Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
I’m in the middle of a conversation with Keenan when she jumps to her feet. We all look at her.
“I need to make a few calls,” she says. “I’ll go back to our room for a little privacy, alright?”
I nod. “Of course, lassie. Anything you need from me?”
She shakes her head. “No. Well, not yet, I should say. Soon, absolutely.”
She fairly runs out of the room. I watch her go, thoughtful. I wonder what it is she needs to find out.
I finish my conversation with Keenan, thanking him when he offers to give me anything I need.
I go back upstairs to Fran, and when I find her, she’s got wads of paper strewn all around her like baubles. I stand in the doorway, hands shoved in pockets. She doesn’t even look up when I enter.
“Have you found Islan?”
I frown. “No.”
She nods. “It was her I saw, I know it. Something else I saw just now confirmed it as well.”
I try to quell the rising panic as I think about this. “If Islan’s here, she’s come with the Welsh.”
“Aye,” Fran says, still furrowing her brow as her phone rings. She takes the call. “Right,” she says, nodding. “And when did that happen?” She scribbles notes on a pad. “And when did he see him? Of course. Yes. Well, I do so appreciate everything you can find. I’m so grateful. Thank you.” She hangs up the phone.
“Fran,” I begin, but she holds her hand up to me.
“No, Tate, please, not now. I have so much I’m trying to figure out here, I can’t risk telling you my hypotheses.” She looks up at me, her eyes pained in apology. “I could hurt you right now if I tell you something I suspect, only to find that it isn’t so. Hurt you so much. I don’t want to plant false hope.”
Her words are an enigma to me. I don’t reply at first.
“Can you trust me?” she asks, her brows pinched together. “Please?”
“Aye,” I tell her, walking over to her so I can lift her chin and hold her gaze. “I can. But you let me know if you need me.”
“We don’t always need the assistance of a man,” she says, teasingly.
“Of course you don’t. Doesn’t mean you should deny the help when said help will make things go more smoothly, though. Just like it would be boneheaded of me not to ask for your help when needed.”
“I got myself into this mess,” she begins.
“In a sense, aye, but we aren’t innocent in this. And if I can aid you in any way, you need to tell me. Don’t let your pride get in the way, don’t make stupid decisions as a result.”
“Aw, Tate,” she says with a teasing smile. “You do say the most romantic things.”
I bend to her, covering her mouth with mine. She tastes like tea and biscuits, sweet and rich. I stifle a groan as her tongue plays with mine, sensual and seductive and all Fran.
“I’ve got a lot more zingers where that came from.”
She reluctantly pulls away from me, her eyes thoughtful, but I let it go. She’s working something out in her mind, and I need to give her the space to do that.
Still, I can’t shake the feeling that we’re on the edge of something… something that will change damn near everything. If Islan’s here… if she’s with the Welsh… we’ll have to find her.
And our Clans will war.
Chapter 16
Fran
I’m trying my damnedest to pull together the pieces of the puzzle, but it feels like I’m putting it all together blind. I’m fumbling with the pieces, with what I know, but I can’t seem to make anything click into place.
I suspect a few things that would change the landscape of everything… and I do mean everything. But if I even hint at what could be… what I think… no. It’s premature.
Patience has never been one of my goddamn virtues.
Without the aid of Aisla and Blair, I’m left with precious few resources. Still, I have a way to hack into the Welsh chain of command. It’s risky as hell, especially if they trace me back to the McCarthy family home.
I have to be sure to block all possible tracking, and I have my methods.
Is Islan safe? Has she come of her own free will?
Is she even here?
I know Aitkens is likely the one who turned the others in to Interpol, I’m confident of that as well. I know now that it isn’t just me, my books, and what I’ve revealed that’s led to all this. The danger runs far deeper than anything I could have orchestrated. And while that fills me with a measure of relief—I can maybe forgive myself for my part in this if I know I wasn’t fully responsible—I also can’t help feeling dread at what may come. For if what I suspect comes to light, the threads of betrayal run so much deeper than anything anyone has imagined.