Page 71 of Tainted Tempos

My love is hurting her.

How the fuck did this happen?

Oh, God. The pain is unbearable. My chest twists, and my stomach clenches. My fingers tremble, and my eyes sting. I blink rapidly, feeling like there’s sand stuck in my eyes.

What the hell is wrong with me?

A knock at the door causes me to turn.

Mr. Byrne stands in the doorframe. “Come on, son. It’s time to leave.” His eyes are shaded with pity and understanding that I don’t deserve.

Son.

He called me son. No one’s called me that for years. In fact, I can’t remember the last time Big Jim referred to me as his without his lips curling in disgust or his eyes beading in anger.

I blink and manage to swallow even though my throat is painfully tight.

Mckenna disengages our hands, and mine falls limply at my side.

I miss her touch. Her warmth.Her.

She’s already pulling away from me, she’s already adding the distance she seeks.

I follow Mr. Byrne down the stairs. He gestures for me to enter his study and closes the door behind us.

“She needs time. A break,” I mutter.

“She needs to feel safe,” her father disagrees.

I look up. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to take that bastard down.”

I pull in a deep breath and nod. I know what Mckenna said. What Jameson and Greg and everyone else has said.

Talk to her. Loop her in. Give her time.

But the fear that eats at my stomach is real. And when I look into Mckenna’s father’s eyes, I know he feels it too. Bran is coming for Mckenna, and I won’t sit back and wait for that shit to happen.

“Count me in,” I say. “Whatever you need. I have info on him.”

Mr. Byrne nods. “I’ll come to your place tomorrow morning. We’ll figure this out, put it to bed, and move forward.” He holds out a hand and I shake it firmly.

Nothing in my life makes any goddamn sense. Except this.

I vowed to protect my wife, and I’ll do it at all costs. Even if it means losing her.

TWENTY

MAVERICK

Mr. Byrneand I pore over the file I have on Branson. We’re three hours into our research when a flare flickers in his eyes.

“Here,” he mutters, pointing to a name.

I squint but nothing jumps out at me. “Isabel? Bran’s mother.”

Mr. Byrne nods. “Yep. Can I borrow this, Mav?”

---