Page 40 of It Will Always Be You
Jonathan:
The next words out of your mouth better be that you’re already en-route
Liam:
Already halfway there
Reading over Liam’s text does little to ease my anxiety. A code red with my daughter? Un-fuckin-acceptable. Heads will roll. What the hell are these three idiots doing? Sitting around gossiping while someone makes moves to attack her? If one hair on her head is harmed…
Pacing the length of the living room does little to alleviate the anxiety clinging to me. Everything is about to change, and the timing couldn’t be worse. Angus is still a thorn in my side with no evidence to back up my suspicions, we’re constantly on the verge of war, and I’m up to my neck in power struggles with wannabe gangs. The idea of bringing Cora into the middle of things now scares the shit out of me, but at the same time, getting to meet her is something I’ve dreamed about for over twenty years. God, this is going to be messy, and she might hate me—fuck, she has every right to—but I’m minutes away from having my daughter within arm’s reach, and nothing can dull the spark that lights inside me.
I promise, I’ll look after her, sweetheart.
By the time my phone chimes with a heads up that they’re on their way up, I’ve managed to get a grip on my emotions long enough to force my face into something welcoming. Spinning to face the lift as it pings open, for a split second, I’m transported back to the past. Blonde,wavy hair, five foot nothing, with enough attitude to land a man on his ass, Cora is the spitting image of her mother. Her eyes, though, they’re the trademark O’Neill blue, a shade or two darker than Helen’s, and the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose are all me. Fuck, how did Helen look at her every day without breaking down? She’s the perfect blend of both of us in the most heart-breaking way.
“Welcome home, Cora.” The words slip out without a second thought, and as confusion darts across her face, I take a few steps closer. As she opens her mouth to let a tirade of sass loose that’s all Helen, I know I must look like an utter fool as I stand there, smiling at her. Sue me—I’ll happily listen to her go off if it means she’s standing in front of me.
When she finally takes a breath, I take the opportunity to dismiss the brothers. The room is pin-drop silent as Liam, Aidan, and Cole file out, a range of emotions from confusion to suspicion flickering across their faces. Soon, everyone will know, but for now, for a few blissful moments, this moment is ours, free of expectations and questions. But the fragile peace doesn’t last long.
“You wouldn’t happen to know an Angus, would you? Because if so, he says hello.” Thank fuck my back is to her as those words land like a missile between us. Fucking Angus—as if costing me Helen wasn’t enough, he’s dipping his hand into messing with my daughter? I bloody well don’t think so.
Five Months Later
Before we can even catch our breath, things go from bad to worse. The news of her existence spreads like wildfire and the guys are far from impressed that I kept them so far out of the loop for so long but soon that’s the least of our worries.
Between break ins, safe houses, and kidnappings… It’s a fucking miracle she’s still here in one piece. And if what she needs is Owen—who has more than proven how much she means to him—then fine. I can live with that.
“What a shit show,” Jack groans from his seat in my home office. Humming in agreement, I pour us both a drink while we wait. After everything that went down with Angus kidnapping Cora, and Logan doing the honours of killing that fucker, I was anticipating his call. What I wasn’t expecting was for him to be looking for a wife. None of what’s been going on in the Clan over the past few decades makes sense, but this almost takes the cake. Why would a newly crowned leader need to align himself with us?
“Tell me about it. It’s been, what? Five months since that first attack on Cora? Christ, I need a break,” I groan, cracking my neck to ease some of the tension. “At least that bastard has been dealt with. Dealing in the skin trade, who does he think he is?”
“And you’re sure the son is nothing like the dad? Because I swear, if you’ve handed my Abbie off to a piece of shit, I won’t just sit by.” The dark promise in Jack’s words should have my guard up, but I’d be saying the same thing if I were in his seat. Before I can reassure him, a knock on the door interrupts us. Seeing Owen, I motion for him to take a seat.
“Any update on getting the girls reunited with their families?” he asks, referring to the unfortunate souls stuck in that house of horrors with Cora.
“Brennan has been working on it night and day. Last he checked, he was down to the last one,” Jack fills him in.
“Good. I can’t believe that bastard would stoop so low.” For once in his life, Owen looks positively furious, his lip curling back as he spits the words out. I don’t blame him. What Angus was doing—stealing and then selling helpless girls—is abhorrent. It goes against everything we stand for, all the values we make sure to instil in our children and soldiers.
Spying the alert on my phone that Logan’s on his way up, I excuse myself to go greet him. Stifling a chuckle at his complete disregard for wearing a suit to this meeting, I lead him back into my office and nod to the empty chair before handing him a whiskey.
“Thanks for agreeing to meet with me so soon. I’m sure you have things to sort out on your end, which is why I thought it important to share what I know about my father’s activities before proposing this...arrangement.” Watching as he struggles to dance his way around the wordmarriagehas me once again questioning just why he’s pitching this idea. Still, none of that matters in comparison to getting answers about his cryptic remark he made before killing his father.
“The girls believed they were going to be auctioned off. What I’d like to know is what you meant when you said he was probably doing what he did to your mum, what he tried to do to Helen.” The thought of Angus having anything to do with Helen has rage simmering in my veins. That bastard doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as her, never mind anything more.
“My father was a pathetic excuse for a man. He got a huge power kick out of hurting women and children. He beat Mum for the entirety of their marriage, but he would rant and rave about how she was just a stand-in. He was mixed up with a lot of scumbags who had more money than morals, and eventually, someone came up with the idea of hosting these auctions—which was the worst idea ever, if you ask me. That led to him attempting to kidnap Helen and later selling Mum off.” As Owen and Logan continue talking about Logan’s mum and reasons for wanting this arrangement, my mind goes a million miles an hour with all the possibilities. For the first time since that dreaded phone call, I cling to the hope she really is dead.
Cutting in, I ask, “What’s in this for you? You can’t want a bride that much.”
“Resources. I have a hunch that could be explosive if true, but so far, I’ve had no luck proving it. I’m going to need the help of one of your Butcher Brothers and Owen for it.”
“Well, come on, man. Spit it out,” Owen mutters, his desperation to get back to Cora’s side evident.
“I have reason to believe the hit-and-run that killed Helen didn’tactuallykill her. The driver was on our take and a close friend of Angus’, who mysteriously disappeared afterwards. From what I understand, when Cora had to identify the body, there was too much burn damage from the explosion, and they had to use dental records, leaving ample opportunity for it not to be her.”
Logan’s theory lands like a blow, stopping me in my tracks as my mind races with worst case scenarios. If what he’s suggesting is true….
I’m so fucking sorry, sweetheart.
