His laugh fills the small interior of the room. “She fucking accepts,” he drawls.
I’m not only elated that he’s taking me with him, but that I get to see the mansion up close. It’s like a celebrity sighting or something. I’m told they have gold-painted doorknobs, diamonds in the chandeliers, those pretty handmade Persian rugs, and security so high-tech it’s like something you’d see in a movie.
He shakes his head. “So fucking cute.” He sighs and pulls me in for a hug. “Missed you, McKenna.”
* * *
Chapter 3
Tully
I hate that I let her get away. I hate that she got under my skin and I let a gorgeous, brilliant woman like McKenna motherfucking get away.
One thing I can say, though. I do learn from my mistakes. Eventually.
I blindfold her as we leave the bunker, and this time it isn’t for play but because no one’s allowed to see its location. She dutifully takes my hand and I swing her up into my arms to carry her to the car. It isn’t until we’re well into Ballyhock centre that I let her take her blindfold off.
“Wow. So we weren’t far from the city centre, then,” she says, her eyes keen as she takes in the details around us.
“McKenna.” My voice is laced with warning. She can’t be allowed to suss out our location. As it is, Keenan would have my head if he knew I took her there tonight.
“It’s like it’s underground or something,” she says, still trying to piece things together.
“Drop it, woman.”
She sighs. “Alright then. I’ll drop it.” She pulls an imaginary zipper across her lips. “I shall zip the lip.”
I can’t help but smile. She’s feisty as fuck but adorably nerdy.
“So what exactly will you do at the meeting?” she asks, resting her hand on my knee. “Like… mafia things?”
I blow out a breath. “McKenna.”
“Is this the way it is with all the women of the clan?”
“It is.”
“So Aileen isn’t allowed to even know what Cormac does?”
“Of course not.”
She frowns. “Well, that’s disturbing.”
I shake my head. “It’s for their own good.”
“Sounds like something a mum would say while she made her kids eat their greens or something.”
I only grunt in reply.
My focus is on the road ahead, and something isn’t right. McKenna starts chattering on about Maeve’s famous garden, when I hold up my hand to stop her.
“What?” she whispers.
“Shh.”
No one would know who we are, since I’m still driving the cab. To my left I see someone driving a motorcycle who looks vaguely familiar. Dirty blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, he wears a leather cut and a heavy, thick beard. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary except there’s another motorcycle six cars up who signals to him and another to the far right. And they’re heading toward the mansion.
I casually flick my directional and follow them, trying to stay as far back as I can so I don’t draw suspicion.
“It’s the bikers?” she whispers.
“Aye.”
And then I remember. Cormac said there was trouble with the Scots tonight. Could this be it? The Scots reside in the mountains of Scotland, the most sparsely populated area in all of Europe. Their anonymity is vital to them, so they stay hidden and guarded. The fact that there’s a band of them here now means trouble.
McKenna doesn’t say a word as I slowly tag them, making sure I keep a few cars between us as we drive. I reach for my phone, and it lights up.
“Christ.”
“What?”
“Dead zone in the bunker, looks like. Missed seven calls and six texts.” Jesus. Keenan’ll have my fucking head. I toss her the phone. “Do me a favor. Read them for me.”
Her cheeks flush pink, as her nerves rise. She nods, gulps, then taps the screen.
“Keenan,” she says. She cringes. “Um, a few times. Says ‘I need you here sooner than I said.’”
“Fuck.”
“Cormac. ‘Where are you? Are you alright? Where’s the girl?’”
She frowns. “Am I ‘the girl?’”
“Of course. Go on.”
She raises her brows and shakes her head, then continues.
“Lachlan. ‘Shite about to go down, need you back at base.’”
Motherfucker. Jesus, I need my arse kicked for this, and I’m sure Keenan will agree.
“Then there’s one from a guy called…” she snickers. “Douchebag?”
I roll my eyes. “Boner.”
“Ah, right. Says ‘Where the fuck are you, no one can find you, tracking’s putting you somewhere in the centre.’”
“Tracking’s blocked in the bunker, on purpose.” We have it set up that way so if anyone under attack has a tracking advice, they disappear.
I groan. “Dial Keenan.”
She obeys, but the call goes straight to voicemail.
“Call all of them. Every one of them.”
She does. My pulse races as no one picks up.
I look over to her when I hear a gasp. “My God.” She covers her mouth and points ahead. “Look, Tully.”
I look to where she points, cold creeping over me, when I see billows of smoke in the air, in the direction of the mansion.