Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 54814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
“That’s fascinating,” she remarked, turning to gaze back out over the lake.
“I suppose it would be to a non-shifter. To us, it’s just life. Every group of shifters is different. They have an Alpha who sets the rules for the group. A lot of the older groups, the ones in the old country that have been around for a while, don’t allow marriage to humans. Some don’t allow it outside their clan or pack.”
“You mean some of them inbreed?” she said, sounding horrified.
“Perhaps in a different time, no different than the royals and such back in those times. These days, clans and packs are made up of different families. Wars, rivals, things like that decimate a group and they join forces with another.”
“So your clan. They aren’t all kin to you then?”
“No. They are all my brothers and sisters, but not by blood. Only my immediate family are related to me. We came over from Dublin alone, and we found others like us to create a new, bigger family.”
“It makes sense. Power in numbers, but why the Irish mafia? Why did you involve yourself with a criminal enterprise?’
“Is that how you view us?”
“Isn’t that what you are?”
“I suppose to someone looking in from the outside, we would appear that way, but not everything we do is a crime. You might be surprised at all the good we do for our community too.”
He stood up to throw the steaks on the grill now that it was ready, picking up the pitcher of margaritas and filling both their drinks. She was full of questions, which would normally annoy him, but he found himself answering them without a second thought. Sometimes it was good to just tell people the truth rather than always hiding behind a screen. He could always wipe her memory later, before he let her go, which could be as soon as tomorrow if he got what he wanted.
“Fergus?” she said.
He looked up at her, startled. “I’m sorry. What?”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. I’m fine. Why?”
“I don’t know. You just looked so sad for a moment.”
“Nah. I’m good. How do you want your steak?” he asked, already pulling his off the grill.
“Not like that,” she laughed, pointing at it. “Medium is good.”
“Okay. I’ll leave yours on until it stops mooing,” he replied.
“Don’t wait on mine if you want to eat,” she said.
“Well, that would just be rude.”
“It’s okay. No sense in your steak getting cold waiting on mine.”
“It’s not a problem. I’ll toss it back on for a minute to rewarm when yours is close to ready.”
“Okay,” she replied, looking out across the lake.
Fergus sat back down for a moment, sipping his drink as he watched the sunlight drip off the water as the afternoon gave way to night, the sunrise slipping behind the trees on the other side of the state park on that side. After a few minutes, he got up and tossed his steak back on the grill, letting it warm beside hers before throwing them back on the plate.
“I thought we might eat out here, but it looks like we’re growing quite an audience,” he said, noting the mosquitoes flitting about the citronella torches surrounding the small man-made beach area by the water.
“I’m good with going inside,” she told him. “I’ll get the drinks.”
They ate at the table. She was quiet now, and he wondered what she must be thinking. He was surprised at how quickly she had accepted what he was. Perhaps it was disbelief, despite having seen it with her own eyes. Or maybe it was just having grown up in a rough neighborhood where you got used to seeing things that defied the imagination. Whatever it was, he found her capacity for acceptance more than a little fascinating. He also found himself wanting her again.
His phone chimed, and he pulled it out to glance at it. It was a message from Olcan.
“Set up a meet with Doyle in the morning. He’s supposed to give us the goods. Will see.”
“Let me know. Keep your guard up. He’s a tricky bastard,” Fergus replied.
“Of course,” Olcan replied.
“Good news,” he told Eimear. “It looks like your fiancé decided to play ball.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that if he does what is best for him, he’ll be meeting with my brothers tomorrow to give us what we need to find the women and he’ll be shutting down his drug ops in our territory.”
“And then I’ll be able to go home?”
“Yes.”
“Promise?”
“I promise,” he told her, “but only after we have everything we need.”
“I understand.”
“Good.”
They finished their meal and cleared away the dishes, still sipping on the second pitcher of margaritas. He was relatively sober still, but he could see her getting a bit on the tipsy side. She giggled and looked at him in that provocative way he’d seen when she’d asked him to fuck her. Was tonight going to be a repeat performance? He could take her and she’d probably like it, but it just wasn’t his way.