Nolan (Dangerous Doms 3)

The man’s jaw tightens but he nods. “I know what happened.”

“Then tell them,” Nolan says. “Tell them what Clan law states.”

“Bloody hell,” Cian mutters, but the older man curses.

“Shut it, Cian. Was your fault their mum died and you know it.”

Tiernan meets my eyes across the rows of benches.

If she’s gone… we’re free.

Where does this leave us? Where do we go next? I have no idea.

“Means we let you go,” the man says. “We can’t hold you in any way. Under normal circumstances, Clan law states we owe you restitution.” He faces Nolan. “But this isn’t free and clear,” he says. “Normally, a wrongful death means restitution in full, but with the mitigating circumstances we can cut a deal. Their father deserved the death he had. We’ve no proof Tiernan betrayed us, and their mother’s death was on us.”

He stands to his full height, and he’s intimidating as hell. “But I want them gone. Their entire fucking family. We’ll pay minimum restitution for the death of their mother, under the condition that not a fucking one of them ever comes back here.”

Nolan’s eyes narrow. “They leave,” the man says. “Their entire family gets off this land. They never return to Stone City. If they do, our vows not to hurt them are null and void.”

“Done,” Nolan says.

I open my mouth to protest, because I don’t think it fair they make this deal without any consent from me or Tiernan, but Nolan shoots me a look so fierce I immediately clam up.

Right now, maybe it’s best I stay out of Clan business for once.

Nolan holds Cian up by the shirt. “It’s a deal, under one condition of my own,” he says. He gives Cian a shake, like he’s a naughty boy and he’s caught him stealing from his candy shop. “This man ever comes near my woman again, his life is mine.”

The older man’s eyes zone in on Cian. “Done.”

Nolan drops Cian to the ground. He hangs his head and doesn’t protest. He knows he’s lost this battle.

“You know you’ve got a spy among you, McCarthy?” the old man says.

Nolan looks at him sharply.

“Watch your back, son,” he says.

Nolan looks at me, Tiernan, and his brothers. “Let’s go.”

“You have one hour,” the old man says.

“Won’t need more than ten minutes,” Nolan mutters. He reaches for my hand. I don’t know how to respond.

Where do we go now? I have to pack their things up and leave. Where will we go? Do I even want to take his hand?

I don’t know what he thinks of me, what he thinks of us. My family. Does he trust us? Does he think we’re spies?

There’s too much to process, too much on my mind.

Tiernan’s talking to the men behind us, and Nolan’s got my hand.

“Keep your head down,” he says. “And I’m sorry.”

I blink. Why’s he apologizing?

“No talking right now, Sheena. Let’s get you home so you can leave.”

You.

Not us. Not we. You.

Me, Tiernan, Fiona, and Sam.

Why does that make me feel bereft?

I walk in a stupor beside him. I feel like I need a stiff drink, followed by several days of uninterrupted sleep.

“Fiona,” I say, my heart leaping into my throat. “Where is she? Is she okay?”

“Lach’s with her,” Nolan says. “She’s fine.”

When we get back to the house, Lachlan’s at the door, standing sentry. His weapon’s drawn, and the look in his eyes is so intimidating, it makes me momentarily pleased he’s on my side.

Nolan fills him in, talking all kinds of guy speak that I don’t even understand. I catch words like, “restitution,” “code,” “blowback,” and “amnesty.” And for the first time… after literal years of watching them, of observing and spying and gathering intel, I understand.

They live and die by a code that bears them up, a code deeply embedded in centuries of tradition in the land of the Irish. Though their mob has only been around for half a century, their family hearkens back to the days of Vikings and Celts. I’ve seen how they behave. I’ve seen how they treat each other, and I know now.

They aren’t just reckless criminals who wreak havoc. They don’t just think they’re above the law. They’re a brotherhood of loyal men who’ll do anything for each other and for the ones they love.

The ones they love.

How I wish I knew we were in that category.

I take Fiona and Sam, one in each arm, and hug them to me.

“We’ll say goodbye to this home,” I tell them. “And we’ll do our best to make our own.”Chapter 19NolanI know the lass is traumatized. Hell, I don’t fucking blame her. She’s been through hell and back, and no one deserves to find out their mother’s been killed in the middle of a battle for their own life.

We can’t talk now, though. We’re moving as quickly as we can. We’ve been given an hour to get them out of here, and goddammit, I’m doing my best to ensure that’s exactly what happens.