Page 70 of Hostile Bond
He’d bought a couple of items for Sinéad too, after asking the shop assistant in the nearest clothes store for help. The outfit isn’t exactly pleasing or her style, but there’s fuck all else for her to wear walking out of here.
The other two guys had incinerated our blood-stained clothes, including my favorite jacket, and cleaned up our boots in the shower room.
While Sinéad was still out cold after being treated, a cute nurse had hooked me up to an IV drip of vitamins and minerals to boost my recovery. As soon as it hit my bloodstream, I marginally felt like myself again, but when I’d touched my wife––Jesus fuck––she’d injected me with a lifesaving elixir.
My heart pounded.
My skin caught fire.
My dick demanded her attention.
She’s all I need to feel alive. I already discharged myself as a patient ahead of my uncle's arrival. I’m keeping my injury on a need to know basis––as in no one else needs to fucking know my business.
Uncle Conal wants to personally escort us to Hennessy House for a sit down conversation with my grandfather––to hear exactly how his son ended up burning inside my wife’s country pub.
In situations like this, Uncle Conal doesn't do telephone chit chats. He assembles the facts face to face, so any issues could be dealt with immediately. All he knows is that his brother turned to ash after he traveled north to babysit Sinéad’s mother. I can only tell him what I know, which is nothing, and that's never going to change.
“We good, Tommy?” I ask my brother, who’s on the other end of the phone, apparently standing on my terrace overlooking the white sandy bay. “You’ve got my back?”
“Of course I do, Dré.” Tomás sighs, having just heard what really happened.
When I’d dipped into the public bathroom along the corridor from her room to dress, I checked the stalls were unoccupied and rang him. He needed to know the truth about ‘Project H’ and why my wife had absconded in the middle of the night. I can’t lie to him, and never will, not when he’s the head of our family and my big brother. I love the guy.
“I still can’t believe Papá recruited Sean and kept me out of the loop. Motherfucker,” he snarls. “What else was the notorious Elias Souza up to behind our backs?”
“I guess we’ll find out, eventually.”
“Stick to the plan and get the fuck out of Ireland as soon as you can, Dré.”
“This is between us, right? You won’t tell Mama?”
My stomach roils at the thought of our mother’s grief. It’s the only reason I’m slightly remorseful. For her heartache and no other reason.
However, her brother's fate was sealed a long time ago. And as it turned out, neither of us had unleashed the fatal bullet, but we more or less had paved the way for it. I always knew my wife had a fierce Irish fire burning in her belly and that brutal attack proved it.
An unsatisfied boner nudges my zipper just thinking about her fiery temper. We are equally matched, my wife and me.
“Trust me, Dré, the last thing we need is a family feud. Just make sure Sinéad doesn’t fuck it up. He murdered her mother. I can’t imagine she’d easily sell a hero story.”
“She’ll be fine.” I reassure him. “I have one hundred percent faith in her.”
“And Acer?”
“I’m waiting on a call from Letterman once Gio has eliminated him as planned. Then Letterman flies to Italy to join Matheus. Sinéad and I will fly over once this is settled.”
“Good.” He pauses. “Carina and I need to leave the island. I have business in Bogotá. Dré, what about the girl?”
Christ.
India.
I drag a hand down my face and groan. “How is she?”
“Carina is with her. They’ve gone for a walk on the beach to talk. She mentioned something about going back to her old apartment and finishing school.”
“She’s not going back there,” I say lightning quick, fisting a stall door. “India is one of us. Fuck… I can’t leave her on the island alone.”
“Well, cabron, you’re in Ireland tending to your own shit.” Tomás points out. “And once the mission in New York is over, you gave Letterman orders to fly to Sicily ahead of your arrival… so, that leaves Gio.”
