The young man produces a phone that he takes and puts on speaker.
We stand where we are, listening to the rings on the other end as what I assume to be Dren’s son places his call. I still have no idea what’s going on until the person finally answers.
“You fucking bastard!” Ronan rages. “You’re going to give my wife back. Then I’m going to fill you with lead!”
Dren flashes an ugly grin, grunting out a laugh. “Ah, Ronan… you sound as pleasant as always. But you are not the one with the leverage here. I am. I have your pretty little wife here with me, hand delivered by your own nephew.”
“You motherfucker! This is between us!”
“On the contrary,” Dren interrupts, “she has everything to do with it. She’s the reason you’re going to do exactly what I say. See?Leverage.”
“What the fuck do you want? Spit it out.”
“Patience, Ronan. I realize the Irish aren’t known for it, but you will have to play by my rules.” His gaze hooks mine as his lips stretch into a cruel smirk, and my stomach pits. “You’re going to come to me. Alone. Unarmed. You’re going to turn yourself over in exchange for your wife’s life.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Ronan
“This is fucking suicide,and you know it.”
Killian’s glaring out at the city streets ahead as we tear through Manhattan. He’s driving me toward Simone’s location despite his protests otherwise.
“I’ve got no other choice,” I say. “Dren has Simone, and Eddie’s a fucking backstabbing piece of shit.”
“Wait ’til I get my hands on the little wobbly throated fucker. I’ll rearrange his whole fucking face?—”
“Worry about that later. After we get through tonight.”
“So that’s it?” he asks out of frustration. “We deliver our warlord to their fucking doorstep with no fight? What happened to Sean and the boys? They’re on standby, Ronan. We call them in. Surround the warehouse. Take out every last one of those Albanian fucks?—”
“What part of they’ve got Simone don’t you understand?” I snap. “I come unarmed, and she’s released. Anything else and he kills her.”
“So what, you’re just gonna hand yourself over? Let them torture you? Kill you? You’re the heir now that Lochlan’s gone. You can’t throw your life awayfor?—”
“She’s my wife!” I bark at him. “It’s my job to protect her! I took a vow that I would, and I always will!”
He falls silent, his jaw working like he’s chewing on gravel.
The silence stretches between us as we race down more streets. I stare out the window, my mind calculating the different scenarios of how tonight could play out.
Dren gave the address, and I double-checked it using the tracking device on her wedding ring.
He’s got her at some shoddy old warehouse in Mott Haven. Not typically Albanian territory, but nothing about tonight is typical.
I could do like Killian suggested and round up Sean and the others to stage an attack. But there’re so many unknown variables it could be what costs us our lives. It could be what costs meSimone.
“This isn’t about some wedding vow,” Killian pipes up moments later. “Some fucking alliance with the Langstons—this is about your feelings for her. You actually give a damn.”
My expression darkens as I give no answer to his accusation.
Instead the tense silence filling up the SUV speaks for me.
The truth is, I’m still coming to terms with it myself. It’s the fact I’ve spent months now reminding myself Simone was nothing more than my wife on paper; she was a pawn I was arranged to marry in this feud.
While she was my wife and that afforded her certain things, it didn’t make our marriage real.
Our feelings authentic.
