I shake my head. “No. Absolutely not. I don’t agree, you know I won’t.”
He smiles and nods, though his eyes still look enraged. “Ah, I suspected you might not be that eager. For that reason, there is an option B.”
There are no good options. There never are. I’ve gotten myself in too deep with a man who wields too much power with no means of escape.
“And what’s that?” I ask, not because I care so much as I need to bide my time, formulate a plan. He’s offering me two choices, but I know both will be horrid, and the second one may be worse than the first.
His eyes narrow to slits, and he drums his fingers on the desk. I start at the sound, like it’s the ticking of a bomb.
“What?”
“I need someone to help me pay back our enemies.”
“Pay them back?”
My voice is hoarse, my fingers at my throat. The smell of his smoking and the whisky is cloying, and I’m finding it hard to breathe.
“How?”
He leans forward. “The Cowen Clan, Bryn. I want you to infiltrate them. I want you to spy. Then bring back everything you find.”
I pause, biting my lip. “These are my only two choices?”
My older sisters married and left, but they were forced into marriage by my father. The first was arranged and the second was a thank you. I’ve known for a while the Aitkens girls were only commodities. It was only a matter of time.
He tips his head to the side. “Only two.”
I sit numbly, unsure of how to respond, as he opens his top desk drawer. I flinch at the sound, half-expecting a snake to uncoil from the drawer. I have vivid recollections of him taking things out of the drawer to punish me with. Once he removed a gun and he handed it to one of his men, instructing him to shoot himself, right in front of me. He did. I can still see it, still feel it, still hear my own screams.
You need to steel yourself against violence and brutality,he told me after.
But this time he only takes out his laptop and opens it.
"I don't know if you're familiar with the Cowen Clan," he says. “They like to think themselves elusive, but we know them well. We’ve warred with them for years.” This is the most I’ve heard in my entire life of the business he does.
I nod, wondering what he’ll show me.
I’m not prepared.
He pulls one picture after another up on his laptop.
“This is Leith, the current Captain. Married man, faithful to his wife, so he won’t be an option. Tate, the middle son, may be an easy target. And the last of the brothers is Mac.” He frowns. “There are two sisters, as well…” but I don’t hear the rest of his words.
No.
Time stands still as I stare at Mac’s picture. It's not a recent one, easily several years old. He's maybe eighteen or nineteen years old in this picture. But I recognize those blue eyes.
I look at my father sharply. Does he know about today? I don't think he could, because he would accuse me of betrayal in that vein as well.
I had no idea who Mac was. No idea.
Does he know who I am?
I focus back on what my father’s saying, hoping that he can’t see that I’m visibly shaken.
“You will find Mac. Befriend him. Do whatever it is that convinces a man to…fall for a woman.” He waves his hand vaguely, because he doesn’t know of these things. He’s never known love. He shuts his laptop, scowling. Meets my eyes. “And then I want you to destroy him.”
Destroy him.
