Keenan stands, nods to me, and accepts his apology with a grave nod. “You will be.”
Several hours later, I come back to Aileen, work worn and tired. I did what I was ordered to, and Tully took it, not even raising his hands to block the blows I administered. Lachlan witnessed, Keenan signed off. Tully won’t make that mistake a second time.
Aileen is sitting by the large window in the living room, a blanket on her lap and a cup of tea in her hand. She blinks when I enter the room.
“You didn’t tell me you were going anywhere,” she says matter-of-factly, the barest hint of reproach in her voice.
“I did,” I tell her. “You didn’t see the text I sent you?”
Her eyes go to my fists, lacerated and covered in blood, and she raises a hand to her mouth. I watch as her eyes widen, as she takes in my appearance.
“I didn’t,” she says. “Hell, I forgot I even have a phone. Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“Would rather mam didn’t know,” I say with a sigh. “She hates it when we get violent among each other.”
“You fought with a brother?” she asks, her eyes going even wider.
I sigh, cross the room, and sit on the couch opposite her. I go to scrub a hand across my brow but stop when I see the blood. I sigh. “No. I didn’t fight him.”
Her brows draw together. “Then why…”
“Retribution.”
She frowns for a moment, then finally nods. “I see. Did someone break a rule or something?”
“Aye.”
“And it’s just that simple? You break a rule, this is the punishment.”
“Aye.”
She doesn’t protest or ask any more questions, but sits back on the couch. Thoughtful. “And what about the woman Nolan caught last night? Is she alright?”
“She’s home,” I say.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“I rarely will, lass. Not when it deals with the Clan.”
She doesn’t speak for long minutes. I finally stand and head to the bedroom. “I need a shower.”
“So this is what I’m bringing a child into.”
I turn back to her. “Come again?”
“This,” she says with anger. “This… barbaric behavior. This is what I’m bringing a child into?”
I don’t want to hear it, not now, not when I’ve just finished giving a man I’d give my own life for a beating that left both eyes swollen and shut and broken ribs he’ll need mending. Bloody hell, I’d have rather fought him square and taken his fists myself than have him just fucking take it like he did.
So I don’t take her bait. I don’t answer. I turn and walk to the bathroom, stripping my clothes off on the way. I whip my dirty, bloodied t-shirt into the basket of laundry.
She has no choice in this. She bears my name and my child, and she was born into this life.
“Not now, Aileen,” I tell her, fucking hoping she heeds the warning in my voice because I’m not in the mood for a fight.
“Is it?” she asks, her voice rising in pitch to match her temper. I turn back to face her.
“Is it what?”
“What I’m bringing a child into?”
“I said not now.”
But she’s on her feet, her hands on her hips. “No. Now. I want to have this conversation. I don’t want you to hide this from me.”
I turn to face her, my hold on my temper snapping like a twig in a hurricane.
Crack.
I stalk back to her. She doesn’t back up or even widen her eyes, but narrows them on me. Waiting, without a trace of fear.
“Hide it from you?” I ask. “Hide fucking what? You reckon I have a secret life I don’t share with you?”
“Aye,” she says. “You do.”
“I’m hiding nothing,” I say, reaching her. “There are details you’re not privy to, but you know who I am. What my job is. And how we operate.”
We stand inches apart. Her chest heaves and her cheeks are bright pink with anger. My hands clench in fists. I could hurt her for this, for pushing me to the brink of anger when I’m at my lowest. I want to take her slender shoulders and shake some fucking sense into her.
“Aye,” she repeats, angrier this time. “I. Fucking. Do.”
I take her shoulders and grip, but I hold myself back. “Don’t you dare. I told you I didn’t want to talk about it. I fucking told you not to push me.”
“Or what?” she says. She shoves my hands off her, then places her hands on my chest and pushes me away. “Or what? Are you going to beat me, too, then? Hmm? Pregnant and all?”
I fist her hair in my fingers and yank her head back. “You reckon because you’re pregnant you get some sort of free pass, lass? Do you?”
She grits her teeth and doesn’t reply. A part of me is happy she doesn’t, because the truth is, she does have a pass. If she weren’t pregnant, I’d stripe her ass with my belt for her cheek and insolence.