Page 86 of Stolen Rebel

When I do, her eyes are soft. “I’m okay. I’m here. I’m safe. I’m with you.”

“You’re not mad at me anymore?”

“Oh, I’m still mad, but this isn’t the time or the place, is it?”

Guess not. I peer through the window. Murray’s standing at the bar on his phone. A flash of irritation crosses his face. He grabs a pack of cigarettes off the bar and heads for the exit.

“He’s on the phone, and he doesn’t look happy.” I grab Rowan’s hand and edge toward the front of the pub. We flatten against the brick, ears cocked. The door slams shut. The temptation to charge the bastard and smash his face into the ground until he’s nothing but blood and sinew and pulp claws at me, but like Patrick said, if I do that, I’ll never get answers.

Rowan briefly touches her forehead to my upper back. It grounds me in a way only she can. There has to be a reason Murray did what he did to Rowan and to me. Once I know that, I’ll move. Torture would be fun, but it’s widely accepted as a terrible technique to get to the truth. The torture victim will say and do anything to make the pain stop. As much as it kills me to admit it, Patrick is right. We get the intel, and then we move.

“—said yes, I hear you.”

A pause, the sound of a lighter, the smell of smoke in the air. “You don’t have to keep going on.” Another pause, then a snort. “Yes, I will. When she’s back where she belongs.”

Rowan’s hand flexes in mine. I squeeze back. It’s evident he’s talking about Rowan. The only place she belongs is with me, as this cunt will soon find out.

“Fine. I’ll stay away.”

My ears prick. Stay away from where?

“Mam, for fuck’s sake, calm down. I’ll leave it to you from now on. Okay?”

Ah, his mother is in on it. I glance behind me at Rowan, frowning. This whole thing is getting weirder by the minute.

“No, I don’t need reminding that he took her from us. Aisling is the first person I think of every time I open my fucking eyes. Mahoney will pay for what he did.”

Rowan’s free hand curls into my coat. I’ve always thought this was about Rowan, some fucked up obsession he had with her. But it’s never been about Rowan. She was only a tool, a casualty. It’s about me.

Aisling. A memory pricks at me, but before I can lock on, it fades. The name rings a bell, though.

“Okay, sit tight. I’m on my way.”

A car door slams. Engine fires. Tires kick up loose stones in the badly maintained car park.

“He’s gone.”

Rowan peels herself away from the wall, pupils blown wide. “Liam? What the fuck is going on? Who is Aisling? And why is he blaming you for whatever happened to her?”

I roll my lips. “I don’t know. But I’m going to find out. And when I do, Brian Murray will wish he’d never crossed me.”

Chapter 39

ROWAN

Mahoney Manor feels different when we walk back in. It’s quieter than when I left, but it doesn’t feel peaceful. It feels like the moment the body knows what the mind hasn’t yet acknowledged. The last exhale before everything changes.

Liam’s warm palm stays at the small of my back as we move through the hallway, solid and grounding. Our footsteps echo off the tiles, the only sound I hear. He doesn’t try to steer me anywhere, but at the bottom of the staircase, he hesitates, as though he’s expecting me to go up.

“I need a word with Patrick.” His jaw is tight, his control razor sharp yet teetering on the edge of something violent. Something vengeful. I might have been out of his orbit for five years, but I know Liam. I watched the way his face twisted as he listened to Brian. He’s got a great poker face, but not even Liam could hide the surprise at hearing what we both heard.

Who is Aisling? And what does she have to do with Liam?

And his mother? Is she the woman I heard on the phone from time to time? Was I ever in witness protection, or was I just a pawn in a family vendetta?

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask Liam what he knows, but it’s clear from his reaction that he’s as clueless as I am.

“Okay.”