Page 16

I leave my brother and his fiancé, staring at each other, and I give a small laugh as I walk away.

Stassi and Liam have something going on. Whatever it is, it’s theirs to figure out. But from the sound of the possession in his voice? My brother’s falling hard.

For a woman who, under no circumstances, wants to love her husband.

Marco’s in the barn.

I went to the garden first, naturally, but he wasn’t there. Since I didn’t think that Marco had just up and left, I reasoned that he was somewhere. Initially, I had just decided I would simply hear from him later, and walked away.

But I wanted to go to the barn.

Riding, when I was little, was something my mother had made me do.

In her head, proper Irish girls, whether they be raised in the city or the country, needed to be able to ride a horse.

My father and Kieran hadn’t thought I was a capable rider, so I hadn’t done much riding during that time in my life, but I still loved to be around horses.

And the barn, apparently, is where Marco decided to end up as well.

I freeze in the door when I first walk in. He’s petting one of the horses, a tall hunter with a lovely chestnut coat and a blaze on its forehead. Marco’s lips are curled into a smile, and while I can’t hear his words, the soothing cadence of them feels like I’m watching an entirely different Marco.

One that I might have called mine…

Once.

“I didn’t know you liked horses,” I say, choosing to announce my presence.

To both of their credit, neither the horse nor Marco startles. Marco produces a treat from his pocket, and the horse nibbles at it enthusiastically.

Stepping inside the barn, I let the horse sniff my fingers. The velvet of its lips tickles my palms, and when it gives me a friendly little nibble as well, I laugh.

“Elio’s family had horses. I grew up riding them.”

“Elio’s family?” I raise my eyebrows.

Marco nods. “We were close, as kids. Each of us being the heir to our respective families gave a unique perspective on things, and it’s hard to find people who occupy a similar space.”

“Your siblings?”

Shaking his head, Marco puts his hands in his pockets. “They’re part of why it’s a unique space.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighs. “It’s hard to explain. And I think that Liam might understand, somewhat.”

“I’m a slight smarter than my brother, you know,” I say dryly.

“Of that I have no doubt. ”

Marco’s quiet for a moment. I look at the horse, leaning forward to pet its forehead.

“You feel responsible for them,” I say, guessing at the kind of turmoil he’s hinting at.

“I am responsible for them.”

“Even now? They’re grown, with families and children of their own to look after,” I murmur. Part of it is reality, but part of it is my own experience.

I don’t want Liam looking after me forever, after all.

In fact, I don’t want him looking after me in the slightest.

“In this world, I will always be responsible for them,” he says softly.

Something in his voice feels… hard.

“But you don’t want that,” I say, again, reading between the lines of his words. “You don’t want to be responsible for them. Not anymore.”

Marco is silent.

I sigh, dropping my hand from the horse. “If it helps, I’d rather no one be responsible for me.”

“Yeah?” he sounds amused.

I nod, emphatically. “It’s a kind of torture, I think.”

“How so?”

“Because, it’s infantilizing. How am I supposed to be my own person, to exist as myself, if I’m constantly being told that someone else is responsible for me? Liam isn’t in charge of my decisions. He’s alright. Not a bad one, I suppose. But Kieran…” my voice trails of f.

Kieran was anything but alright.

“Being at the whims of a sociopath was a specific kind of misery, Marco. I don’t want people to be responsible for me. I am responsible for myself, and that’s the way it’s going to be,” I say.

Marco snorts. “Well, good luck with that.”

“What does that mean?”

He leans against one of the wooden stalls. “I mean good luck with that. Since you needed me to pretend to date you, so that we could get back and spy on your brother.”

“I—” I open my mouth to protest, but it snaps shut.

Marco’s face tightens. “That’s what I thought.”

“Marco—”

The air around us, so calm and peaceful, suddenly shatters.

Gunshots.

The noise is unmistakable, and when you’ve grown up the way I have, you’ll never mistake anything for a gunshot. The noise is burned into my very cells.

I hit the ground, Marco next to me.

My first thought is for Stassi and Liam. I want to get back to them, to make sure they’re okay.

But when the gunshots continue to rattle around us, I know that’s not an option. Liam and Stassi will have to get out of this on their own.

Because with this many agents firing around us, we need to get out of here with our own lives before we lose them .

The horse, who apparently has been trained enough to make him into a statue, munches his hay, ears pricked forward.

I look at Marco. His face is scrunched in calculation. “Do we…” I start.

The gunshots continue. They don’t sound like they’re getting closer, but they’re joined by machine guns, which I assume come from my brother’s security. Heart in my chest, I look over at Marco, my eyes wild.

He looks at me.

Up at the horse.

Then back at me.

“You can ride?” he says.

I nod.

“Move. Fast.”

We don’t use tack.

There’s a gray mare in the stall next to the chestnut that I swing up onto.

She’s unhappy about it for a second, and her ears flick back, but she appears to be just as well trained as the chestnut.

Neither one is particularly bothered by the sound of gunshots, which I count as a blessing, and wonder what on earth my brother might have trained them for.

Marco opens the door to the barn, the one that faces away from the house, and on the horses’ backs, we gallop out down the path.

Without reins or a saddle, I’m clutching my mare’s mane, my heart beating a tattoo in my chest as we race away. There’s shouting, which I assume means that whoever it is that’s shooting at the manor has noticed that Marco and I are escaping.

Marco swerves, looking back at me. “Follow me,” he says, his voice a low rumble that barely meets my ears.

“Where are we going?”

Marco gives me a look. “Do you trust me, Roisin?”

It’s a statement that makes my eyes snap to his.

The horses’ hooves thunder down the trail. The wind whips through my hair.

I look at Marco, and I utter one word.

“Yes.”