“About that…” Tadhg turned the range top on underneath a large copper teapot, then came over to join Cian and me at thewindow. He rubbed the back of his neck, and the cologne he always wore to cover his real scent drifted into my nose as he told me, “You might have to let go of that deal. At least for a little while. Six… sixteen months, tops.”
I stared at him for a violent beat. Then I demanded, “Tell me what’s going on, Tadhg. Right. Fucking. Now.”
“Alright. Alright. You’re not going to like this.” With a sheepish look, Tadhg took a breath to finally answer my question. “But we’ve done a thing. Basically, engaged the Irish Wolves to acquire something of utmost importance. We believe. S’pose one could call this situation an incredibly special delivery.”
“This is about a package?”
9,500 euros.
That was how much a minute of my time was worth.
570,000 euros—that was what an hour of my time was worth.
So I found myself having to quite seriously ask The Mountain King, “You tanked a deal and wasted nearly seven million euros of my time for apackage?”
The Mountain King grimaced. But not for the reason he should have, as it turned out.
“A package is a bad, bordering on disrespectful term for this,” Tadhg started to say—only to cut off and squint at something happening beyond the window. “What’s she up to, then?”
I followed the direction of his gaze to see the prairie-novel woman running toward the ship deck’s banister.
My breath caught at the same time her two Irish Wolf kings held out their hands, their body language screaming after her.
“No, no, don’t do that!” Tadhg commanded beside me in the same tone he used to talk to the lads playing TV footie matches.
Right before she did exactly what we all feared she’d do—jumped over the railing and plunged directly into the ice-cold sea.
“Well, that wasn’t part of the plan,” Tadhg muttered beside me.
What plan?
Less than twenty minutes later,I pushed through the swinging kitchen door into the mansion’s sitting room, where Tadhg was tending to the she-wolf who’d jumped into the sea, then shown up at the kitchen door a few minutes later looking like a drowned otter in a plain blue dress.
Apparently, she’d lost her black bonnet during her dip in the Irish Sea.
“You poor woman. Sit here,” Tadhg guided the tiny she-wolf toward an antique sheepskin chair that definitely wouldn’t survive her sitting upon it in her current state. Meanwhile, Cian entered the room from the foyer just off the east wall with a stack of towels, which he must have grabbed from the facilities attached to the live-in housekeeper’s ensuite bathroom.
I noticed the housekeeper was nowhere to be seen today, though.
By coincidence or arrangement?I added that to the pile of questions forming in my mind as I watched The Shadow King hand over the towels like some sort of raven-turned-butler.
“Obliged, Cian. Maybe pour her a cup of tea from that pot I was brewing up when I heard her at the door? And you…”
Tadhg thrust the stack of towels at her. “Wrap these around you quick, won’t you? Your teeth are chattering like castanets.”
She grabbed the towels from him but insisted, “L-lock the door! B-bad m-males are af-after me. T-took m-my fr-friends. M-must h-help th-th-them.”
Were the Irish kings the bad males she was referring to? Watching the way they spoke to her on the deck of the boat, I thought she surely must be their she-wolf.
But her accent was distinctly North American, and her claims sounded more complicated than someone simply turning down a mateship proposal.
What had the Mountain King done?
“What’s she on about, then?” I asked, staring Tadhg down and demanding answers behind the soaked she-wolf’s back.
“Not sure,” he answered, his eyes bouncing and refusing to meet mine. "But I can tell she's distressed. So, don’t start."
“Please help us.” The female grabbed onto Tadhg’s arm—by the shirt, thank goodness.
