27. Lara
27
LARA
Rory falls asleep fairly quickly after Bree’s call, but I lie awake in his arms, my mind racing. I’d only heard one side of his conversation with Bree, but it was enough to know that he’s struggling with what might have happened to their mother.
I’ve always known that Niall had something to do with my mother’s death, always hated him for it, but for Rory, it’s a different story.
Rory may have cut his father off for years, stayed away from him, but some part of him still loves him.
And I can’t help but sympathize with that.
My father is a good man, truly good, in his heart, but he’s done some awful things. Some things that I’m sure I wouldn’t quite understand. It’s not like what Rory’s dealing with, though. My father isn’t a monster.
I can’t imagine what he’s going through, but I can love him through it.
I watch him sleeping, watch the line of his jaw, how his broad chest rises and falls. I wish I could tell him how much I care about him, how much I want to protect him from his father’s evil.
I wish I could tell him how I feel, but I know that would just be more stress.
Rory’s a good man, and he’ll feel bad that he doesn’t want me the way I want him. After this is over, he’ll go back to his life as an accountant, and I'll go back to my Da’s mansion.
Maybe Rory will come when his nephew is born. Maybe we’ll meet eyes and remember the hot nights we spent together, but it won’t mean anything. Not to him.
My heart aches, and I wiggle out of his arms, being careful not to wake him.
He grunts and rolls over onto his stomach, and I put on his robe, grabbing his phone from the nightstand before padding out into the hallway.
I’m usually afraid to explore the mansion without Rory, but I know that his father will likely be sleeping off all the champagne he had at the gala. If I do happen to run into him, I’ll scream for Raquel.
Somehow, I’ve fallen in love and made a friend in this prison, and I’m grateful for both Rory and Raquel.
I hurry down the stairs, darting my eyes around to be sure no one’s around.
Rory’s burner phone feels heavy in the robe’s pocket, and I step out on the balcony before taking it out.
I take a deep breath as I dial Declan’s number.
He answers on the fourth ring, his voice raspy from sleep.
“Rory? What happened? Is Lara okay?”
“It’s me,” I say quickly. “I need to talk to you about something.”
“Are you in danger?” He sounds more awake now, almost panicked.
“I’m safe,” I promise him, pacing around the balcony, peering back inside from time to time.
“As safe as you can be in the snake’s den,” he growls, and I sigh heavily.
“Rory is good to me, Declan. I promise that I’m safe.”
“Lara—”
“We can’t argue about this now. Right now, I want to ask you about what happened to Bree and Rory’s mother.”
“It’s all speculation. Bree has no real proof that he did it, just a feeling. It’s the things he’s said, the way her mother left?—”
“But how did she leave? What happened?”
“She was young when it happened, Lara, I don’t?—”
I huff out a frustrated breath. “Declan, please . I need to know. Rory needs to know.”
Declan pauses for a long moment, and I think maybe he’s hung up, but then he finally speaks.
“This marriage... it isn’t just for show, is it?”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “Just tell me what Bree said.”
He draws in a sharp breath. “He called her a traitor. Said she was just like her mother. Bree asked him what he did to her mother, and he said the same thing he did to all traitors.”
My eyes pop open. “So, he confessed?”
“Not in so many words, but yeah. Bree’s pretty convinced that she didn’t abandon them. That she was killed. Bree was very young when it happened, and she took over a lot of the work for her father. Thought he was grieving. Turns out he was just guilty.”
“Jesus,” I whisper, my head spinning.
“I’ll talk to Da and Gray. See if we can tap into the family contacts, see what we can drum up.”
I nod slowly. “Thank you.”
He pauses for a moment. “Are you going to tell Rory?”
I sigh. “I think I have to.”
“Stay safe, Lara.”
I hang up the phone and when I turn around, I almost bump chests with Rory. He looks down at me with intense blue eyes.
“Who were you talking to?”
I swallow hard.
“My brother. Let’s go back to our room.” I keep my voice low so no one can hear us.
Rory nods solemnly and takes my hand, holding it as we go up the stairs and back to the bedroom.
“Why did you sneak out?” He tilts his head. He doesn’t exactly seem angry, just confused.
He’s lounging on the bed, and I climb up next to him, letting out a long breath.
“I wanted to help you. Wanted to find out something, prove or disprove this theory that Bree has.”
“And did you?”
I look at him, biting my lip.
Would it be kinder not to tell him? Would it be better? I think about it for a split second, looking into his worried eyes.
I’d want to know the truth. If it was my father, I’d want to know.
“He practically confessed to Bree. Said that he punished your mother like he punished all traitors.”
Rory’s eyes widen, but only slightly. He’s not shocked. He’s resigned.
He looks down at his hands, and I get closer to him, nudging his shoulder with my own and intertwining our fingers.
“Rory.” His name comes out in a whisper, and the words come out of me before I know it. “Rory, I have to tell you something.”
“There’s something else?” He turns his head to look at me, his brows furrowed, tears in his eyes.
I take a sharp breath, my heart galloping in my chest.
I can’t stop the words from coming out, can’t stop the ache in my heart, the push– tell him, tell him, tell him.
“I love you.” I’ve never said those words to a romantic partner, only to my father, to my siblings. I’ve never felt this way about anyone, not ever, and the fact that he might not want me and that he has the blood of my father’s enemy rushing through his veins doesn’t matter.
Because it’s true. Because I love him with all of me, and right now, at his lowest, I want him to know he matters. He is someone’s world. I hope even if he doesn’t feel the same way, it gives him some comfort.
“Don’t say that,” Rory rasps, his eyes searching my face, tears spilling down his cheeks. “Don’t fucking say that if you don’t mean it, honey.”
I shake my head, sitting up on my knees, pleading with him. “It's true. I’m in love with you, Rory, and I can’t hold it in anymore. I know you might not care, that?—”
He cuts me off by crushing his lips to mine, flipping me over on the bed.
I make a squeak of surprise, and he laughs into my mouth, but it’s almost a sob.
He mumbles against my mouth, and I don’t quite hear him. I don’t quite dare to hope.
“What did you say?” I cup his face with my hands, pulling his mouth from mine before I get lost in his kiss, in the way his body covers mine.
“I love you too, honey. I’ve been in love with you since the moment I saw you, looking up at me with those wide green eyes.”
Tears spring to my eyes, now, blurring my vision. “You mean it? You really love me?”
“More than my own life, Lara Murphy. I want you to be my wife. For real. Forever.”
I grab the back of his head, kissing him deeply, and we end up making out like teenagers for a while, smiling and touching each other softly, no lust involved.
When I’m lying with my head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat still too fast, he puts his arm around me, resting his hand on my hip.
“There’s nothing we can do about my mother. She’s gone, either way, and I can’t focus on that right now. We just have to stay the course. Have to keep going.”
I nod, my eyes drooping because I haven’t slept. “And after? When it’s over?”
“When it’s over, we’ll be together for real.”
I can’t help but smile as my eyes close.
When I wake, Rory’s not in bed when I reach for him. I clutch the empty sheets with my eyes closed, frowning.
“I’m right here, honey,” he calls, and when I look up, he’s fully dressed, wearing what appears to be a silk button-up shirt and a pair of gray, tailored slacks.
I can’t help looking him up and down, and he laughs at the expression on my face.
“Get dressed.”
I frown again, sitting up and drawing the covers around me. “Why? Not like we can go anywhere.”
Rory gives me a small smile. “Sure we can. You’re my wife, and I'm Rory Murphy. I can do what I want."
“But your father?—"
“Fuck my father. He let you go out to the gala. And you’ll be safe with me.”
I can’t help but grin as excitement rushes through my veins. “You called me your wife.”
“That’s what you are, aren’t you?” He comes toward me, caging me in with his arms as he climbs on the bed. “Now, get up, wife. Let’s go on a date. We’re doing it right this time.”
I giggle, feeling giddy, and wiggle from under his arms, padding naked to the closet and picking out an outfit—a pair of high-waisted black shorts and a sleeveless top, a turtleneck that shows off my long neck.
Rory walks up behind me as I slip on my shoes at the door, grabbing me around the waist and nipping at my neck through the fabric.
I moan softly and tilt my head back for better access, but when his hands tighten around my waist, I pull away.
Rory makes a growling sound in the back of his throat, and I laugh.
“We’ll never leave if you keep doing that, and I want out of this house.”
He chuckles low in his chest. “I bet you do.”
Rory takes my hand, and we head out of the mansion, not running into anyone, surprisingly. All of Niall’s men must be at their posts, watching over the gate.
In the car, Rory puts his hand high up on my bare thigh, squeezing the flesh there, and it makes me shiver.
It’s oddly exhilarating, being out with him in public. We’ve never done this, except for at the gala, and that was mostly Murphy’s men and other gangsters.
There’s something wonderful about being on his arm, being shown off.
He pulls out of the gate and onto the street, and I look out the window, a permanent smile on my face.
Rory loves me. He really wants to be my husband, and despite our situation with Niall, I’m happy for the first time in a long time.
Rory and I chat as we drive down the street near the mansion, but he suddenly goes silent as we stop at a red light, his eyes glued to the rearview mirror.
I look over at him, frowning, and I open my mouth to ask him what’s wrong when the car behind us slams into the bumper.
I yelp, jolted forward, putting my hands out to brace myself on the dashboard as the airbag pops out.
“Lara!” Rory yells, his eyes wild as he looks at me.
Stunned, my head spinning, I check myself over.
“I’m all right,” I mumble, and quickly look him over, seeing if he’s all right, too, but he’s checking the rearview mirror again and pulling his gun from the sheath at his lower back.
“Stay in the car.”
Everything seems so fuzzy. I guess I’m in some kind of shock, because it feels like I’m outside my body, watching as Rory kicks open the car door, knocking a man to the ground.
I put my hand on the door handle, but then remember Rory’s order.
But what if he needs help? There’s probably more than one man?—
I can’t finish the thought because someone breaks the window, long arms reaching out to grab at me.
I scream, a reedy sound that seems like it’s coming from far away.
I scramble into the backseat to get away from the grabbing hands, but the man comes to the back seat window, grinning through the glass as I cower against the far door.
I can hear a struggle outside, hear Rory fighting with the other guy, and I scream again, louder, putting power into it so that Rory can hear me.
The back door is opening when I hear gunshots.
One.
Two.
Three.
I put my hands over my head, rolling into a ball the way that Da taught me. He’d always told me that when I heard gunshots, I should get low, curl up so that I’m as small as possible.
The man with the toothy grin grabs my arm, his grip bruising on my skin, and I jerk away, yelling, coming out of my defensive stance to kick at him with my heels.
My shoe comes off in his hand as he tries to grab my ankle and falls to the ground.
My heart races, my head fuzzy with terror, and I just know I’m going to be taken, taken by one of Murphy’s enemies, and now I’m a Murphy, too. They won’t go easy on me.
The man grunts, his arms grabbing at me everywhere, and he finally gets ahold of my arm in a better grip and pulls me toward the door.
More gunshots.
One.
Two.
The man slowly loses his predatory grin as he slumps forward, and there’s a hole in the back of his head.
I scream again, my hand fumbling on the car door handle and stumbling out, landing hard on my knee and scraping it against the pavement. I pay no mind to the blood trickling down from the wound.
I have to run, have to go, but I look back, worried about Rory, and someone grabs me around the waist, pulling me backward.
I scream as loud as I can, praying that Rory hears me.
Chapter Twenty-Eight