13. Ronan
13
RONAN
I drive my fist into Shane's gut again, and I'm spent. My chest hurts. My heart is pounding. I feel winded, and that isn't normal for me. My body is a well-tuned machine under normal circumstances, but I've been limited to what I can do lately since being shot. This pain isn't normal. My body is telling me something isn’t right.
"Put the note in his pocket. Get him the fuck out of here. Sending Eamon a message is more important than vengeance at this point." I wipe the sweat from my forehead and sit down on the brown leather sofa in my front room. That bastard's blood is staining my carpet, and I want him out of my house now. Trying to seduce my own brother into joining them will not be tolerated.
"But, Ro… You said?—"
"I know what I said!" I shout, and Finn freezes. A few of our initiates are here. They're the ones who caught Eamon's right-hand man fucking with my family. I can't show weakness, not now, but I won't kill Shane. Not yet. "If we throw a dead body out the door of a car, it'll end up at the morgue. We want Eamon to get our message." My glare focuses on Finn, and he nods.
"Understood." He sucks in a breath, and his chest expands as he turns to nod at the others. They drag Shane away. He may as well be in a body bag for as bad off as he is. If he loses much more blood, he'll be gone before the garda finds him.
"You don't look so good, Ro." Finn hovers long after the others are gone. My brothers aren't soft men, and neither am I. But when one of us is suffering, the others call it out. We're only as strong as our weakest link, and I feel like I'm letting them down.
I shake my hand to work some of the pain in my knuckles out. I may have broken my hand, though that's not what's really troubling me. The pressure in my chest is getting worse and at times, it's painful to breathe.
"Pour me a drink," I tell him, and he glowers at me but he does what I tell him to. It's hard to think that just a few minutes ago, I was in a state of bliss with Maeve. We were really connecting for a second there, and I hope the interruption hasn't scared her too badly. I know how sensitive she is to my business and how much she dislikes it. I don't ever bring it home, but with Eamon pulling this shit, it's hard not to.
"Here," Finn says, thrusting the glass of whiskey into my face. I take it and down it, hoping the pain I feel is just a bit of tension. But the whiskey only seems to make it worse. I press the heel of my palm into my chest and close my eyes. "What is it?"
"Get the doctor," I mumble, hating that I have to admit my weakness to him, but knowing when to ask for help is strength in and of itself.
"Right away," he says, and he rushes out. I lean back on the couch and rest my head on the back rest. I'm sure I've just overexerted myself. I did have three bullet wounds, the scars of which are still healing. Maeve hasn't even removed the thread she stitched me with yet. I touch the spot on my chest that hurts the worst and think of how foolish I am to let my anger get the better of me. I have to be strong, but not at the expense of my life.
"Ro, she's not here."
I sit up straight at Fin's words, darkness already clouding my vision. "What do you mean? She was in the kitchen."
"We checked the whole house. None of us can find her. She's gone… The front door was open." Finn is slightly out of breath. I can tell he's been running.
"Fuck's sake," I grunt as I start to stand up, but dizziness hits me and I have to sit back down. "Find her," I growl, and in a flash, he's gone.
I hear shouts and the flurry of activity, and then the door slams shut and I know they've gone out to look for her. A clap of thunder announces the rainy morning, and all I can do is recline on the couch and hold my chest, feeling every pounding heartbeat. I cough and close my eyes.
This isn't just anger. I know what rage feels like. I know how to be angry and control it. I know how it feels when someone defies me and I'm left with no choice but to offer consequences.
This is different. It's loss and grief, the feeling I felt when my father was murdered in cold blood. The anger is there, covering it up, but it's not anger. It's rejection. It's grieving. It's loss. I've gotten so used to her, so comfortable with her presence in this house, though that's not it either. It's more than just having her here. It’s something deeper. I'm falling in love with Maeve Walsh, and she's just run out of my house, and I'm not sure how to handle that, how to feel about the fact that I'm falling for her and she's still running from me.
I push myself up to my feet slowly and walk to the liquor cabinet, now certain the alcohol won't help, but I pour another stiff drink, anyway. I stare out the window over the front lawn as I sip it and feel the burn down my throat. It's raining hard now, heavy clouds drenching the earth. I can barely see a thing in the distance past my driveway, and I know when they find her, they're going to bring her back here.
I feel out of control and angry. I feel like something of mine was stolen and if I don't get it back, I'm going to go on a killing spree until I find it, except it's not a something. It's a someone. The idea that she could run out on me is more painful to me than the idea that I'd have to kill her. Protecting my family comes easily. Protecting my own heart, not so much.
When I see Declan dragging Maeve across the front lawn in her mud-caked white dress, I lose it. I storm to the front door and fling it open, and he pushes her through it past me. She stumbles a few steps and falls, and I see she's wearing only one shoe. Her dress is soaked, and being that it's white, it leaves nothing to the imagination.
"What the hell were you doing!" My shout startles her. She's terrified, trembling and sobbing, but it doesn't appear that anyone laid a hand on her more than to grab her arm. She starts crawling away from me, leaving puddles on my marble floor, and I follow her. "Get up!" I push her with the heel of my foot, and she falls over. But she gets back up and keeps crawling.
I want to know what she thought she was doing. I want to know how she could just run out after the moment we shared. I'm so angry I could probably hurt her if I’m not careful, which is the last thing I want to do.
The pain in my chest long forgotten, I bend and pick her up, flinging her over my shoulder. She soaks me to the bone instantly, but I march toward my bedroom. Her sobs are joined with angry fists pounding at my back, but I don’t set her down until we're in my bedroom.
"Ronan, please," she pleads. "I want to go home."
I drop her onto the chair and glare at her as I rake a hand through my hair. "You are home," I tell her in a booming, angry tone. "This is your home."
Maeve jolts again, covering her hands with her face. Her sobs grip something deep inside me that makes me realize she's just scared. I stop and watch her for a second and wonder how I can make her calm down. I'm not trying to scare her. I just want answers, which I probably won’t get with her sobbing like this. So I walk over to her and take her hand.
I'm probably a little rougher than I should be, but I make her stand. Then I unbutton the dress and pull it down, remove her panties, and take off her single shoe. She stands shivering in front of me, naked and still crying softly. So I guide her to the bathroom and start the hot water. She has mud in her hair and on her face, and she looks hesitant.
"Come on," I coax, using a softer tone now. She is still reluctant to follow my orders, in spite of my kinder actions, probably because I shouted at her. "Have a shower, Maeve. You'll catch a cold. Warm up. I'll send some hot tea for when you get out."
Maeve doesn't make eye contact with me. She walks past me into the shower and shuts the glass door, and I watch her stand under the flow of water with her eyes shut, crying harder. As much as I want to be angry and hate her, I have to take a step back and realize if I ever intend to show her what it means to be an O'Rourke, I have to give her space. Because if I don't calm down, I'm going to do something that will irreparably damage her. She'll never look at me the same way again.
I head out with orders to guard the doors and windows, but I don't lock up. This house is hers now, for as long as she wants it to be. I send a note to Brigid to bring tea and then I head out. I have to speak with Benny about the escalation. If Eamon is coming after my brothers, Benny is probably high up on the list of names to be poached. I have to head Eamon off at the pass.