O’Nunan snorted. “We were talking about foxglove.”
“What the fuck is foxglove?” Gilmore glanced between us as O’Nunan pointed at him with his thumb.
“Clearly not all of us kill silently with grace.”
Poison was a coward’s weapon as far as I was concerned.
“You calling me dumb?” Gilmore shoved him, and O’Nunan laughed.
“Shouldn’t you both be doing a perimeter check?” Ronan snapped.
Gilmore gave him a mock salute. “Yes, sir. On it, sir.”
O’Nunan nudged him with his elbow. His blond eyebrows dipped as he nodded at me. “Sir. Have a good day. You know if you need anything, we’re here.”
What I needed was for my boss to be home, but that wasn’t something they could give me. The more I talked to them, the more I missed Sloan and our witty flirting and banter.
I raised my chin at them as they left before rolling my head as a twinge spread from my neck across my shoulders and down my spine. I hissed.
“Conall, are you all right?” Ronan stepped up to my side, a dip of concern in his forehead. His blue eyes narrowed as he swept them down my body, as though he’d see somethingphysically wrong with me. It wasn’t often he called me by my first name, which meant he wasreallyworried.
I chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. “Fine. I think I slept wrong and now I’m sore.”
His stare said he didn’t believe me, but he backed away, taking his position right behind me. I hated that he stood back there, but no matter how many times I told him to walk at my side, he refused.
I sighed and went through the greenhouse door. Taking the familiar route to my favorite bench, I brushed my fingers over my flowers and plants, a comforting touch that calmed the irritation and turmoil swirling in my chest. Between the aches in my body—including my head—the sleeping issues, and the hallucinations, I wasn’t all right. But this place was soothing, somewhere I could close my eyes and relax.
I sat down on the bench and exhaled, aware of Ronan moving off to the side to give me space. Even if I asked him to sit beside me, he wouldn’t.
I inhaled, taking in the mixture of scents filling the greenhouse.
“Nice, isn’t it?” a feminine, Irish voice asked.
I jumped and shot a look to my left where an older woman stood with a bunch of roses clutched in her gloved hands. Ronan hadn’t reacted, so I had a feeling she wasn’t...here. Then, why was she here? Fuck, Iwasgoing crazy.
I massaged my temples and growled in frustration.
“Hi, Conall.” She sat on the bench beside me, laying the flowers in her lap. She wore simple brown pants and a pink blouse, dainty and high class. Her silvery brown hair was pulled back into a bun, her sea blue eyes the same color as Sloan’s. I’d seen her photos around the mansion many times, so I knew who she was—Bridget Killough, Sloan’s mom.
“You’re dead,” I whispered, low enough that Ronan couldn’t hear me. “You died of cancer.”
She tilted her head, smiling. “Aye, but that doesn’t mean I’m not here, does it?”
“You’re not.” I ducked my head and closed my eyes, hoping she’d go away. She wasn’t real, just like Dad wasn’t real.
“I loved this wee greenhouse. It was me safe place. Even when I was in pain, I always felt better in here.” She brushed her hand over the metal arm of the bench. “I died here.”
I froze, a zing of shock shooting through me. “What?”
Ronan straightened and leaned to look at me. “All right, sir?”
I gave him a sharp nod. “Fine.”
“Well, kind of anyway. By the time Sloan found me, I was barely breathing. He rushed me to hospital, but I died fifteen minutes after I arrived. I was palliative, after all.” She chuckled the same way Sloan did, but it was slightly lighter and more airy. “He was a worrywart. Always watching over me. It was me time. They gave me two months to live, I made it four.”
I sucked in a deep breath, my heart battering against my rib cage. The thought of Sloan finding his mother half dead broke me on the inside. He was strong and had a killer instinct, but his mom had been special to him. “Oh.”
“He loves ye very much. I can tell.” She stroked her knuckle over my cheek, but I didn’t feel it. “Ye be real good to him, Conall. Take care of him. He’s a hard arse, learned that off his father, but he loves deeply. He’d die for ye.”
