Timothy, aside from Seamus, was one of my most trusted men, and was making his way over to me. He had the slightest limp in his left leg, from a stab wound a Chinese smuggler gave him a few years back when they’d tried to take over part of our warehouses for their drug and human trafficking business. The limp was barely noticeable, but I’d known Timothy all my life. He was nearing fifty and had become even more stoic since the attack, though he’d never been a very talkative man. “Lorcan, there you are.”
“Here I am,” I said as I climbed out of my Land Rover. From the tight set of Timothy’s mouth and the deep furrows of his forehead I knew something was up. “Problems?” I asked, following him past our smaller warehouse and several containers, which hopefully held our shipment of some of the best opium money could buy along the old Silk Road. Business was still flourishing, just not from legal avenues.
“One of the dock workers tried to steal from us,” Timothy explained as we entered our main warehouse. A few of my guys were taking stock of the new containers while Seamus glared down at a middle-aged man I didn’t recognize. The harbor area was vast and workers changed all the time. Most of them, even the new ones, knew to stay away from our shipments. Seamus nodded at me. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to deal with him yourself. You didn’t answer your phone.”
“I was busy.”
Seamus let out a quiet sigh, again showing his disapproval.
“I’m here now,” I said. The asshole always found a way to make me feel like a fucking school-boy in need of reprimanding. That was the trouble with friends. Maybe I should give up on the concept.
The dock worker peered up at me like a puppy begging for a treat. If he was looking for empathy, he would be disappointed. Considering his busted lip and swollen eye, Seamus or whoever had caught the asshole in the act, had already given him a very slight taste of what was still to come.
“Where’s Rody?”
“Over there,” Seamus said with a sly grin as he gestured to my favorite iron rod, which had traveled with me for the last ten years and had given many traitors, thieves, and people who annoyed the fuck out of me a last farewell. I brought two fingers to my mouth and whistled sharply, grabbing the attention of Nollaig and Riordan, our newest additions from Ireland. Riordan gave me a crooked smile.
“Bring me Rody.”
He looked around, trying to figure out which lad I meant.
“Not the brightest candle on the cake, eh?” Seamus laughed dryly.
I shook my head. I was in an exceptionally good mood thanks to my meeting with Aislinn, so I only cocked an eyebrow and didn’t punch some wisdom into the kid. Timothy stalked over to the two boys, who looked about ready to bolt. “Did you recruit them from church choir? Why are these two like fucking newborn lambs?”
“They can throw a punch, don’t worry. They’re only seventeen. First time away from home. They’ll grow into it, and they’re in awe of the infamous Lorcan Devaney.”
Timothy hit them both over the back of the head and grabbed my iron rod.
Nollaig snickered. “Rody. Cool name.”
I gave the two boys a look that had him and the other kid scuttling back inside the container.
“Were we like this once?” Seamus asked.
“Far from it,” Timothy muttered as he handed me my Rody.
The worker at my feet stared up at me in horror. “Your turn’s soon enough,” I told him.
“What are you waiting for, Lorcan?”
“We’re expecting visitors at seven. I want them to witness Rody’s talents.”
Timothy glanced between me and Seamus then seemed to decide he didn’t want to be involved and stalked over to where a forklift brought in a smaller container.
“Let me guess, the Killeen girl?”
“And Gulliver. I feel like he needs reminding of who’s boss on this side of the clouds.”
Seamus looked at me for a few heartbeats. “You’re going to do something that’s going to make your father really unhappy.”
“That’s my job, Seamus. But I’m bringing justice to our clan.”
“Don’t tell me you’re—”
“…going to marry a Killeen, in good family tradition, only she won’t be running off.”
“How did you get her to agree? Did you blackmail her? Or did you promise her something in turn?”
“She hasn’t said yes yet but I’m sure she will tonight.”
Seamus shook his head with a chuckle. He nudged his steel-toed boot against the dock worker. “Not a good day to be on Lorcan’s bad side.”
My eyes roamed over to one of the steel chains we used to position crates inside the containers. “Rody might not get his turn today. I feel like drawing the show out a little for my future wife.”
Aislinn
Since Uncle Gulliver didn’t have a car, we took a taxi and arrived at the docks around quarter to seven. A cool breeze carried over from the Hudson as we got out of the car, the scent of ship fuel and water lay in the air. But I missed the familiar scent of the Liffey. Dublin’s harbor wasn’t a place where I felt comfortable, but this right here, with the skyscrapers and the nervous energy of the too-big city made me want to take flight. A jungle of shipping containers cast their shadows upon us. I rubbed my arms. It was colder than expected. I should have packed a jacket, but I’d already fretted far too long over what to wear for the occasion. Which outfit said “no thank you”? What kind of dress would maybe even make Lorcan reconsider his decision to ask me in the first place?
I’d opted for a long flowery skirt, a white tank top and a cardigan that I’d stuffed into the waistband of the skirt. I felt good in the outfit, comfortable, and considering that Lorcan would be doing his best to unsettle me, feeling confident was of utmost importance. I would stand by my decision.
Uncle Gulliver led me toward a warehouse at the very end of the dock. He became tenser the closer we got to the two men standing guard in front of the wide steel door. Both of them carried machine guns and had tattoos of clovers, Gaelic crosses, and Gaelic quotes all over their exposed arms.
They nodded at Gulliver and barely glanced my way before opening the door.
The air was colder inside the warehouse, which seemed impossible. More men walked around inside, carrying wooden crates or stuffing bags with white powder into other crates. I quickly looked away. I didn’t want to know about any of this. I wanted a normal, boring life, and once I found Imogen, I planned to return to exactly that: my old boring life in Dublin, minus Patrick.
Unfortunately, Lorcan seemed to have every intention to prevent that. I still held hope that he was only toying with me, trying to punish me with this stupid prank. Gulliver and I turned the corner of several wooden crates stacked on top of each other.
And there he was. For the first time, he wasn’t wearing a suit.
Lorcan Devaney was a beast of a man, and today he looked it even more. No other words would have done him justice. He was tall, almost two meters, with dark-brown hair and sideburns, and a rough five -o’clock shadow on his cheeks and chin. He had the keen eyes of a hunting dog. I’d once seen a pack of them on the fox hunt in the Irish countryside. They had been out for blood, with only one focus in mind: to find and kill the fox. Lorcan was wearing a white wifebeater, revealing muscled arms and dark chest hair.
In his big hands he held a massive steel chain. It dragged over the ground beside his weathered, brown boots. Every clink raised more goose bumps on my skin. My palms became sweaty.
He didn’t bother looking my way, but I knew he noticed my entrance. Lorcan wasn’t a man who missed anything going on around him. This was a show for me. I had no doubt about it.
He stopped in front of a man who was held by two other men; one of them was Seamus, my driver from last night. The other was a sturdy middle-aged man with a shaved head—gorilla guy from church. They released their captive and he folded his hands. I wasn’t sure if he was praying to God or begging Lorcan Devaney. Whichever it was, it didn’t have the intended effect. My eyes widened in shock when Lorcan swung the steel chain and hit the man with it. The man cried out as the chain made impact with his knee, a high-pitched scream not unlike the fox being torn apart by the pack.
I took a step back, but my uncle gripped my shoulders, keeping me in place. “Watch closely, Aislinn. Maybe now you realize what you’re up against and why you need to say yes to Lorcan Devaney. I’m praying for the lost soul in front of us, like I’ve been doing for you ever since you appeared on my doorstep.”
Bile traveled up my throat as Lorcan smashed the chain down on his victim over and over again. Soon his wifebeater was sprinkled with blood and pieces of flesh, which stuck to the chain and splattered everywhere. Hot tears pooled down my cheeks, and I battled with the worst nausea of my life. I dug my nails into my palms in an attempt to stop myself from vomiting. Was this all because of me? Had he picked a victim so he could give me a show that would terrify me? Even without marrying Lorcan Devaney, there was already blood on my hands.
After what felt like eternity, Lorcan let up from the unmoving man and his gaze settled on us.
I wanted to run, but this monster in front of me wouldn’t allow me to do so. Lorcan wanted me, for whatever ridiculous reason, and this show’s sole purpose was to intimidate me into saying yes.
Lorcan said something to his men before stalking toward us, the steel chain in his hand dragging over the rough stone, leaving a bloody trail behind. The clinking of the metal sent a shiver through me. There wasn’t a spot on my skin that wasn’t already covered in goose bumps. Halfway to us, he dropped the chain unceremoniously but didn’t bother cleaning the signs of his carnage from his body.
I feared he’d claim a kiss, but thankfully he stopped at a distance. He nodded at my uncle and gave me a smile that seemed like a threat. It didn’t hide the predator lurking behind Lorcan’s rough attractiveness.
“I’m glad you could make it,” he drawled. As if this had been a pleasant invitation, as if anything was my choice. “Have you made up your mind about my proposal?”
I swallowed. I didn’t want to make decisions out of fear, but this was about more than my own safety. The Devaneys would have no trouble taking hold of Mum and hurting her. And I wasn’t even sure if Imogen wasn’t in their hands as well. Finn needed Mum, now more than ever with me away in New York, and Imogen possibly gone for good.
Lorcan Devaney was my only ticket to Imogen. Once I found her, I could figure out a way to run away with Mum, Finn, and Imogen, and hide from the Devaneys. There had to be a place where they didn’t have any contacts.
My eyes trailed over the blood splatters all over Lorcan’s wifebeater and arms. There was even blood on his forehead and on his eyelids. He had the Devaney clan tattoo on his right bicep, a five-leaf clover. Every man in this warehouse displayed the same tattoo.
I fought my revulsion. Uncle Gulliver’s gaze was practically X-raying me.
“Aislinn, silence doesn’t suit you,” Lorcan drawled, flashing his white teeth at me. No blood on them, though I wouldn’t have been surprised if Lorcan later feasted on his victim.
“I say yes … to your proposal.” The last word left a bitter taste on my tongue and it felt as if I’d just signed away my life. Marriage hadn’t been part of my plan for the next couple of years, even before Patrick cheated. I’d always known Patrick was too immature for such a bond, and I was never in love enough with him to see myself at his side indefinitely, but this was something I’d only realized after his confession. Lorcan was far from immature, but a marriage to him would challenge me in ways I didn’t even want to consider at this point.
Lorcan’s answering smile was triumphant and possessive, and when his eyes dragged over my body, lingering on my thighs as if he could still see them spread apart like last night, a wave of heat rushed through me.
“That calls for a toast,” Lorcan said, then louder. “We’ve got a reason to celebrate. Aislinn Killeen agreed to become my wife.”
Howls and clapping echoed through the warehouse, sending a new chill through my body. Seamus came over with a bottle of Tealing Irish whiskey, and a stack of shot glasses. He handed one to me then to Lorcan and the men gathering around us. None of them seemed bothered by the fact that we celebrated our engagement not long after Lorcan viciously beat someone to death. This was business as usual for them.
Seamus filled our glasses generously, and even though I wasn’t one for hard liquor, I downed the whiskey in one gulp before Lorcan even raised his glass for a toast. A few men snickered.
“A thirsty broad,” someone called. I forced a tight smile, playing along as much as my churning gut allowed. If I wanted to gather information and not just wait on Lorcan’s gracious tidbits about Imogen, his men liking me would come in handy.
Seamus filled my glass again, and this time I waited for Lorcan to raise his glass. “To my fiery Irish bride, Aislinn Killeen. May our bond bring luck upon our families.”
I couldn’t read his voice, but for a crazy moment I wondered if maybe not all of Lorcan’s reasons to marry me were bad.
Everyone emptied their glasses, and so did I, even if my throat still burned furiously from the first drink. My eyes watered and my body flushed with heat as the alcohol traveled through my system.
Lorcan watched me with a hint of amusement. One by one, Lorcan’s men walked off, giving us privacy. Lorcan came very close, so close I could smell the metallic scent of blood on him. “You should start looking for a dress. I have no intention of waiting. I won’t give you any time to run away.”
“I won’t run,” I said firmly, which wasn’t even a lie. At least, until I knew Imogen was safe.
“How reasonable of you,” he said, his dark eyes holding onto mine with an intensity that made me forget everything around us for a moment. Luckily the scent of blood was so potent it catapulted me back to the present, reminding me of my soon-to-be-husband’s bloody nature.
Up until a few minutes ago, I’d been wary about Lorcan, maybe even a little scared, but after the display I just watched I was positively terrified of being alone with him again. I couldn’t imagine he had any plans to become a decent husband.
On the car ride back to Gulliver’s home—Lorcan had refused to let us take a taxi—, my uncle in his most soothing voice said, “You made the only possible choice, Aislinn.”
“If there’s only one choice, it’s not really a choice.”
