“Martin,” Keenan says. The men shake hands, then I offer mine. Martin winces at my firm grip.
Christ.
“Come in, come in,” he says, a sheen of perspiration dotting his forehead. His eyes dart around us and behind us, quickly surveying our army of soldiers. They’re clad in formal wear, but all are armed and ready to strike at the first order from Keenan, and Martin knows it. The truce is up. He either delivers or he’s fucked.
Three large, burly men stand beside Martin and glare at us. By Clan law, they’re not allowed to strike. Martin’s in the wrong. I don’t even bother to look at them.
“Come, boys, come,” he says, gesturing for us to follow him to his office. “Have a drink, will you?”
“No.” He startles at my response, turning to look at me sharply.
“I didn’t come for a drink, Martin,” I warn him. “I came for a fucking bride. What are you playing at here?”
He clears his throat and mops a hand across his brow, when one of his men opens his office door and welcomes us in. I sweep his office quickly, noting the large plate-glass windows behind the L-shaped desk, and the ample supply of whiskey and tumblers on a side table. The stale, acrid smell of cigars lingers in the air.
I wait until he turns to face us.
None of us sit. We stand as one to face our rival.
“Answer me, Martin.”
“Well, you see,” Martin begins, twisting his hands in front of him. “A few nights ago, the girl, well she—” he pauses, as if searching for the right word, then with a sigh, he states the truth. “She left. Escaped, as it were. And we haven’t been able to find her.”
Nolan curses, his hands fisting by his side. I take a step toward Martin myself, but Keenan’s voice makes me stop. He’s the one that will orchestrate what we do next. We need answers.
“A few nights ago?” Keenan asks in a dangerous, cold voice. “And you haven’t sent word to us until now?”
Martin shakes his head. “I—well I—you know, she—I was certain we’d find her by now.”
“Certain,” Keenan repeats.
I take a step forward. “Where is she?”
Martin flinches, but his eyes flash at me like a cornered rodent’s. “If I knew, she’d be here, lad, wouldn’t she? Hmm?”
I want to grab that tie around his neck and twist it until his face reddens and his eyes bulge.
“You know what this means, Martin,” I say in a low voice. Warning.
His lips thin. He winces while he answers, “I do.”
“We’ve our strike force with us,” I tell him. But hell, I don’t want to war. Both his men and ours will die in battle, and I love my men like brothers.
“I could… I’m going to… well, I can offer another tribute,” he says.
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Does he have a fucking breeding ground?
“Just listen, boys,” he pleads.
He has the fucking gall to call us boys as if he’s a smarmy headmaster and he’s called us into his office to pat our heads?
“Yes?” Keenan asks. I turn to face him. Martin knew about my bride’s absence for four fucking days. How are we to trust him?
She left. The girl left. Does she know what she did by leaving? How she’s brought death and destruction to both her family and mine? Does she know what’s at stake if we don’t solidify our truce?
“Yes,” Martin repeats, his eyes widening. “A bit younger, though.”
A knock at his door interrupts us, and before he can answer, the door swings open. My stomach tightens when I recognize the man who walks through, with his puffy face and beady, cruel eyes. The very same one who pulled a knife on my brother, the fucking bastard. He doesn’t look at us, his gaze steady on Martin. I note his reddened nose when he swipes his hand across it. His hand shakes. Fucking coke.
“I found her. I brought her back.”
I tighten, holding myself back with effort. I saw how he touched that woman at the club. I witnessed his cruelty. If he touched one goddamn hair on my future wife’s head, fuck the goddamn truce. I’ll break every finger in his hands.
Martin sighs in relief. I watch as he takes a step forward and his eyes narrow, flashing with a maniacal glee, as if he can’t wait to get his hands on her himself . “Good work, good work, Blaine. Where is she now?”
“She’s in holding. But I’m warning you, if you let her go through with this wedding—”
My body tightens. The fucking audacity of him.
“Enough.” Martin’s eyes are wide with fury, his nostrils flaring. “Not another word of warning from you. I told you why I’ve made this choice and I didn’t ask your opinion.”
Keenan and I share a curious look but say nothing.
Blaine fumes. “Fine. You’ll bring wrath upon our entire clan.” He twitches, his face contorting. He’s high as a fucking kite.