomach still churns occasionally, but the warmth of the mug in my hands is comforting.
I trust Stephen to keep his mouth shut, but he’s right.
Ronan doesn’t do well with secrets, and I’ve been keeping the biggest one of all from him. At some point, the truth is going to come out.
Chapter Fifteen
RONAN
The McCarthy estateis a fucking mess.
The rusted gate, barely hanging on to its hinges, should have been the first sign, but the further I go down the drive, the clearer it gets the place has completely gone to shit.
The main house is wrapped in ivy, and most of the window frames are starting to rot. The bones of a once-grand mansion are here, but they’ve been left to decay, just like the McCarthy name.
Kieran gives me a sidelong glance from the passenger seat. “Are you sure about this?”
“Not even a little.”
I’ve met with Callum before, but it’s always been on somewhat neutral ground. But today, I wanted something different. I wanted to see for myself where he rots.
I park my BMW beside an old Mercedes that’s missing both side mirrors. As we step out, I quickly glance around and note the cameras on the side of the house, but I doubt they even work. No burglar will come within a hundred feet of this place.
The wooden front door is warped from age, and the paint is peeling off in strips. There’s even a handful of half-burntcigarettes scattered on the doorstep, the old brick steps reduced to nothing but an ashtray.
I go to wrap my knuckles on the door, but Kieran pushes past me and just opens it.
“Really?”
“It was fucking unlocked.”
The stench of stale smoke and mold hits us first, and I wrinkle my nose as I take in the dim hallway and the threadbare rug underfoot. There’s a dusty chandelier overhead that looks like it hasn’t lit up in years, and there’s a piano tucked away under the stairs, covered in an inch of dust.
“Go ahead and let yourselves in, why don’t you?” Callum’s voice filters down the hall to our right, followed by the sound of his footsteps.
I haven’t seen him since he was tied to a chair and begging for his life, and from the look in his eyes as he takes in the sight of me in his hallway, he realizes it too.
I look around at nowhere specific. “Nice place.”
