Chapter 36
LIAM
The fiery rage storming through my body must show in my eyes as I glare at Rowan, daring her to walk out of here with Sorcha’s car keys.
I’ve terrified grown men with the same look, but Rowan…
she just throws a smile loaded with sugar at me, spins the keys around her finger, then pivots and saunters out of the kitchen, hips swaying.
I’m caught between wanting to take Darragh’s head off for using my name for Rowan—like he has a fucking right to—and marching after her, snatching the keys from her hand, and locking her in her room for the next twenty fucking years.
My thighs tremble. I just got her back, like just got her back, and because I’m a fuckup, I risk losing her all over again. And this time, I have no one to blame but myself.
I expected anger. Anger I can handle. Anger is an emotion I’m well-versed in. What I got was this polite, indifferent Rowan who basically flirted with my brother and won over my entire family.
The sound of the front door slamming pitches me into action. I take out my phone and stab at the screen hard enough to crack the glass. Plastic, whatever the fuck these things are made of these days.
“Who are you calling?” Patrick asks.
“Dan.”
He arches a brow. “You’re putting a tail on her?”
“You honestly think I’m going to let her fuck about the countryside when that bent fucking cop could be a hair’s breadth away from figuring out his little prisoner has fled the cell he’s kept her trapped in for five years?
” He opens his mouth. I hold up a finger.
“Dan. Rowan’s leaving the property in Sorcha’s car. Follow her.”
“On it.”
I hang up. Toss my phone on the table. Glare at Darragh first, then Patrick. “You undermined me in front of her. You made me look weak.”
Patrick folds his arms. “You looked weak because you were acting weak.”
I lock my jaw, scissoring it from side to side.
“And if you recall, Sorcha’s car has a tracker. There was no need for a tail. Anywhere she goes, we can find her through the app on my phone.”
“Nope, it doesn’t,” Sorcha says, casually sipping her tea. “Had that taken out months ago.”
“You what?” Patrick scowls at his wife.
“What difference does it make?” She shrugs, unconcerned about his flaring nostrils and fisted hands. “I never go out without security.”
“You remember that tracker helped me find you when Andrew took you?” he grinds out.
“Aye. But until you get a tracker put in every single car you ride in, I’m not having one in mine.
Why the fuck should I be treated differently?
And, dearest husband, before you open your mouth, put your gigantic foot in it, and say something idiotic like it’s because I’m a woman, I would think hard about the consequences. ”
Darragh snickers. I snap my gaze to him. “What the fuck are you laughing at?”
His grin grows wider. “The tough guys getting their arses handed to them by their fierce women. Best fucking entertainment I’ve had in ages.”
Sorcha folds her arms and looks at me. “What I’d really like to know is what set Rowan off? Because the entire house heard you two riding last night. Hell, half the town probably did. Next morning, she’s treating you like you’ve got a communicable disease.” She arches one eyebrow. “Do you?”
“What the fuck?” I snarl.
“Well, something went down. You did make her come, right? Please tell me you’re not one of those selfish arseholes who’s only interested in your own pleasure?”
Darragh doesn’t even try to contain himself. He lets out a belly laugh. Sorcha grins. Patrick slowly shakes his head as if to say “Sorcha being Sorcha.”
I fire daggers at her. “None of your fucking business. Jesus Christ, Patrick. Control your woman.”
Patrick stands so fast, his chair topples over. I thrust out my chest, daring him to lamp me. Maybe I want him to. Maybe if he busts my nose or breaks my jaw, the physical pain will detract from the emotional turmoil of fucking up so badly with Rowan.
“I’m going to let this one pass because anyone with eyes can see you’re in a bad place. But I do not control my wife just as she does not control me. We are a partnership. Maybe you should try that approach with Rowan.”
His barb tunnels into my chest, but I’m not ready to listen to reason yet. I’m too busy bleeding out at the idea of losing the woman I love for the second time.
“Can I offer some advice?” Darragh says.
“Advice?” I snort. “From the guy who’s lucky he’s still breathing considering he used my fucking nickname for my woman.”
Darragh just grins. “What can I say? Riling you up is easy, and I’ve got to get my kicks somewhere.”
I take a slow breath in, nostrils flaring. “Go on then. Let’s hear this ‘advice.’”
“Give her space. The woman has been lied to, controlled, and manipulated for years. Then you do…” He circles his wrist and hand. “Whatever it is you did that made her want to get away from you as fast as possible. Let her have some time to herself. She might surprise you.”
I fucking hate it when Darragh uses logic on me. But he has a point. Brian has done a number on her, and here’s me, trying to control her in a different way, but control her all the same. I owe her an apology I’m not qualified to make. But when she gets back, I have to try.
“I guess I can do that.”
“Big of you,” Sorcha drawls.
I don’t react. It’s what she wants. Sorcha is as bad as Darragh. Both of them know that Patrick and I are the hotheads, and they like to poke the bears at every opportunity. Although these days, Patrick’s a lot mellower than he used to be. Before Sorcha.
Perhaps, given time, Rowan will have that effect on me.
I never used to be this angry. Quick tempered, yes, but the anger that finding Rowan has sparked is poisoning me from the inside out.
There’s only one cure for it. Figure out why the fuck Brian Murray set all this up in the first place.
And he’s the only man who can tell me that.
“I’m gonna pick up Murray. Make him talk.
I’m sick of waiting, and for what? We know he set up the murder that Rowan believes she saw.
We know he lied about witness security. We know he’s kept her hidden and away from me all these years and spent that time gathering intel on us.
And I’m guessing he was the one who set those thugs on me, too.
” My hand drifts to my scar. I stop halfway and shove it in my pocket.
“Wait,” Patrick says. “Not yet. We’re still collecting information.
It’s better if we have all the facts when we snatch him.
That way, we hold the cards, not him. He’s going to use Rowan against you, and with the way you’re acting lately, you’re at risk of killing him, and then you’ll never uncover the truth. ”
More fucking logic. “I hate it when you’re right,” I mutter.
Patrick chuckles. He claps me on the shoulder. “We’re going to find out the truth. And once we have, he’s all yours.”