Page 139 of Forged in Rain

“The plan is for us to be together,” he says, and I nod, searching his gaze, but the sickly feeling in the pit of my stomach warns that we may not have a choice in this.

“Hey,” Jig says, and we turn to him. “Where’s Bastion?”

Cyn tenses, pulling me closer, and I lay my head on his chest, soaking in the feeling of his hand on my back. After this, maybe we can live our lives. I’d like that. Me and Cyn. The guys.

“He decided to stay away,” Cyn says.

Jig cocks his head to the side and I glance between them, huffing when no one offers an explanation.

“Later,” Cyn says.

“Ah, here we are,” Paddy McCafferty interjects, shuffling into the room.

My knees dip and I suck back the terror making my spine stiff as the old man meets my gaze.

Forcing my lips into a smile, I clutch at Cyn’s shirt as McCafferty’s piercing eyes survey me beneath his bushy brows.

Arriving with Jig didn’t matter. Cyn is my future, and this man and any other should know it now.

“Sit,” he says, and I step up to the couch as he sits on his throne.

Like, literally, he’s sitting on a fancy chair before his audience. Who does that? Paddy McCafferty does.

The pretense is disgusting, but I’m not surprised.

“Now then,” Paddy says in his gravelly voice. “Hate informed me of your situation.”

Nodding, I lick my dry lips.

“This doesn’t solve my problem. John is still out there with my money and in bed with Castinetti,” he says, his lip curling in disgust.

He doesn’t know about the money? Fuck. Should I say something? I have no choice, but I hope this doesn’t bring Jagger back to my fucking door.

“Um, I’m sorry,” I say, clearing my throat. “But Iris gave the money to Jagger.”

He cocks his head to the side before saying quietly, “You’re telling me that Jagger has had the money this whole time?”

“Well, no. Just for a couple of weeks,” I stutter, caught in his potent stare. For an old dude, he definitely knows how to command attention.

“Well, is that true?” McCafferty says, and I swing around to the door, flinching when Jagger swaggers inside with a wide smile.

“Yes sir, she gave it to me.”

“Good. I assume you have the info I need,” McCafferty says, and Jagger nods, turning his attention to the old man. Thank fuck.

“John has been courting Castinetti for a year. He planned to jump ship, but he disappeared before he could carry out his final plans,” Jagger says.

McCafferty turns to me, “And that was you?”

Lowering my gaze, I say quietly, my pulse speeding in my neck. “We tried, but it didn’t work.”

“Now, you need me to clean up your mess?”

Whipping my head up, I frown. “This is your mess, too.”

He chuckles, and I quiver, smoothing my hands down my dress for the forty fucking millionth time.

“Your strength pleases me.” Turning to Jagger, he says, “Bring them in.”

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