Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 78773 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78773 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
“I’m not ready to go home yet,” she says softly. Frowning, she tips her head to the side. “Who’s with Breena?”
“Her nanny’s spending the night so she can help with the wedding in the morning.”
She nods. I continue.
“Want to take a walk, then?”
“Aye,” she says. “Would you mind?”
“Hell no,” I tell her. “Not at all.”
“Down by the water?” she asks.
I smile. “It’s where the McCarthys find their peace, isn’t it?” Every one of them walks it off down by the water. Last month, Cormac fulfilled a contracted hit, the first one we’ve done in years. Keenan rarely allows them, but we owed those who asked a favor. I don’t know the details. With certain jobs, he keeps the details to himself, for the sake of all. But I know that Cormac walked the shores of the Irish sea every damn morning for two weeks. None of them hesitate when it comes to protecting the Clan, our safety, our honor. But cold blood is another story.
She smiles. “Not you, though? You don’t find your peace here?”
“There’s nowhere I find my peace,” I say without thinking. Immediately, I wish I hadn’t said anything at all.
We walk by the cliffs, the churning sea below us. It’s colder here, and I automatically shield her from the biting wind, standing on the edge nearest the cliffs.
“The girls ready for the wedding?” I ask. Yeah, I’m quite the conversationalist.
“Aye,” she says. “I mean, more or less.”
Is anyone ready to marry a man in the mob?
“Are you all ready?”
I smile and shrug. It’s a cute question. Cormac has the ring and Nolan has the tux. Is there anything else we need to do?
“More or less.”
We chatter easily about the wedding, Nolan and Sheena, how Sheena’s brother Tiernan’s doing at our finishing school. She talks about work and how she has a shift at the hospital Sunday, she asks me about Breena and how the new nanny’s working out. I listen, I nod, I say the right things.
But my mind is elsewhere.
Megan was Eve’s mate. How would Eve feel if she knew I was attracted to Megan? Would she want me to find someone else, to love again?
And does what she would’ve wanted matter?
The very thought makes me feel like a traitor.
I walk her back to the mansion. The guards merely nod. Trained and expected to mind their own business, their only job is to protect. And they don’t need to worry about her tonight. I’m with her.
We’ve reached the door.
“Well, then,” she says, her hand on the doorknob awkwardly. “See you… tomorrow?”
“Aye,” I say. In just a few hours at this rate. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” But I leave her with a warning. “And for the love of Christ, woman, get in this house and no more late-night wandering without a guard. If you need to go somewhere, call me.”
She nods and gives me a little salute. “Yes, sir,” she says, but there’s more than teasing in her voice. Something stirs in me at her words.
And then she’s gone.
Maeve’s been telling me to get a nanny for months. The Clan matriarch, mother to Nolan, Cormac, and Keenan, Maeve’s granny to all the children of the Clan.
“It’ll be best for all,” she said gently. “Let’s be honest, Carson. You can’t be both mum and dad to wee Breena.”
And she was right. I hated to face it, hated to admit it, but I have a job to do and it isn’t exactly the type of job where you can have a “shadow day with dad” at the office.
Granted, as Clan bookkeeper, much of my work takes place in an office with my computer. And it’s the only reason I got away with taking Breena with me for so long.
But there are other jobs required of a man of the Clan.
And soon… when I knew what I had to do, who I had to become… having a nanny for the baby was a necessity.
The nanny was asleep on the couch when I came in, but this morning when I woke up, she was nowhere to be found. I finally found a piece of paper on the kitchen counter.
Mr. Flynn, I am so sorry, but I can’t work for you today. I had to get home. Everyone is fine, but mum needs me. She’s sick. I didn’t want to wake you.
I place down the note and stare at it blankly, still trying to process. Knowing what I do for my job, who I’m involved with, and—bloody hell, who I am—well, I wouldn’t be surprised if the nanny didn’t give me the truth in the note. I thought that keeping her apart from the McCarthy mansion that overlooks the sea, our headquarters and meeting place, would help keep my identity a secret.
Maybe not.
Or hell, maybe her mother is sick.
Bloody hell. What now?
I do what I do every fucking day and have for months. I scan the news to see if there’s anything new, a lead I should follow for the O’Gregors. Anything amiss, any little tidbit that can shed light on the undercover work I’ve been doing. I scroll through the feed I’ve set up on my phone, note every transaction I ghost. And after I’m done, I clear my phone, erase any traces of snooping, and put my phone down.