Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 90211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
“Mom—“
“No, honey, listen to me. I know you married that Liam man, and it makes you feel like you’re a part of family business now, but you aren’t. That isn’t how it works.”
Anger slices into me. I maintain my calm facade though. “How does it work then?”
“You get on with it. They do what they do, and you don’t ask too many questions. That’s how you survive. You know this, sweetie.”
“I haven’t been asking questions for a long, long time, and where has that gotten me? Seriously, Mom, where? Married to a stranger? My fiancé cheated on me and stole from my family. I never asked any questions, and here we are.”
“Don’t be that way, Regan. It won’t go well for you.”
“Mom—“
“Chin up, darling, back straight, soldier on. Nothing fazes you, remember? You’re a Corrigan.”
I grit my teeth, watching her, and realize she’s too far gone. I’ll never pierce through the armor she’s layered overtop herself these long years. I wonder if she was like me when she first married Dad, naive, pissed off, looking for answers, and if he ground her down.
“You’re right. I forgot myself.” I force a smile and turn away. “Where’d Luke go? I should check on him.”
“In his room, darling. There you are. That’s my girl.”
Yeah, I’m her girl, all right. Been her girl all my life.
I charge up the stairs. Luke’s room is down the hall from mine. He’s not here usually—he moved out the second he had the money—but it doesn’t surprise me he’s home now after what happened. I knock and turn the knob when he tells me to come in.
My brother’s lying in bed on top of the blanket, back propped up with pillows. Both his eyes are black, his nose is crooked, and he’s got a nasty bandage wrapped around his arm. He’s in a white tank top and black shorts, scowling at his phone, swiping quickly through something.
“What’re you doing home?” he asks, glancing up. “Liam kicked you out?”
“He’s got some job tonight, but I wanted to check on you while he was gone.”
Luke’s eyes flick to the phone and back to me. “What sort of job?”
“I don’t know, he doesn’t tell me. God, Luke, look at you. I heard what happened.”
He grins but he seems off. “Honestly, I’m fine. Are you sure Liam didn’t tell you what he was up to?”
“No, and it doesn’t matter.” I flop down in a chair by his desk. “He told me what happened. Well, some of it, anyway. I’m really happy you’re okay.”
“Nah, don’t worry about me. Liam got me out. Saved my ass when it all went down. He tried to shove me out the door but I followed him like a moron.” He gestures at his face. “Got this in the process. Seriously, where’s he at tonight? I want to thank him.”
“Swing by tomorrow morning and he’ll probably be around, but no guarantees. He does what he wants.”
“Right, sure, maybe I’ll do that.” He drops his gaze back to his phone, frowning and distracted.
“You’re really okay? I mean, after what happened, you probably want to keep your head down for a while, right?”
“Huh? Head down?” He grimaces as he lowers the phone. “I got a job to do, Regan. Not really something I get to choose.”
“I know, but I mean, with Dad and all—“ I trail off, not sure how the whole Whelan thing works.
Luke’s smile seems sad. He looks a lot like Mom. “Dad’s the reason I am where I am. If they say jump, I ask how high, that sort of shit. But it’s fine, right? I’m a good soldier.”
“I don’t want you to be a soldier at all.”
“Seriously, don’t worry. I got my guardian angel Liam.” He laughs, but there’s an edge to it. “I really can’t believe you don’t even know where your husband is. He didn’t mention anything?”
“Why? Is there something going down right now?”
“No, no, nothing like that.”
“I’m worried about you. This stuff with the Baranovs is going to get worse before it gets better. I want you to stay far away from it.”
“No promises there.”
“Can’t you, I don’t know, get out of the city? For a few weeks? Say you’re on vacation, say anything—“
“Regan.” His voice is firm. He shifts upright with a grunt of pain. “I don’t get to do that. I don’t get to do anything but what I’m told. Please, stop.”
I feel helpless and small. My brother’s in pain, beat up, half-dead from what he said, and here I am begging him to stay out of the coming war.
And there’s nothing else I can do about it.
Unless I’m feeling masochistic…
And desperate.
“Alright, fine, but I’m going to check on you later.”
He glances down at his phone again before abruptly straightening. “Hey, you remember that campsite we went to when we were kids? Dad took the whole family and insisted it would bring us closer together?”