Epilogue
Murphy
He couldn’t remember a time he’d been this fucking exhausted.
Even after his parents and his aunts and uncles had been murdered in cold blood, even when his wife had left him to raise an angry, sullen preteen all on his own, he’d never felt the down-to-the-bone exhaustion plaguing him now.
Where the hell had he gone wrong? His cousins had warned him he was spoiling Rowan. Maybe he should have listened. Maybe he should have been stricter with him. Maybe he should have pushed the importance of family more instead of trying so damn hard to shield Rowan from the realities of their world.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
He was drowning in “maybes” by the time he pushed through the doors of the clinic with a nod for the girl at the front desk. With her customary bright smile, she waved and buzzed him through.
As it had every time he’d visited for the past week, the sight of his son in a hospital bed knocked the air from Murphy’s lungs.
He’s safe. He’s alive and he’s safe.
The repeated mantra helped calm the jumping of Murphy’s nerves as he stepped into the room. Rowan glanced his way, only for a second before turning his attention back to the giant tv hanging in the corner, and the easy dismissal was just another knife to his heart.
“We need to talk.”
“So, talk.”
Despite the exhaustion and the terror of the past few days—or perhaps because of it—irritation pricked at the back of Murphy’s skull. “Turn the tv off.”
“I’m watching it.”
Spoiled fucking brat.
Marching over to the bed, Murphy snatched the remote from his son’s lap and pointed it at the tv. Rowan’s indignant cry rang out when the screen went black.
“What the fuck, Dad?”
Shoving the remote in his back pocket, Murphy crossed his arms and pinned his son with a glare that should have told him how much fucking trouble he was really in, but in reality seemed to have absolutely zero effect. “I told you. We need to talk.”
“About what?”
Jesus, what did he think they needed to talk about? “You betrayed our family, Rowan.”
Eyes rolling toward the ceiling, Rowan flopped back against his pillows. “This shit again? It was just some pictures. I don’t know why everyone’s making a federal fucking case out of it.”
“Because we’re at war and you tried to sell the head of our family out to our enemies. You’re lucky it was just some photos and not any real secrets.”
It was the same argument he’d been making to Killian for a week now.
His cousin was usually a reasonable man, but Rowan had crossed a line by including Aria in the photos he’d given the Russians and they all knew it.
They still weren’t sure exactly how Rowan had gotten the pictures, though Killian’s friend Braden was knee-deep in an internal investigation of every single member and employee of his club to figure it out.
Rowan snorted, derision dripping from the sound in a way that made Murphy’s teeth clench. “What’s Killian going to do? Send me to sleep with the fishes?”
“That’s not off the table.”
Under other circumstances, he might have felt more guilty for the way his son’s face drained of all color, his eyes wide with the first hints of true fear he’d shown since all this went down.
Mostly he’d just been his sullen, mopey self about the whole thing, acting as if he were somehow the wronged party in all his because he’d gotten shot.
As though he hadn’t put himself in that situation to begin with.
“He wouldn’t.” Rowan’s voice cracked, giving away how scared he really was. “Killian doesn’t have the balls.”
“I assure you, son, he does. And frankly, if he doesn’t get to you first, it’s only a matter of time before the Russians do.”
“You’re bluffing. I’m family.”
Biting back an exhausted sigh, Murphy met his son’s glare head-on, determined to somehow, someway get through to him how fucking serious the situation was.
“You are, and that’s the only reason you aren’t already dead.
” Murphy waited a beat for the implication to fully land before continuing.
“But luckily for you, Killian is willing to show some restraint, under one condition.”
“What’s that?”
The words stuck in Murphy’s throat. Saying them would make it real, and once it was real, there was no turning back.
“You have to leave.”
Shock flickered across Rowan’s face. “Leave? Leave where?”
“We’re sending you to Ireland. You’ll go live with our Nana and her friend until all this has blown over. I’ll be wiring her some money to help with your initial expenses, but you’ll need to get a job and contribute for once.”
“You can’t fucking be serious.”
“I am.” He ignored the shattering of his own heart to keep his expression stern.
“You fucked up, Rowan. Not only did you betray our family, you involved yourself with people who won’t have a second thought about subjecting you to a slow, painful death now that they’ve realized you can’t deliver what you’d promised.
So you are going to get your ass on a plane, go to Ireland, and stay there until we give you the all-clear to come home. ”
“And when will that be?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a week, maybe a month, maybe never depending on whether or not I can get Killian calmed down enough to be sure he won’t kill you the second you step foot on American soil again.”
There was really nothing more to say, so Murphy let the silence between them drag out while Rowan stared at him, his mind clearly in overdrive trying to find a way out of this.
After several long minutes, Rowan gave a single stiff nod. “Fine. I’ll go.”
“Good choice.” That was one weight off his shoulders. Now for the next. “And Clara?”
Rowan’s lip pulled up in a sneer. “What about Clara?”
Digging deep for patience, Murphy sighed. “Are you taking Clara to Ireland with you?”
“Why the fuck would I do that?”
Because she’s yours and that’s supposed to mean something. Though there was a part of Murphy, a part he didn’t want to examine too closely, that was secretly relieved Clara would be staying behind. “Never mind. How much have you told her about our family?”
They’d always been careful not to get too detailed about the “family business” on the nights Clara joined them for dinner, but there was no telling what Rowan had told her in an attempt to impress her.
But Rowan only smirked in response. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Murphy knew that tone well. It was the tone that said Rowan clearly felt he had the upper hand and trying to prove otherwise was going to be, as they said in the south, like wrestling with a pig. You both end up filthy but the pig at least enjoys it.
“All right, then. I’ll take care of her.”
Considering what Rowan did know about their family, those words should have chilled him. But he didn’t show a single flicker of interest or concern over what might become of sweet Clara.
And that, more than anything, told Murphy how badly he’d failed as a parent.
“Your plane leaves in the morning. I’ll send you the information, and your Nana will meet you at the airport when you land.”
“Fine.”
There was more, so much more Murphy wanted to say to his son, but he’d long since run out of the energy to do so. “Bye, son.”
“See ya.”
Swallowing back the tears burning in his throat, Murphy turned and headed for the door, the knowledge that this might be the last time he ever saw or spoke to his son sitting heavy on his chest.
But there was no time for wallowing. There were plans to be made, steps to be taken to ensure his family’s safety.
Starting with figuring out what the fuck he was going to do about his son’s soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend.
With a traitor still on the loose, Murphy O’Rourke can’t just let pretty little Clara go free—especially if there’s a chance she could be the mole his cousins are hunting for. The only option is to keep her close. Very close.
Whether she likes it or not.
See what happens next in the Ruthless O’Rourkes with King of Secrets.