Nolan (Dangerous Doms 3)

“Christ,” Cormac says. “I don’t blame you, Nolan, I really don’t. The hardest of hearts couldn’t have left a babe like that endangered.”

I nod, glad he’s on my side. Mam hears us coming and beams at us. “Morning, boys.”

I’ll be seventy years old and she’ll be hobbling around with a cane and still, she’ll call us “boys.”

“Morning,” I say to her. “Didn’t sleep?”

Her face softens and she smiles benevolently down at the wee one. “Ah, well, you know it’s hard to sleep when you have a whole world out there to explore, isn’t it?”

She’s lapping this up. She comes alive when she’s with the little ones.

“You reckon his mother will come looking for them?” she asks, not meeting my eyes as she shows Sam how he can sit on the stone bench. He swings his little legs and raises a chubby fist to wave at me. It’s a marvel to me that such a little one remains innocent when he’s been handed the life he has.

“Don’t know, but we’ll have to prepare.”

She nods.

“Bring him to breakfast, then?” I ask her.

She nods. “I’ll see to it they all get what they need.”

Cormac leaves to take a run on the beach. I thank her, trot up the stairs to the house, and crash straight into Keenan.

Christ.

“Morning, Nolan,” he says. I can tell by the tone of his voice and posture he knows some of what happened last night. Hell, maybe all of it.

“Morning,” I respond. He looks out the large windows out to the garden, his hands in his pockets, the early morning light reflected in his green eyes.

“I’m assuming you’ve got something to tell me?”

He might be my older brother, but as Clan Chief, he’s the father figure of our group. I owe him the truth.

“Aye.” I take in a deep breath, then I fill him in.

I sugarcoat nothing.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” he curses. He stands with his arms folded on his chest, so like my father it’s uncanny. The hints of gray at his temples were just like dad’s, the sharp green eyes boring into me the very same. “Christ, Nolan, what the hell were you thinking?”

Also words my father could’ve uttered.

“I was thinking it was the right thing to do,” I tell him.

“We’re not in the goddamn business of saving families,” he says. “We’re not philanthropists, for Christ’s sake.”

“Aye,” I tell him. “But think on it, Keenan. She threw us under the bus with the locals, didn’t she? It’s the very reason you wanted her brought here. Maybe we catch more flies with honey than vinegar. She wanted to be brought here. It’s time we took control, and having her family at our mercy could do just that.”

He curses and looks out the window. “You have a point, brother,” he says. I’m actually surprised he’s agreeing. “But I’m not as concerned about the children being here as I am about you causing trouble in Stone City. Did you know the O’Gregors do their biggest drug sales there?”

Motherfucker.

I groan. “Didn’t know that, no.”

He nods and looks out the window again. “That’ll come back to bite us,” he says, but at least he says us. We’re still in this together. He continues, mulling it over while he strokes his chin. “I get why you brought them here, but they can’t stay. I think a call to Father Finn could help. Let’s find out what’s going on.”

He goes back to pacing, his hands shoved in his pockets. “But fuck, Nolan, we’ll have to have a meeting to prepare for blowback from the O’Gregors.”

I nod, stifling a groan. “Aye.”

He still stares out the window. “Go to her. Find out what you need. I’ll call a meeting.”

Today, I need answers. I need to do my job, and do it fucking right.

I check my phone again and can tell she’s waking by the way she stirs. When I get to the room, I shut and lock the door behind me and hear her calling me.

“Nolan? You there?”

“Aye.” I come into the room, and take a moment to observe her unhindered. Light streams in from the window. She tosses her head to the side, her vibrant red hair cascading onto the bed. Bright gray eyes meet mine, beautiful and uncompromising.

She changes with the wind. Which Sheena will I meet today?

I cross over to the window and pull back the blinds all the way to reveal the sea before us. “Morning, lass. Did you sleep well?”

“Aye,” she says behind me. “Better than I thought I would with these damn cuffs.”

We’re dancing in time to the music. I lead and she steps along with me. But I’m tired of playing this game, of waltzing around what needs to be said. I want truth.

I stare, looking out at the sea from the balcony window. The sky’s a bit overcast today, but the sun peeks through. It’s high tide, waves reaching high on the cliffs. A herring gull flies overhead. I open the balcony door, inhaling the scent of salty air, before I turn to her.