Chapter 6
Chapter Six
RONAN
I wait until Ciara’s bedroom door clicks shut upstairs before I leave my office to go in search of something to eat.
I know I’m being ridiculous by avoiding her like this, but I figure not talking is better than another fight, which I honestly don’t have the capacity for right now. My attention needs to remain on finding out who is behind Max’s death, as I know in my gut they will lead me to my father’s killer.
I move through the house like a criminal, not daring to make any sound in case Ciara decides now is the best time for round two.
My stomach growls, and I’ve had a permanent ache behind my eyes ever since I brought the girls back from the hospital, but that might have something to do with the amount of whiskey I’ve been drinking as I work and the next to no sleep I’ve gotten.
It’s probably a good thing that Ciara is keeping her distance because I’m looking more and more like an alcoholic insomniac with each passing day.
As I enter the kitchen, my eyes land on the discarded mugs on the table, and a pang of guilt hits me as I think of Mila.
She’s gone through hell and back over the past two days, and my fighting with Ciara, or lack of it, likely isn’t making her feel better.
But in truth, I can barely stand to look at Mila because the guilt I feel at her brother’s death is suffocating.
If I hadn’t gone over to his apartment in a blind rage and beaten the absolute living shit out of him, he could have had a chance at fighting off his killer. Instead, I did most of the hard work for them and offered Max up on a silver platter.
When Ciara finds out the truth about the role I played in her friend's death, I’m not sure she’ll be able to forgive me.
Bypassing the fridge, I settle on making myself a triple espresso and head straight back into my office. The house is quiet, and I wonder if perhaps the girls have gone back to bed to catch up on some sleep, but I don’t dare risk going to check.
“You’re being an ass,” I mutter to myself as I shoulder the office door open.
It feels like a huge crack is forming in my relationship with Ciara, and soon enough it’s going to run so deep that it’ll tear us apart for good.
I have to fix it, but first, I need to try and find out who the hell is trying to fuck with me.
Setting down my coffee on the desk, I slump down into the leather chair and rub a hand over my face.
The stubble over my jaw itches like crazy, but I can’t even justify the time to shave.
Every minute that passes, Max’s killer slips further out of reach, and I can’t help but fear that the next time they’re going to target someone a lot closer to me.
Someone like Ciara.
My phone buzzes on the desk, snapping me out of my thoughts, and I glance down to see a message from Kieran.
Anything on your end?
I quickly shoot back a reply.
Nothing. Not even the kidnapper’s fingerprints were useful.
I’ve barely hit send when my phone starts vibrating in my hand with an incoming call from Kieran, and I quickly swipe my thumb across the screen.
“Seriously? The prints were a dead end?”
I sigh as I lean back in my chair. “It’s like the guy doesn’t exist.”
My brothers and I have been working nonstop to try and find out who the man from the warehouse is, but so far, it’s been nothing but false leads and dead ends.
“What if he was a gun for hire? It could explain why he’s been so hard to trace.”
I hate that Kieran’s probably right, but it’s the only logical explanation.
“If that’s the case, it means whoever we’re dealing with has money and motive, which is a dangerous combination.”
“Do you think it could be someone on the inside?”
I nod. “It’s likely. I think it’s time you reach out to some of your guys to try and dig deeper.”
“I agree.”
“Offer incentives for information if necessary. Just get me something.”
“On it. But I think we should also touch base with Cormac and Brennan.”
I frown. “Since when do you initiate family meetings?”
Kieran scoffs. “Since whoever killed our father seems to be coming for the rest of us.”
“It won’t come to that.”
“You sound awfully confident for someone with no leads.”
“It’s not for a lack of trying. Do you think I like knowing that our father’s killer is still walking the streets?”
Kieran is quiet for a moment. “We’ll meet for drinks to make sure they’re up to speed with everything.”
When I don’t agree with his plan, he sighs on the other end of the phone.
“Problem, brother?”
I grind my teeth at Kieran’s tone.
“There’s no problem. I’m just not thrilled about the idea of leaving Ciara and Mila alone.”
“I thought you increased security at the house?”
“I did.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
I don’t have an answer that doesn’t make me sound insane.
In reality, there should be no issue with Ciara and Mila being at the house, as I’ve brought in an entirely new security team, which I have personally vetted.
Stephen, the man I put in charge of this new team, is someone I’ve known for years and trust with my life, but it somehow still doesn’t feel like enough.
Even with tight security, things can still go wrong, and if anything happens to Ciara and I’m not here…
I can barely even stand the thought.
We might not be talking right now, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t jump in front of a bullet to save her. Her life is the most important thing to me. She’s my wife, and she has come to mean more to me than I care to admit. Even to myself.
“Ronan?”
I blink at the sound of Kieran’s voice. “Huh?”
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
Ciara. That’s what’s wrong.
“I need to go. Organize a meeting with Cormac and Brennan, and I’ll make sure to be there.”
I hang up the call and lean back in my chair, staring up at the ceiling and wondering what the hell has happened to me.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I know I’ve been cold and selfish by keeping Ciara at arm's length when what I should be doing is pulling her closer, but it’s hard.
Max is dead, and I can’t stop thinking about the last time I saw him, covered in blood from the jealousy I couldn’t control. I let myself go that far, and I’m haunted by the fact that he’s likely dead because of me.
I stare down at the countless stacks of files and photos on the desk in front of me.
Nothing but dead ends and paranoid theories.
I slam my fist down on the desk. “Fuck.”
This can’t go on.
After exhausting the last of my leads, I finally leave the suffocating air of my office in the early afternoon.
I’ve barely been able to focus, my thoughts too consumed by Ciara, so I decide it’s time to break the silence because it seems I’m not going to make any progress with Max’s killer until I’ve made up with my wife.
I find her in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and sipping on a mug of tea as she stares out the window, seeming lost in thought.
Her hair is tied back in a ponytail, and she’s wearing an old NYU sweatshirt over a pair of leggings. She’s a far cry from the woman who stormed out of the restaurant the night we signed our marriage contract, but if anything, I think this version of her is even more beautiful.
“Hey.”
She doesn’t even look my way as I walk over to the island and rest my forearms against the cold marble.
“We need to talk.”
She huffs a laugh before sipping on her tea, still choosing not to look at me. “Now you want to talk?”
I ignore the bite in her tone, knowing full well that I deserve it. “I think it’s time.”
“It was time two days ago.”
“Perhaps… But I was too angry to talk then.”
“You weren’t too angry to fuck me. Or was that just a ploy to soften me up so I’d roll over and submit to your demands like a good little wife?”
Her words cut like a knife, but I keep my expression neutral.
I knew Ciara was pissed, but this is another level entirely.
“That’s not it at all. I thought the sex would help.”
She shakes her head.
“Ciara… Please, can we talk?”
I think for a moment that she’s going to agree to hear me out, but then she sets down her mug on the counter and makes to leave.
“I’ve got things to do, Ronan—”
“Ciara…” I reach for her arm, but she snatches it out of my reach, her green eyes flashing.
“Just because you’re ready to deal with everything doesn’t mean I am.”
My jaw clenches as I fight the urge to reach for her again. “Please don’t shut me out.”
She finally meets my gaze, and I wince at the sadness in her eyes, but there’s also something else. Something like fear…
“Tine Bheag—”
“You’ve been ignoring me for days. And now you want to pick up where we left off like nothing ever happened? Well, I’m sorry, but it doesn’t work like that.”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying at all. I’m saying we need to talk before this gets worse.”
“It already is worse.” She steps past me. “And I’m tired, Ronan. I’m tired of being your emotional punching bag. I’m hurting too, but you only seem to care about how any of this affects you.”
“I’m sorry. I know I’ve not been fair to you.”
“You’ve been like a stranger, Ronan. I don’t even recognize you right now.”
Fuck.
Is that how she really feels?
“When I’ve needed you the most, you haven’t been there.
Any time I need you, you shut me out, disappear.
It’s always about what you want, what you need, never a thought about me.
Even now, you are ready to talk and assume I’m just here waiting and willing for your crumbs.
Well, I’m sorry, but I have feelings too.
And if this is how you are when things get rough, then I want no part of it. ”
Before I can respond, Ciara turns her back on me and stalks from the room.
I don’t try to stop her as she leaves or offer any other words of comfort, because I have none.
The fact is, Ciara was in pain the moment she learned of Max’s death, and the only thing I’ve offered her is coldness and silence. Instead of consoling her, I’ve only added to her pain, so she has every right to be angry with me.
I couldn’t put my own anger aside long enough to be there for her as she deals with her grief, leaving her feeling even more alone.
I was a fool to think she would accept my apology when, quite frankly, I don’t deserve it.
As Ciara’s footsteps disappear upstairs, I’m left wondering if I’m even capable of fixing what I’ve so thoroughly broken.