Page 33 of Stolen Rival (The Stolen #1)

PATRICK

There’s a certain satisfaction in acting in a way my wife does not expect.

I’m not a man who embodies empathy. In my line of work, empathy is the fastest route to getting yourself killed.

Weakness is opportunity to those who seek to steal my crown.

I’m under no illusions that rival mobs will soon amass, organizing themselves to attempt to slide into the spot left by the O’Sullivans and the McCarthys.

My takeover of Dylan’s turf and the tripling of my power base will only galvanize my enemies.

But with her… there’s a hardened core inside me that’s softening around the edges.

Holding her trembling body in my arms on the flight back from the U.S.

while she sobbed her heart out shifted something in my psyche.

I’m not above thinking it started before our trip.

The way she sat at my dining table, stoic and unmoving, while I slit a man’s throat.

The blinding love she has for her brother.

How she won over my cousin in a single evening, prompting his not-so-subtle jab in the gut about there being more to life than work .

“Why are you doing this?” she asks, confirming my suspicions.

“Doing what?” Stretching out her confusion is becoming a game I rather enjoy.

“This.” Her arms wave in the air. “Being nice. Taking me to my home so I can grab some familiar things and now visiting Cathal.” She gestures wildly once more, and I’m glad of the wide expanse between us in the car otherwise I’d risk getting smacked in the face. “It’s not normal.”

“For whom?”

“ You ,” she exclaims. “This isn’t you.”

“Maybe I’m changing.”

The adorable snort, soaked in disbelief, makes my lips twitch. “You can paint a leopard neon pink, but beneath the veneer, it’s still a leopard.”

I smooth a hand over my tie. Who knew banter could be so… enjoyable? “Pink isn’t my color.”

“No, it’s black. Clothes, attitude, heart.”

Reaching over to her side of the car, I brush the back of my hand over her cheek. “Do you truly think that, mo mhuirnín ? Or are you speaking from the past rather than the present? Aren’t we all capable of change if we want it badly enough?”

She chews on my words for a few seconds, her wheels undoubtedly spinning.

After mulling them over, she turns her head in my direction.

“You are different, but I’m not sure whether it’s a permanent change or a momentary blip.

You proved in New York that your malevolent side is never far away, even after… after what we did.”

A fresh deluge of guilt settles on my chest. As if I don’t carry enough already. “I was caught off guard.” Out of control, more like, but I don’t intend to share that nugget with her.

“And that gives you the right to make me feel small and worthless at a vulnerable time in my life?”

Regret, meet remorse.

“I shouldn’t have done that. I already told you I was sorry on the plane. I’m not in the habit of repeatedly apologizing. Once should be enough.”

Her jaw drops, and there’s a slight shake of her head. “I am aware you apologized, and it was appreciated, but I didn’t get to tell you how I felt. And at the end of the day, apology without action or change is just a word.”

The urge to rub the pang rapidly spreading across my chest is almost impossible to ignore. Somehow, I manage to keep my hands resting in my lap. “I promise I will never make you feel like that again. Next time will be different.”

“Lucky me,” she mutters, glancing out of the window, a silent message that she considers our conversation over. Most of the time, I ensure I get the last word, but I owe her this small victory, so I let it slide, just as I did in New York.

We travel the rest of the way without speaking.

Once the car has stopped, she gets out and is halfway to the entrance before I catch up with her.

I move to take her hand, then slide my arm across her shoulders instead, tugging her close to my side.

I take heart that she doesn’t shove me away. If anything, she nestles closer.

One of the bodyguards I stationed with Cathal as a way to coerce Sorcha into behaving straightens when we enter her brother’s room.

Sorcha’s entire body stiffens. I run my hand up and down her arm.

I think I know her well enough by now to read where her mind has gone.

She sees him as a constant threat to her brother’s safety, and if I were her, I’d think the same, too.

If we are to stand a chance of beginning the journey of moving away from how we began and trying to discover who we might be, I should offer a concession.

“You’re dismissed,” I say to the bodyguard. “This assignment is over. You’ll receive new instructions shortly.”

The way her back curves and her shoulders dip tell me I read the situation correctly. She slips out of my hold and moves over to the window where her brother is sitting in his wheelchair, and I barely catch the whispered, “Thank you.”

“You might want to think about a protection detail for him, especially now we’re married.”

Her eyes flare. “You think he’s in danger?”

“No. But having a guard stationed outside his door isn’t a bad idea. If I found out about him, so can my enemies.” I shrug. “It’s your call.”

“You’re… leaving the decision to me?”

“He’s your brother.”

“I’ll think about it.” She rubs her lips together. “Thank you for involving me in the decision. It means a lot.”

I grunt, my gaze returning to Cathal. Do the staff here ever do anything with this poor kid, or is his life sitting in that wheelchair and staring out of the window? I don’t know a thing about his condition or what he’s capable of, but surely some stimulation is better than this lonely existence?

Sorcha pulls up a chair and instantly strikes up a one-way conversation.

She tells him about our trip to New York and how wonderful everyone was to her.

She talks about the house and her da’s car collection.

I can’t help but notice everything is upbeat and cheery.

She doesn’t tell him about her breakdown on the plane, or how unnecessarily cruel I was to her, or how I’m the man responsible for wiping out the rest of his family.

My phone vibrates, and I reach into my pocket. Liam.

“I have to take this. ”

She doesn’t even acknowledge I’ve spoken, too busy regaling her brother with what it was like to travel on a private jet. I’m smiling as I step outside to take the call. “Yeah?”

“Where are you? The line is awful.”

I move away from Cathal’s room and step outside the facility. “Is that better?”

“Much.”

“To answer your question, I’m with Sorcha. We’re visiting her brother.”

He pauses for a beat. “Is the glacier melting?”

“I don’t know. You’d have to ask her.”

“I mean you,” he says.

“We can’t embody a state of war forever. We’re tied to one another for life. We might as well make the most of it. Besides, since neither you nor Darragh have stepped up, it’s down to me to breed the next generation.”

“You’re the eldest. It should be you who takes the first bullet. I’m enjoying the single life far too much to even think about settling down.”

“You’re all heart. Was there something you wanted?”

“Just checking in. I arrived home, and you weren’t here. I thought she may have killed you and was burying your body.”

“If you must know, we’ve called a truce. Things should go a lot more smoothly from here, which is good timing because we’ve a fuck ton of work to do. And I still need to decide what to do with Andrew.”

“I don’t trust that one.”

“Nor do I, but until he specifically steps out of line, there isn’t a lot I can do. You know as well as I do that the merging of two territories is difficult, and the last thing I need is for Dylan’s underboss to meet his maker before Dylan is cold in the ground.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him. You’ve got enough on your plate.”

“That would help. Thanks.”

“I’ve got a meeting this evening. I’ll have him tag along. As long as he’s breathing, we might as well make him earn his keep.”

“Good plan. I probably won’t be back before you leave. I might take Sorcha for a bite to eat.”

“Jesus fucking Christ Almighty. The glacier isn’t just melting. It’s vanished.”

“Fuck you.” I hang up, but for some ungodly reason, I’m grinning from ear to ear.

I return to Cathal’s room, but it’s empty.

I bet she’s taken him to the lake again.

It wouldn’t surprise me if the only time that poor bastard got to breathe fresh air was during Sorcha’s visits, although I’m not basing that opinion on anything factual.

But I make a mental note to ask Sorcha just what stimulation and rehabilitation her brother receives at this facility, if any.

There must be other options that will give him a better quality of life.

Sure enough, they’re out by the lake. I toss a couple of euros into the bird-feed machine and make my way outside.

The grass beneath my feet is spongy and filled with moss and weeds and dandelions, which is probably why Sorcha doesn’t hear me approach.

I get within ten feet of her when her voice floats toward me on a mild spring breeze.

“Don’t you worry, Cathal. I’m working on a plan to get us both out of here as soon as possible. Then we’ll be together forever. You and me against the world.”

I freeze, ice slithering through my veins. Her obedience play is all an act. She actually still thinks there’s a way to escape. If I wasn’t so bloody angry, I might think her naivety was endearing .

Except… am I angry, or is it disappointment? I’m not the kind of man who analyzes his feelings, but what I do know is that the void that had begun to fill is suddenly a gaping chasm of nothingness.

I back away and return to the facility, tossing the duck food into the nearest waste bin.

Sorcha can plan and scheme and plot a way to escape, but I’ll be there at every turn to stop her.