“Don’t ask me to tell you, please.”
“We’re not in a place where we can afford secrets right now. I’d be mistaken not to.”
“Tate, sometimes what’s sacred between sisters or friends has to stay sacred. God, I never should have said anything.”
“There were a lot of things you shouldn’t have done.”
She flinches. I go on.
“And we can keep what’s sacred, sacred. But I know things that involve Islan that you don’t, and suffice it to say, it’s in her best interest for me to know everything.”
She groans. “First, let’s finish what we were talking about.”
I think on it, then exhale. “Aye, but we’ll circle back to this.”
“Aisla keeps me informed about Wales, and everything your mum said was corroborated by her.”
I nod. “Go on.”
She leans back on the sofa, getting comfortable. Jesus, she looks lovely there, all snuggled up in the corner. This morning when we went up to the house, she hadn’t done her hair or makeup. Now, her hair is dried all wavy and cute, framing her face in a way that makes me want to kiss her.
She tucks her knees up to her chest. I’ve studied human behavior before, and body language. I have to do my job. And the way she’s sitting now tells me she’s unconsciously protecting herself. She’s scared of what I’ll do to her.
And while a part of me rejoices in that, and says yes, that’s exactly what I want, I want her to fear me… a part of me doesn’t.
I liked Fran vulnerable and trusting.
And I’ll do what it takes to bring her back.
So I push myself up from the chair and cross the room to her. I sit beside her. She shifts a little but continues to speak, and I don’t touch her quite yet.
“I’ve got a contact in the McCarthy Clan, too,” she says quietly. She twirls a piece of hair between her fingers and looks away, as if she knows she shouldn’t be telling me this.
I reach for her, my fingers gently rubbing the back of her neck. She moves a little closer to me.
“Who, Fran?”
I know all the McCarthys. They visit us from time to time, and we’re in regular contact.
“Well…” she begins. “You have kitchen help here, don’t you?”
“Mhm.”
“And Mary Brody’s one of them.”
“Aye.”
She blows out a breath. “Understand that none of them really knew what they were doing, Tate.” She winces when her eyes meet mine. “I lied through my teeth.”
I nod. “Tell me.”
“You should punish me again for this, you really?—”
“Tell me.”
Her words fly out in a rush. “Mary’s got a sister named McKenna. I’ve been in touch with her, only she doesn’t really know it.”
“How can she not know it? How does that work?”
