“Do you know what the IRA is, Dr. Jefferson? Really know, I mean. Not the romanticized version from movies or books. The reality of it.”
“I know it’s violent. I know it’s dangerous. I know people die.”
“People die,” he repeated, his voice flat. “Yes. People die. But it’s more than that. It’s a way of life. A code. A brotherhood built on blood and loyalty and the understanding that once you’re in, you’re in for life. There’s no walking away. No retirement plan. No happy ending where you ride off into the sunset with the woman you love.”
Each word was a hammer blow, driving home the futility of what I was trying to do.
“Rowen Shay took over the IRA because it was the only way,” O’Malley continued. “Because the alternative was chaos. War. More death. He did it to protect you, yes, but also to protect everyone else caught in the crossfire. That’s the kind of man he is. The kind who shoulders the burden so others don’t have to.”
“I know that,” I whispered.
“Do you?” He leaned forward again, his gaze pinning me in place. “Do you really? Because if you did, you’d understand that the best thing you can do for him is exactly what he asked and stay away. Live your life. Be safe. Let him carry this weight without having to worry about you.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I love him!” The words tore out of me, raw and desperate. “Because he’s not just some noble sacrifice. He’s a man. A man who deserves to be loved, to be fought for, to know that someone gives a damn whether he lives or dies beyond what he can do for them.”
The silence that followed was different this time—heavier, weighted with something I couldn’t name.
O’Malley sat back, his fingers drumming against the arm of his chair. “You remind me of someone,” he said finally, his voice softer than it had been. “My mother. God rest her soul. She had that same stubborn streak. That same refusal to accept reality when it didn’t suit her.”
“What happened to her?”
“She died.” The words were simple, brutal. “She was killed by a drunk driver in a state she never should have been in. A state she moved to in an effort to keep my son from this life.”
My chest tightened. “I’m sorry.” He was talking about King.
“Don’t be. She wasn’t given a choice to be in this life. She was in it because of me, because of my destiny. She left her life, her son, to protect mine.” He paused, his gaze distant. “I wanted to hate her for it. But because of her sacrifice, my son was given the opportunity to choose his own life.”
“One not much different from his father’s,” I muttered.
His smile was sad, tinged with old grief. “As I said, children bear the weight of their parent’s sins. Had I known he was my son, I might have made some different choices. Eliminated the threats that sought to hurt him earlier than I did.”
Tears pricked at my eyes. “Then you understand.”
“I understand that love makes fools of us all,” he said. “I understand that it makes us brave and stupid in equal measure. And I understand that no matter what I say to you right now, you’re not going to walk away from Rowen Shay.”
“No,” I agreed. “I’m not.”
He studied me for another long moment, then reached into a drawer and pulled out a business card. He wrote something on the back before sliding it across the desk.
“That’s a private number,” he said. “It reaches me directly. If you ever need help, real help, the kind that can’t be found through normal channels, you call that number.”
I picked up the card with trembling fingers. “Why would you help me?”
“Because despite what you might think, Dr. Jefferson, I’m not a monster. I’m a businessman who operates in a world most people don’t understand. And because Rowen Shay taking over the IRA is actually good for me. It means I’m dealing with someone reasonable, someone who understands the value of peace over war.”
“So this is strategic.”
“Everything is strategic,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not also personal. My mother would have liked you. She would have said you have heart. And in this world, heart is rarer than you might think.”
I stood, clutching the card like a lifeline. “Thank you, Mr. O’Malley.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” he said, rising as well. “You’re walking into a storm, Dr. Jefferson. The kind that destroys everything in its path. Having my number might help, but it won’t save you. Only you can do that.”
“I know.”
