Page 16 of Blindsided
They all look at me like I’ve grown a second head.
“What?” I ask. “It’s a legitimate question.”
“He was the head of the MacGallan Clan,” Declan says slowly, as if explaining to a child.
“Import/export business, primarily. Same as Connor is now.”
“Right,” I say, nodding. “And those crates I found in the warehouse basement? The ones with the falsebottoms? The ones where the cops found all those unregistered handguns last year?”
Rory’s face drains of color. He stares at his beer, knuckles whitening around the glass.
“Kane,” Declan warns, leaning in so close I can smell the mint on his breath, “you signed the same papers we all did. So, what are you implying?”
“I’m not implying anything,” I interrupt. “I just want someone to admit what our family business actually is, because I’m starting to think none of us wants to say it out loud.”
The waitress returns with our drinks, and I gratefully accept my whiskey, taking a long sip before continuing. “Uncle Tomas was meeting with a Russian at the docks. They were arguing about something that had been taken. Something valuable enough that people were looking for him years before he supposedly died.”
Kat’s eyes widened. “You never mentioned he was Russian.”
“Didn’t seem relevant until now,” I mutter, avoiding Declan’s glare.
“What else haven’t you told us?” Declan demands.
I swirl my whiskey, watching the amber liquid catch the light. “The Russian said something about ‘the old country.’ Said Tomas couldn’t hide there because they’d be watching.”
“Ireland,” Kat says quietly. “They meant Ireland.”
I nod, relieved someone else is connecting the dots. “Which begs the question—what the hell did Uncle Tomas take that was worth faking his own death over?”
Our food arrives, but no one seems particularly hungry anymore. I pick at my fish and chips, waiting for someone else to state the obvious.
“So, we’re not just looking for Dad,” Kat finally says. “We’re looking for whatever he stole.”
“And whoever he stole it from,” Rory adds grimly.
Declan pushes his plate away. “We need to get to Clare. To the castle.”
“What about Connor?” Wren asks. “Should we let him know what’s happening?”
Declan shakes his head. “Not yet. Not until we know more. He’s got enough on his plate with taking over the family business.”
“And his honeymoon,” Kat adds with a wry smile.
I drain my whiskey, enjoying the burn as it slides down my throat. “So, what’s the plan? We drive to Clare tonight?”
“First thing tomorrow,” Declan decides. “It’s a three-hour drive, and we’re all exhausted. We’ll get some sleep and head out early.”
No one argues. We finish our meal in relative silence, each lost in our own thoughts. As we walk back to the hotel, I find myself beside Wren, a fewsteps behind the others.
“You knew more than you let on,” she says quietly. “About Tomas.”
I shrug, not meeting her eyes. “I know lots of things people think I don’t. Being the family drunk has its advantages. No one watches what they say around me.”
“Is that why you drink? To get people to underestimate you?”
Her question catches me off guard. “I drink because I like it,” I say defensively. Then, after a pause: “And because sometimes it’s easier than dealing with... everything else.”
She studies me with those too-perceptive eyes. “What else do you know that you’re not telling us, Kane?”
