“Yes.”
My father let loose a string of curses in Gaelige. He tried to teach me the language, but it never stuck.
Jude stepped in close behind me and took the phone. “O’Malley,” he said as he walked away. I couldn’t hear what he was saying over the blood roaring in my ears. Jude walked through the door that led to church and disappeared.
And I just stood there.
Staring at the closed door.
Wondering what he could possibly be saying to my father.
The head of the Irish Mob.
The man who wanted him dead, because he’d hurt his little girl.
My hand covered my mouth, and I felt things I’d tried to bury. Feelings and emotions that were tied to Jude that I had tried to stuff down and ignore.
Because Jude Peterson, the man I loved, the man I would always love, had just put his life on the line by confronting the one man who meant as much to me as he did.
Chapter Thirty
Morgan
It’d been three days since Jude took my phone and walked away while speaking to my father. I still didn’t know what he said, but my father hadn’t shown up in Arkansas.
Yet.
I did call my brother and reem him out, though.
“Why did you call Dad?” I growled into the phone the second my brother answered.
“Hello to you too, little sister.” I could hear the smile in his voice.
“King!”
“I called him because I knew you wouldn’t.”
“How did you know? If Gator called Romeo again, I swear that Cajun bastard will be sleeping in the swamp, permanently.”
“Gator didn’t call Rome,” my brother confirmed. He lowered his voice. “Jude called me.”
I clamped my lips closed.
He called my brother?
My eyes watered at the thought of Jude calling my brother, his best friend, to tell him he was having a baby. After the way he spoke about King in the truck after my appointment, it didn’t sound like their relationship had mended.
“He told you?” I asked cautiously.
“He did. He also asked for my help in winning you back.”
Winning me back?
“I told him no.”
That surprised me, though I wasn’t sure why.
“Why?”
