The Enforcer's Redemption (Sins of the O'Rourke Empire #2)

17. Declan

17

DECLAN

I sla lies peacefully on the bed, sleeping. My handprint on her ass will leave a bruise, but it's one she'll treasure, unlike the others that are now fading. The ones on her face are mostly healed, but Maeve and the wedding planner will have to help her cover them for our ceremony this afternoon. I dress quietly then press a kiss to her temple before slipping out.

The way she taunted me last night, the Sub-Dom act, was erotic. Isla is finally coming around, and I think maybe she's going to end up just fine. I knew when Sebastian's men attacked us on the side of the road, something shifted. She softened at that point, clung to me. She welcomed my attention and presence after that, and last night, the way she initiated sex immediately after I told her this was the way it had to be… I know today will be fine, as far as she's concerned.

It's the rest of the day I'm worried about.

I tighten my tie, make sure my suit jacket is buttoned up correctly, and make my way down to the living room. The scents of bacon and coffee float around in the air, but I'm not hungry, and given my druthers, I'd take a shot of those Writer's Tears over the black roast Ro's maid cooked up. I need to calm my nervous system and stay focused.

I pass the den where everything inside is layered with pinks, whites, and satin. Maeve and the woman she hired to help with the plans—a leggy mare with bright platinum hair—hold up a dress, ogling it. Maeve sees me, and I nod at her.

"Treat her like a princess today, Ladies. You know she deserves it." I wink at Maeve, who snickers.

"I can't wait! She's going to be a beautiful bride," Maeve calls, and I move away from the door. No doubt, my beautiful bride-to-be will put all others to shame. I'm confident in that. She outshines the sun when she smiles, no wedding gown or fancy hair needed.

Pressing on, I walk to the living room where I hear men's voices. Ronan and Finn are there talking. I recognize the din of their chuckles and the lightheartedness in their tones. It's a day for celebration for them—binding the two families together. I wish there were another way that didn't make Isla feel imprisoned, but our fathers wanted it this way. Mick wants it this way. It's been the plan for twenty years now, though everyone thought maybe Connor would be the lucky goat.

"Good morning," I grunt as I strut in and head straight for the alcohol. They lounge on the sofa casually, coffee mugs in hand. Neither of them is dressed for the day yet, and while we still have hours, I find that frustrating. There are so many things to go over before our guests start to arrive. We'll have the press, members of parliament, and the place has to be on lockdown too. So much to do.

"Never pegged you for the nervous groom." Finn laughs, and I scowl as I fill a tumbler with whiskey, at least four shots. I down them in a few gulps and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

"Joke all you will, but this isn't just a marriage. This is an alliance between two very powerful forces." Just the thought of it makes the dark cloud of anger, gloom, and apprehension float over my head.

"Come… Sit." Ronan nods at the armchair opposite him, and I glower at his dark blue toweling robe, the plaid flannel pajama pants, and his white T-shirt. He never lets anyone see him like this but his brothers. It cheapens the austere facade he normally keeps and reminds me of our childhood, waking up on Saturdays to pancakes and eggs and shooting lessons in the garden with our Da.

I sit across from him, and he shoves the cup of black tar-like Greek coffee in my hand. "Drink," he orders, and I sigh. What would I do without my brothers to anchor me? I'm supposed to be relaxing and reveling in my impending union with a very beautiful woman, and all I can think of is what might go wrong. But so many things could. I can't get my mind to settle. My gut says something bad is on the horizon.

My brother's expression grows dark, and I tense as I sip from his cup. The sludgy richness of the coffee threatens to keep me awake for the next four months with just a sniff, and the first sip is as bitter as the throne of hell. But I drink it down and he pats me on the knee.

"You need to hear this from me, and before you freak the feck out, just listen." I stiffen again as I glance at Finn, whose head is hanging. I start to wonder why Connor and Lochlan aren't here. They were here last night. We were all at dinner, here for the walkthrough of the security for the ceremony. They should be here now, walking me through my last morning as a free man.

Then I realize the gut feeling I have isn't for something that might happen in the future. It's something that's already happened. I can see it in Ronan's eyes as he meets my gaze.

"What is it?" I ask as I set the mug on the coffee table and rest my hands on my knees.

"He struck while we slept, Declan." Finn's tone is tense, fraught with anger and malice. My eyes shift to Ronan as he speaks.

"Sebastian's men burned your home to the ground last night. There isn't a shred of anything left." He says it so casually, as if it shouldn't affect me, but rage instantly boils in my blood. I shoot to my feet and stare at him, not believing but yet at the same time fully trusting my brother. He knew. Somehow, Ronan knew there would be trouble on this, the eve of our wedding. It's why he brought us here, where we'd be safe. We could’ve been killed, either in the fire or as we fled the burning building.

"It's gone?" I breathe, feeling my throat constrict thinking that Isla could've died. How much longer will I have to fight these sick bastards?

"Gone," Ro says, standing. He rests a hand on my shoulder and nods at me. "We're almost there, Declan. We stay the course. They won't stop this wedding from taking place." He is adamant that this alliance happen, the marriage, the signing of a binding contract between families. I'm just trying to survive and keep my wife safe, the woman I love.

My mind shoots to Mick and Brennan, poor Rebecca. My eyebrows rise, and as if reading my mind, Ronan says, "The O'Connors suffered another attack too. They're safe, but their main barn is destroyed." Their main barn. The weapons cache…

"Rebecca?" I ask, fearing how Isla may react to hearing this news.

"All of them. They're safe. There was a fire fight, but they're sleeping peacefully. They've already told Rebecca everything." Finn's comment stings. Going into this without Isla understanding the fullness of what's at stake isn't right. I should tell her, but I'm bound by an oath, the way Mick wanted it. His own bloody shame over his life and the choices he made sickens me. But I know he believes women are soft, that they should be sheltered. Men are different, and had he any sons, this would play out very differently.

"Go to her," Ro says. "Make sure she's in good spirits. Let's make this day profitable for us all, and after that, we'll deal with the fallout."

He slaps me on the back and nudges me toward the door, and I'm the one left feeling gutted. With something so momentous, you'd think they'd want everyone involved to understand, but not this time. Not this secret. The precious cargo, my princess, she's the key to it all, and if I can't hold my shit together and keep her from running, it all falls apart.

Which means no one—absolutely no one—can tell her the truth. Not until that ring is on her finger.