Liam
“What the fuck was that?” Darragh hisses at me as we make our way, once again, down the corridor to leave the O’Toole estate.
“I’m going to marry that girl, Darragh,” I tell him flatly. “She will be my wife. If you or anyone else think I would just walk out while she was getting her ass handed to her by three men in the O’Toole clan, then you don’t know shit about me.”
To my utter shock, Darragh laughs. “You’re not right in the head, boyo. I know that much.”
I nod at this. “No, I don’t suppose I am.”
I climb into the driver’s seat, while Darragh folds his big body into the passenger’s side. “We should probably discuss this with your Da, since you think you’re still getting married.”
“Where the hell did he go?”
My father peeled out of the O’Tooles’ circular drive so fast, he left skid marks. Two of his men flanked him as he left, muttering curses the entire way.
Darragh pulls up his phone. “He’s headed to your place.”
“Fuck,” I mutter. “Text Ryan.”
Darragh sighs, but does as I ask. My brother will want to make himself scarce if our father is en route.
“I appreciate that you all think I’m an idiot,” I tell Darragh evenly. “But, for the life of me, I can’t comprehend why you’d call Taryn and me there if you weren’t going to let either of us speak.”
“What would that have solved?” He asks the question with no malice. He’s absolutely serious. Jesus Christ.
“I know about the money,” I snarl at him. “I understand the investment, how it got there, and why it was created. I’m involved.”
“What the fuck, Liam?” Darragh shouts.
“I kept saying you were making a mistake, but you wouldn’t shut your fucking mouth.”
“Why didn’t you force the issue? Dear fucking god. This is a mess.”
I sigh. “Oh, it’s going to get worse before it gets better.” I turn to glance at him as I change lanes. “And if you ever liked me even a little, try to remind the old man that I’m his heir, alright? Don’t let him kill me. At least, not today. He should really sleep on it first.”
“Fucking crazy ass kid,” Darragh mutters before he starts texting God knows who.
I sigh. The truth is: Taryn is the kind of beautiful that makes men stupid, and I’m the worst of them. I may have just made a very bad decision on this one, but I don’t think I’m wrong here.
Yes, I’ve become singularly focused on this girl.
I admit it. Regardless, we do still need the alliance.
It’s obvious we’ve scared the Greeks with the engagement, so they’ve attempted to thwart it.
Dropping information into our laps about Taryn’s investments.
It’s a power play. She may have unwittingly given them the ammunition, but we are the ones who decide if they get to pull the trigger.
We can’t let them be successful. We need the alliance and I need Taryn.
Easy enough. All signs should point to a wedding chapel this summer.
Of course, my father won’t see it that way.
His pride won’t allow it. He can’t stand thinking that someone in his family would be a sucker.
Inviting the Greeks’ dupe to take our last name wouldn’t work.
I have to give him another palatable story.
One to replace the narrative he’s created in his head.
I have about thirty minutes to come up with that new story before we reach my house.
He already thinks I’m a fuckup. I have nothing to lose on that account.
I’ve about got it figured out when we reach campus.
Timing really is everything, because I catch sight of Taryn’s ex-boyfriend strolling down the sidewalk with some oil tycoon’s kid.
The shadows of my past violence loom across Sam’s face, which is a patchwork of swelling and discoloration.
Poor son of a bitch must have decided he’d recovered enough to go outside again.
I swerve my Range Rover over the curb, ignore Darragh’s colorful exclamation, and slam on the brakes when my vehicle fishtails about a foot in front of Sam and his buddy. I am out of the vehicle before Sam has time to comprehend what is happening.
As soon as he sees it’s me, he begins shouting, arms out in front of him. “We’re on campus! Jesus! We’re on campus!”
I laugh. I can’t help it. What a pussy. The sound startles Sam so much, he turns and runs. He gets maybe forty feet before he slides on a patch of ice and falls onto his ass. Of course, this only makes me laugh harder. I stroll over to meet him.
“What the fuck, Liam?” Darragh calls to me. I look back to find him leaning against my SUV, arms crossed, bewildered expression on his face.
“I’ll just be a minute,” I holler back. “Sorry for the delay. Saw a friend I want to catch up with.”
Darragh’s dry laughter rings out through the cold air. “Friend. Got it.”
“So…”—I look down at Sam—“you stopped by to warn Taryn about something a few days ago. Shame you didn’t come to me instead.” I grin at him. “It’s not going to end well for you. Friend.”
“I—I didn’t do anything.” Sam isn’t even attempting to get up from his seated position on the ground.
Jonathan Rivers, his rich friend, stands several feet away with his mouth open, eyes volleying between us.
Funny, since I caused the canvas of blues, purples, and yellows that is now his face, Sam has much less bravado than when I met him on Taryn’s doorstep.
“Really? So, you didn’t move her money around?” I laugh again. “Ya know, most people think that because I’m so pretty, I’m also dumb. Are you making that mistake, Sam?”
He shivers. “No!”
“So you don’t think I’m pretty? Because—”
“Jesus Christ, Liam. What do you want from me?” His voice is a whine.
“How long were you funneling her money to Theo?”
“I—I wasn’t—”
I take a step forward.
“He found out a few days ago that I’d been helping her invest. I didn’t tell him. I swear it. He asked for account numbers. I gave them. I didn’t have a choice. I even stopped by to tell her, but then, you got all pissed.”
I nod at this. “Yeah. I remember that night differently. Friend.”
“Liam,” Darragh calls to me. “You want to wrap this up? Your father is getting anxious to see us.”
I wave at him.
“I didn’t have a choice,” Sam repeats. “I didn’t move anything. I just gave the account numbers. And, uh, passwords. That’s all. I didn’t have a choice.”
“There’s always a choice.” I shake my head in an exaggerated motion. “I’m sorry you made the wrong one. But, as you pointed out, we’re on campus. I won’t address it now.”
“No, wait. Listen—”
“Heal up quick, Sam, but don’t get too comfortable. We Irish are sentimental about unfinished business.” I wink at him before turning to jog back to Darragh.
“Do I want to know?” he asks me as he straightens against the car.
“Not even a little bit,” I joke before opening my door and climbing behind the wheel. Might as well get this meeting with my father over with. At least now I have a better idea of what happened and how to spin this.
When I walk into my living room, my father sits alone with a glass of his favorite aged Teeling single malt in hand. “Sit.”
I amble farther into the room. I can’t read his expression; however, he doesn’t leave me guessing when he turns to Darragh.
“Leave us.”
Darragh swallows. “Kian, there’s more—”
“I said. Leave. Us.” My father’s voice is lethal.
Darragh doesn’t need to be told a third time. He bows his head before heading back outside into the cold. I don’t blame him. It’s bound to be warmer out there than it is in this room.
“I understand that you knew about the redhead’s activities,” my father grits out. At least now I know who Darragh was texting.
“Her name is Taryn,” I say evenly. I’m careful with my tone.
I know what my father is like when he gets this way.
He is on the verge of cracking and nothing—not one damn thing—will get accomplished if that happens.
I’ll end up with a fist in my face and nothing to show for it.
I school my features so I’m expressionless.
“Taryn,” he repeats dully. “Taryn Kathleen Walsh. Daughter of Michael Walsh, second in New York’s clan. The woman who was supposed to unite us. The woman who has been sending money to our enemies. Yes, son, I know her name.”
I say nothing. Not yet. He’s not done.
“She’s been sending them money they have been using to steal our products and kidnap innocent women.
I wonder”—his eyes sharpen on me—“do you think Taryn Walsh would be a fair trade for them to stop all of this? One woman so they quit taking the rest? She’s quite a looker.
Nice pedigree. Would fetch a high price. ”
My hand clenches into a fist. I grit my teeth and force air in my lungs. I meet my father’s eyes. He’s looking for a reaction.
“That’s what I thought,” he sneers at me. “You’ve gone soft over some pussy.”
“She is going to be my wife,” I say calmly. “Once you know the whole story, I’m sure you’ll agree she shouldn’t be spoken about that way.”
“Your wife?” my father roars as he stands. So much for keeping things calm. “She’s a moron who gave our enemies insight into Irish accounts.”
“She’s the woman who did what her man asked without question,” I say with a straight face. “She moved the money exactly where I told her to.”
My father shouts, “Feckin’ eejit,” as his tumbler detonates against the wall, spraying glass. Amber whiskey snakes down the white paint. “What the feck did you do, boyo?” The vein in his forehead is throbbing.
“I’ve been seeing Taryn for a while now,” I respond with restrained calm. “On and off for a year. Maybe a little longer.”
He sucks in a breath at this and paces away, listening to my lie.