Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
It sounded terribly romantic.
Except there was obviously more to the story. Sloan may have been wrong, but if Sorcha had been living in wedded bliss this entire time, without connection to any illicit workings, she wouldn’t cart around a shotgun. She’s a lot like Callie, though at least Callie doesn’t play the word games.
Sloan sipped her wine, fought to keep her grimace off her face, and set the glass on the table. “You must have been very successful in whatever it was you chose to do if you’re able to travel so much.” She’d seen the photos of a variety of exotic locales scattered around the house. Sloan hadn’t thought much of them at the time, but it was obvious this woman didn’t stay in one place for very long. She had restless energy akin to Jude’s, though he hid it better.
Sorcha laughed. “Oh, darling, that marriage didn’t last. My sweet Rodger was killed in a factory accident not long after we moved to New York. I was wild with grief.” She said it matter-of-factly, as if reciting from a book she’d read a long time ago. “Crazed, really. I almost went back and begged my father for mercy but, well, I don’t beg. Pride, it’s a horrible sin. That doesn’t seem to be your issue, though.” She turned a penetrating look on Sloan. “Then again, I may be wrong. Yours isn’t the flashy kind of pride like mine, one that a person waves around whenever it suits them. It’s more of a quiet thing, a martyrdom.” She tsked. “Martyrs are boring, my dear.”
“We weren’t talking about me.”
“Weren’t we?” She smiled at the waiter who brought the food neither of them had ordered. Sloan frowned at her plate, but Sorcha didn’t seem the least bit disconcerted. “Neill, darling, you look as dashing as always. How are the wife and kids?”
“Shelly is pregnant again, a boy this time.” He smiled. “The girls are doing well. They’re excited for a little brother.”
“Good for you, though, goodness, Neill, give your poor wife a break. Four children.” She shook her head, though her brown eyes twinkled. “You’ll have to give her a spa day before that baby comes, because God knows she won’t be resting anytime soon. My treat, I insist.”
The waiter looked like he might argue, but finally nodded. “She’ll appreciate that, Ms. O’Connor. Thank you.”
“Us women have to look out for each other. Don’t you agree, Sloan?”
Sloan made a noncommittal noise, but that didn’t slow Sorcha down in the least. She chatted with Neill and then smiled as he walked away. “That right there is a good man.” She arched her eyebrows. “And he most definitely isn’t sniffing around for nefarious purposes.”
So they were back to that again. She didn’t feel like defending Jude, partially because she wasn’t sure what he actually did for a living. She couldn’t argue with Sorcha’s disbelief, especially since that had been her first reaction as well. Instead, she asked, “How did he know your order?”
Sorcha smiled like a cat who’d gotten into the cream. “Neill has been here a long time, and he’s a smart boy. He pays attention.”
“And mine?”
She shrugged. “There’s a standing order for any guest I bring with me.”
Of all the…Sloan frowned. “Do you have something against ordering like a normal person?”
“Life is too short, darling. No reason to waste it.” She speared a piece of her salmon. “Now, my niece has filled me in on the bare bones, but I’m going to have to insist you explain your circumstances to me in detail. I am sticking my neck out for you, after all.”
Sloan wanted to brush her off, but the older woman was right. So she gritted her teeth, smiled, and began at the beginning. When Teague met Callie.
Chapter Thirteen
Jude couldn’t settle down until he saw the headlights of Sorcha O’Connor’s car pull into the driveway, and even then the tension riding him didn’t relax until Sloan climbed out of the passenger seat. The whole situation was fucked. He should be planning his next step—how to remove the old woman—but all he could think about was the Russian offering money in exchange for Colm’s death.
And the very real possibility that Sloan could be pregnant with his child.
She glanced his way as she walked up to the front door, but she didn’t show any indication that she saw him lurking in the shadows—or that she wanted to talk to him. Jude silently cursed. His focus was shot, his mission was in shambles, and he didn’t know what the fuck his next step was supposed to be.
Even now, he wanted her, the desire like a sickness inside him that he couldn’t exorcise—that he wasn’t sure he even wanted to.
She’d taken the pill. He’d watched her, disappointment and something almost like fear warring within him. Jude would make a shit father. He wasn’t even sure he knew how to be a father. It wasn’t like his mother, God rest her soul, had been a sterling example of parenthood. She’d done the best she could, and he loved her for that, but the thought of putting any child of his through what he went through growing up…