Ciaran
I drove her to my house, because I’d never managed to get ahold of the boys and I was quickly running out of places to go. It wasn’t like I could just drop her off at the bus station and hope no one spotted her on the way out. And maybe my house wasn’t the best of ideas, but Shane didn’t know exactly where it was since I’d made the move recently and it was far enough out of town that maybe we’d be safe up there. At least for a little while. If I were lucky, I could get ahold of someone in the Lucky Skulls, get a plan going, and take care of everything. And hopefully I could get Elle to stick it out here while I did that.
When I pulled the truck up around the back of the house, I parked beneath the carport where there was only a little bit of snow around the edges. I turned off the engine and glanced at Elle. Her hair was drying thanks to the heater and had started to curl into soft waves, the ends forming small curlicues. The dress made her look vintage, from another time where the good guys always won and everyone knew exactly who the bad guys were.
“What?” she asked, her voice soft and scared. “Is someone here, too? Are we safe?”
I could hear the fear in her voice, but there was sadness, too. I realized she’d mistaken my lingering in the cab as a sign that there was danger. I shook my head. “No, everything’s fine. This is my house and it’s pretty out of the way. No one’s going to find us here.” At least not for a while.
She let out a shaky breath of air, but nodded, putting all of her trust in me. It was almost unnerving the way she was willing to do that, but I was grateful. It made everything easier.
Making sure I had the shotgun with me, I led her to the house, which was pretty big considering I was a full time bachelor and spent half my time out of the house. It was two stories with a basement. Two bedrooms, one extra room I used for weights, a kitchen, living room, den, and utility room. The basement had the washer and dryer as well as an additional exit via outside cellar doors. I enjoyed the space, though there were times when it was just too much for one person. Even so, right now I wished it were smaller. After being shot at and followed by Shane’s men, after what happened to Ma.
I shook my head. I couldn’t think about her right now. The image of her body lying on the floor in a pool of her own blood was too damn much. That was the woman who raised me. Who cared for me when no one else gave a damn. She wasn’t my blood, but she was more my mother than anyone else ever had been or would be. I owed her everything, and now she was dead.
It ate me up inside and made me want to just sit down. To crumple and say fuck it. To have a moment where I could grieve.
But I didn’t have those moments right now. I had to get Elle to safety, regroup the Lucky Skulls, and somehow stop Shane—because now I knew he couldn’t be reasoned with. After all, Marie Sullivan had raised him, too.
I took her into the house and quickly bumped up the thermostat. I kept it pretty low while I was out, so the house was chilly, but it was still better than outside. “It’ll take a minute for it to kick in,” I told Elle. “But I’ll make a fire.”
She nodded, hugging herself tightly. For warmth and for comfort both.
I stacked several logs into the fireplace there in the den, then scrunched up some newspaper for kindling. I struck a match and the fire lit instantly. It took a second for the logs to catch, too, but when they did they burned brightly. When the fire was glowing steadily, I got up and went to the couch that was facing the fireplace. There was a knit throw blanket laid across the back of it; I grabbed that and threw it about Elle’s shoulders. She looked startled, like she’d forgotten I was here.
“Oh God, Ciaran,” she muttered. Tears were forming in her angelic blue eyes. Reaching for me, she wrapped her slender arms around my waist and buried her face in my chest. I was surprised, but embraced her easily, stroking her long brown hair. “She’s dead. I can’t believe…how could they just…?”
“Shh,” I told her gently. “It’s okay.”
She pulled back from me. “Okay?” she demanded, her eyes wide and her expression incredulous. “How can you say that? She was your mother!”
And that was when the dumbest thing ever slipped out of my mouth. “Not my biological mother.”
Horrified, Elle took a step back from me.
Realizing just how terrible that sounded, I shook my head and tried to clarify. “That came out all wrong. I mean, she didn’t give birth to me, but she was more mom than someone like me ever deserved. She was the sweetest damn woman.” I stopped because I felt a lump forming in my throat. I wasn’t the type to lose my shit over anything, but this was Ma and I wasn’t quite sure what to do with this. “I just meant that Ma took a lot of people in. Even when they didn’t deserve it. And some of them didn’t turn out so well. She knew the risks…and that doesn’t make any of this better.”
Elle’s expression softened as sympathy welled in her eyes. She stepped back towards me, reaching out to lay a delicate hand on my arm. “I’m so sorry. She seemed like such a sweet woman.”
I nodded. “She was.”
I didn’t want to talk about her right now. Couldn’t. “Listen, why don’t you sit by the fire and I’ll see if I can make us some food? I need to make some calls anyway.”
Elle frowned at me for a moment, then glanced towards the burning fire. There was intense need in her eyes and it was clear she wanted desperately to go to it. But she hesitated. “You’re going to call the police?” she questioned.
I blanched. “Police?” Why the hell would I want to involve them?
“Yeah. To tell them…what happened.” She hesitated. “With your mom.”
My throat tightened, but I swallowed several times to clear it. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Her brow furrowed. “Why not?”
I shook my head. “It’s complicated.”
She folded her arms across her chest, the fabric of her dress tightening across her breasts, which were already straining. She was definitely more endowed than Ma had been in her youth. “Tell me, or I’m going to call the police myself.”
That is definitely not a good idea.
Sighing, I realized I was going to have to give her something. People were shooting at her. Someone was dead. She needed something to keep her together. Running a hand nervously through my hair, I decided there were pieces I could give her, and pieces I couldn’t. “What if I told you the police wouldn’t be very helpful?”
“Why not? Someone’s dead, Ciaran! Stopping those crazy men is their job!” Elle protested.
I winced. In a black and white, perfect world, that would be the truth. But mine was full of gray truths. Shane was the bad, but I was no hero. I wasn’t sure anyone would call me the good guy, even if Shane was the bad. But I needed a reason to explain all of this to Elle without making her want to head for the hills. Mostly because there was no way she was getting out of here without one of Shane’s men spotting her now.
Finally, I said, “The man who sent those men, his name is Shane McCarthy. And he’s my brother. Adopted, just like me.”
Elle’s eyes went wide with disbelief. “And he just…just killed her like that? In cold blood?”
“He was never quite right,” I told her, and that was true. Pa had favored me, yes, but it was because Shane had always shown the wrong kinds of signs to Pa. He’d sensed something off in him. “But Shane also didn’t do it himself. He sent one of his guys, who apparently didn’t care who she was.”
“That doesn’t explain why you don’t want to go to the police,” she pointed out. “I know he’s your brother, but if he’s okay with murder—”
I stopped her there. “That’s not it. He needs to pay. There is no avoiding that now. But going to the police is…risky.” Because they’ll probably arrest me, too.
“Why?” Elle demanded again.
“Because Shane has guys working for him. Guys in the police force.” It was the truth and I suddenly felt stupid for not going to that in the first place. What better reason to not trust the police?
Elle frowned, looking more worried than ever, but she looked convinced, too, which was definitely a good thing. I needed her to understand that it was a bad idea to go to the police. That way she wouldn’t try something stupid on her own if I wasn’t around.
“Why…” She shook her head and tried again. “What do you mean that he has guys in the police force? Why would your brother have guys at all?”
I had the feeling that she was starting to put together some things and they weren’t all kosher. She was probably sensing that normal people living stand up lives as law-abiding citizens weren’t usually shot at, and they definitely didn’t refuse to call the police.
Letting out a sigh, I accepted that I’d have to tell her more. “I told you I knew he wasn’t quite right? Well, Pa knew it, too. It meant they weren’t as close as Pa and I were. That made Shane angry. When Pa passed, those emotions came to a head and a rivalry sprouted up overnight. One that’s been going on ever since.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh my God,” she said, her eyes wide with shock. “You’re part of the mob, aren’t you? The Irish mob? That’s a thing, right?”
I was so surprised that I actually laughed. The mob? But I sobered up quickly, because in all fairness she wasn’t so far from the truth. A lot of the things we did were similar to the mob’s dealings, though I didn’t like the parallel any more than any of my guys would. I shook my head. “No, we’re not the mob.” I hesitated a half a second, then finally told her. “We’re part of rival motorcycle clubs.”
For a second, her expression just went blank, like she wasn’t sure what I was talking about. “Wait, what? You mean like all those romance novels?”
It was my turn to raise an eyebrow at her.
She flushed crimson, then said, “I mean, I’ve heard they’re really popular right now.” She cleared her throat. “But that’s the same idea, right? A motorcycle gang—”
“Club,” I corrected instantly, a habit all of us had formed early on.
“Right, club. Anyway, you guys run your own business and have territory and stuff like that, right?”
Her big blue eyes looked so sweet, so innocent that I wasn’t sure what to say. Technically, yes, she had it right, but at the word romance I realized she probably had a pretty sugar coated view of what it meant to be part of a motorcycle club. And I almost corrected her, then I realized I didn’t want her to think less of me, so I said, “Yeah, like that. I lead the Lucky Skulls. Shane started the Irish Hounds in the hopes of taking over the territory. But he’s willing to do shit that we’re not—selling meth, running prostitution and trafficking, selling guns to criminals. It makes him dangerous. He needs to be stopped.”
She worried at her lower lip, the motion incredibly sexy despite her worried expression. “Okay. Okay.” She took a deep breath, then said, “Fine, no police. For now.”
For now, it was all I could hope for and it wasn’t nearly enough. If she decided she couldn’t trust me anymore, this was all going to blow up in my face. And bad. I worried she’d realize we didn’t just run a business. We ran a chop shop that disassembled and resold expensive, stolen cars. We sold weed and sometimes prescription drugs. Things that could get us in a lot of trouble with the cops. I didn’t think it made me a bad person, but I knew it didn’t exactly make me a good one either.
It’s all shades of gray, I told myself, and hoped I was a little lighter gray than Shane.