Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Brendan
I pull my Charger into the castle courtyard, my heart heavy as lead. The ancient stone walls loom over me, a reminder of everything I am—a Quinn. Normally, my family legacy is something I celebrate and would never think of changing. Tonight, I have to wonder what could’ve been if I were Brendan O’Reagan or Brendan Stewart.
I sit on the upholstered bench inside the side entrance, unlacing my boots when Piper bounces down the stairs, her long, black hair swinging around her face. “You’re back early. How did your dinner go?”
I force a smile. “The dinner was amazing, the company even better.”
Piper’s sparkle dims as she studies my face. “So, what’s wrong? Why do you look like your dog died?”
“Just trouble in paradise blues.”
“Anything I can help you with?”
“Not this time, P. I need to speak to Tag, actually. He hasn’t turned in yet, has he?”
“No. He’s in his office with Sean.”
Good. If Sean’s in there, too, that’s one less time I’ll have to repeat this. Dammit. Just thinking about having to go over this with each of them makes me want to puke. Having to say it once will be bad enough.
Piper is about to leave when I call her back. “Hey, P? You actually can do something for me. Can you round up Bryan and Finn and send them to Sean’s office?”
Piper’s concern deepens. “It’s a five-brother problem?”
“Aye, I’m afraid so.”
She grew up in a crime family, so she knows the drill. She also knows when not to ask questions. “Sure, I’ll send them right down.”
“Thanks.” I hang my jacket in the front closet and head down the corridor toward Tag’s office. The weight sitting on my chest grows heavier with each step. Can a man’s heart physically break? Sure the fuck feels like it. Because based on the growing agony building behind my ribcage, I’d bet my blood-pumping vessel was ripping in two.
When I get to Tag’s office, I rap my knuckle against the rich mahogany and wait. “Aye, come.”
I turn the handle and step inside. Tag and Sean are hunched over our father’s massive antique desk, papers spread between them. Tag looks up, his pen freezing mid-signature. “Feckin hell, Brenny. You look like shit.”
“We need to talk. All of us.” I leave the door open behind me and head straight for the wet bar. “Piper’s rounding up Bryan and Finn.”
Sean straightens, green eyes sharp. “What happened?”
I pull the ice container out, drop three cubes into a tumbler, and then cover it with a healthy pour of Glenfiddich. I practically pour it down my throat, letting the entire tumbler empty down my gullet in four long swallows.
The burn is expected and very welcome, the oblivion it brings will be as well. Turning back to the bottle, I get moving on a refill.
“All right, enough with the whiskey slinging,” Tag snaps. “What the fuck is on your mind, Brenny?”
Thankfully, Finn and Bryan are shuffling through the door so I can get this off my chest. “The woman I’ve been seeing, the one from the shooting…”
Finn nods. “Aye the blonde, Nora Kelly.”
“Well, you won’t need to look into her father anymore, Finn. Nora already filled me in on the whole sordid truth.”
“Which is?” Tag asks.
I hold up my finger as I down the second tumbler. Oh, nice. That one hit me with a little buzz. “Well, let me start by saying that I really fucking liked this one. So much, I didn’t tell her my last name. I wanted her to get to know me and see me before the whole Quinn thing complicated what was truly fucking amazing.”
“But then she showed up at the fundraiser,” Sean says.
“Aye, that she did. She and her friend were celebrating, and the friend treated my girl to a night out, not knowing that the infamous Brendan Quinn was the Brendan she’d been flirting with all week.”
“No offense, brother.” Tag places both his hands flat on his desk. “I feel for your predicament with the lass, but why does this warrant a five-brother gathering?”
“Because Nora Kelly is the daughter of Jordan Kelly.”
“And who the fuck is Jordan Kelly?”
“He’s the Europol investigator heading up a task force to dismantle organized crime in Dublin.”
I let that one sink in and watch as all four of my brothers grow a little more pale. “Aye, that was my reaction, too. Drop the fucking mic.”
Nora
“Where have you been?” Da’s voice snaps at me before I’m even fully inside the house. His gaze is hard and his arms are crossed, so I close the door behind me and gather my strength.
I’m really not in the mood for this side of my father right now. In fact, with images playing on a sexy loop in my mind, and remnants of my day with Brendan clinging to me like a manly perfume—heady and intoxicating—I just want to go upstairs and wallow in my heartache.
What could’ve been life-altering was a one-time event.
It’s over.
“I texted you and said I was out with Kate and wouldn’t be home.”
“That was last night,” he barks back. “But you didn’t go to the library for your shift today and I left you several messages which you failed to return.”
“I called in sick to the library.”
“You don’t look sick.”
“Consider it a mental health day.”
“Then answer your messages and tell me that.”
“I didn’t get them. My phone was turned off.”
“I’m aware of that because I tried to ping your location.”
Of course he did . My irritation is trumped by the thought of what he would’ve found if he’d tracked me down. The idea of him showing up at Tag’s loft while I was riding Brendan’s spectacular fingers is too much after the week I’ve had.
I drop my head and laugh at the insanity of it all. My father is stalking me and the man I’ve fallen for is the target of his task force. Man, I couldn’t make this shit up.
“Nora, I fail to see how any of this is funny.”
It’s not funny—none of it. But with my heart breaking, I have no more fucks to give. I straighten, channeling every ounce of inner adult I possess. “Da, I’m twenty-six years old. You need to respect that and give me space.”
He scoffs. “And you need to respect that I know more than you about the world. You think you’re ready to face the world, but you have no idea what it’s like out there.”
“And whose fault is that?” My voice rises and I square off in front of him. “You’ve coddled me for years and I’m tired of it. I’m much more capable than you give me credit for and I’m sorry, but I’m done being pressured into obedient submission. It stops now.”
His jaw clenches. “Watch your tone, little miss. You don’t get to talk to me like that. Not with everything I’ve sacrificed for you.”
His words twist the dagger already piercing my heart, and I gasp. “And you think I haven’t sacrificed? You’ve made me feel weak and small my entire life. You’ve kept me sequestered from life. And when I finally find happiness…”
I choke on my rant and fight the heartbreak that my sacrifices for him have cost me. I need to get out of here. I need to get upstairs before I fall apart or say too much.
But he won’t stop. I need to make him stop.
Before he responds, I hold up a finger to silence him. “In the spirit of having an open dialogue, I’ll clarify something. I went out with Kate last night, but I didn’t stay at her house. We went out to celebrate getting new jobs, and I hooked up with a hot guy and stayed over at his loft.”
His jaw clenches, the muscle on the side of his face flexing. “What guy?”
“Nope. None of your business.”
“Everything about you is my business.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” And since I’m on a roll, I go for the big finish. “And while I don’t intend to see him again, I have no regrets. Despite what you believe, I know my mind and I’m intelligent enough to make decisions.”
The silence that follows is cathartic. I’m speaking my truth. I’m not being disrespectful or disobedient, I’m simply laying it out there for him.
But now that I’ve dropped that bombshell about Kate and me getting new jobs, adrenaline pumps through my veins like a firehose. My heart pounds—partly from fear and partly from the exhilarating rush of finally taking control over my narrative.
Before he can grill me and tear me down, I take a defiant step toward the staircase. “And now I’m going to my room to soak in the tub and spend a quiet evening in bed with a good book.”
His jaw is clenched tight enough that I’m surprised I don’t hear his molars cracking under the pressure. “We’re not done talking about this, young lady.”
I twist back from the second step and offer him a sympathetic smile. “Yes, we are, Da. I’m twenty-six and it’s way past time that I take control of my life and decide the person I want to be.”
Before I turn away, something flickers in his eyes. Is it disappointment or maybe fear? It doesn’t matter. The pain of losing Brendan made me numb enough to take the first step toward breaking free from his expectations.
I shut my bedroom door with quiet resolve and lean against it, body trembling. In the darkest moment of pain and heartache, I stood tall and carved out a small pocket of light for myself—a tiny space to be who I want without apology.
I close my eyes briefly, wishing I could call Brendan and tell him.
But I can’t. I stomp over to my bed and collapse face-first into the soft sheets. The stirring of air smells faintly of sex and cologne and a chaos of longing and loss wraps me in its embrace.
My father has no idea what I’ve sacrificed for him.
No idea at all.