Page 48 of Stolen Rebel

He almost sprints the short distance to the bar. Jack smirks and leans closer to say something to him, probably telling him he just got lucky. Meanwhile, all I have rolling around my mind is my girl. My girl. My fucking girl.

Rowan grips my arm. “I’d like to go, please.”

Without hesitation, I catch her hand and tow her outside. After the warmth of the pub, the cold air hits me like a blast from a deep freeze. The wind has picked up, too, cutting through my coat like it’s made of paper rather than wool.

Rowan stuffs her hands deep in her coat pockets, hunching against the wind. She’s trembling.

“Did you know that guy?”

She shakes her head. “He… he reminded me of someone. That’s all.”

“Who?”

“It’s not important.”

“Then why are you shaking?”

“Because it’s freezing. Can we please just go?”

More lies, but this time, it’s not anger I feel. It’s a burning need to protect the woman I once loved from whatever she’s terrified of. And the only way I can do that is if I earn her trust.

Rowan goes straight to bed when we get back. I pour myself a drink and try to make sense of the evening. There was a subtle shift tonight, small and possibly insignificant, but my gut tells me it was more. Something to build on, to show her I’m on her side.

But her reaction in the pub was telling. Whatever she’s terrified of, it’s catching up to her.

Chapter 24

SORCHA

Patrick is in the kitchen when I come in, sleeves rolled to his forearms, hands braced on the kitchen counter and his reading glasses on top of his head like a dirty little slut.

Darragh is perched on a stool with a beer, watching his brother like he’s waiting for an answer to a question I didn’t hear.

Titan lifts her head, tail thumping once against the floor, then she drops it back down like even she’s sick of the tension that’s been mounting around here.

Patrick’s gaze snaps to mine. “Where’s Liam?”

I glide past him to the kettle, resisting the urge to pinch his arse. If I do, he’ll throw me onto the counter and fuck me right here in the kitchen, even with Darragh present. Tempting, but it’s not the time. We need to sort this Liam thing out before the Mahoney volcano erupts and drowns us all in molten lava.

“Probably out doing something stupid.”

Darragh snorts. Patrick doesn’t. He watches me as I fill the kettle, the silence stretching until Darragh squirms and gets up to grab another beer.

When I click the kettle on, Patrick finally speaks. “You spoke to the girl.”

“I did.”

“And?” His voice is gruff, like he’s questioning someone in his teams.

I turn, arching a brow at him and leaning my hip against the counter. “And she’s not a liar.” I tip my chin at him as though inviting an argument.

Patrick’s jaw flexes. “You can’t know that.”

“I do know that.” I fold my arms. “I’ve seen liars, Patrick. I’ve met them. I’ve married into a family full of them.”

Darragh lifts his beer. “Cheers.”

I point at him. “Not a compliment, D.”