“That wasn’t what I was going to say. Why are you twisting everything around?”
“It’s the truth. And what you’ve told me from the start. I was a stubborn fool not to listen then, but I’m listening now. Tell me who came to you and why.”
“Ken called him Kevin and he works for a man named Mah—”
“I know who old sausage fingers works for,” he grated, concern for her making him gruff. “What did he say to you?”
She gripped her hands together tightly. “He told me to find you and tell you he knows what you did, and if you don’t deliver, there will be consequences. That’s it.”
He would kill both men with his bare hands. “Are you sure?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“Did Tanaka tell you what I did?”
She looked into his eyes, and the worry and vulnerability there almost made him reach for her. Almost. “He said to ask you.”
“Maybe he deserves to live then,” he muttered, rubbing his jaw. “Are you going to ask, Bronte? Don’t you want to know who you married, drunk or not? What kind of man you let take you right here on the floor, with nothing between us but lust and lies?”
“You’re not a liar. I know what kind of man you are.”
“No, darlin’, you don’t.” He swore, slipping his damp t-shirt over his head and searching for the keys. “You think lying about loving a woman was the worst thing I did to Seamus and Owen when they came to find their roots?”
“What do you mean?”
He gestured toward the door, gently taking her elbow when she didn’t move. He needed to get her back to safety before she slapped his face and decided she could get there on her own. “They were the kind of marks I could spot a mile away. Good, clean-cut All American do-gooders. Blood means something to them. Family means something.”
“Don’t try to tell me it doesn’t mean anything to you. You didn’t make the best decisions, but you came here for the right reasons. Everything you did was for your family. And why do you have a key to this place?”
“That’s not important.” He locked up, shrugging one shoulder before he took her arm again. “And I had plenty of first cousins in and around Ireland. None of them cared about our little tribe. Not in all the years we were struggling. But Seamus wouldn’t turn us away. I knew all I needed to do was get us all stateside and their sense of duty would do the rest.”
He let her hear the cynicism instead of the hope. The cocky confidence instead of his fear that he’d been wrong about them. That his only chance to change directions would crash and burn.
“Getting here was the tangle,” he continued, walking her down the street with determined strides. “Surviving. Having enough funds to send Matthew and Kate to school. I needed cash and I had to improvise.”
“Shit.”
“Now she’s catching on.” As if he’d ever touch that blood money. Still, it was what she needed to hear. “It was a big haul. I snatched it and kept right on going. I didn’t stop until I was on Finn’s doorstep. They didn’t turn me away.”
She’d stopped, resisting his pull. “What about your grandfather?”
William forced a smirk. “He knew the plan, but the lunatic wouldn’t leave. And I knew no one would go near him. He’s got his own reputation, that one. But I still left him.” He left out all the people he’d put in place to watch out for the crazy old man, just to be safe.
“Are you suicidal? Because what you did sounds so suicidally stupid, I’m genuinely wondering how you’ve survived this long.”
He lost his temper and some truth slipped out. “The bastard decided on Kate for his next mistress. I’ve seen what he does to the women he gets tired of, Bronte. I was never going to let that happen. I’d spent my life making him richer and covering his ass to protect them and he was trying to destroy that. Destroy her. Was I supposed to slink off in the shadows without sticking him where it hurts?”
“Yes!” she shouted again, causing people walking by to turn in their direction. “Are you kidding me? Yes, that’s exactly what you were supposed to do. You had to know he wouldn’t let that go.”
He wanted to tell her that he’d been trying to find a way to send it back, that he was planning on asking the hacker for help, but that would defeat his purpose. She didn’t need to be on his side. She needed to be safe.
“It seems we’re both guilty of bad judgment, aren’t we? I stole from an Irish bookie with Don Corleone delusions, and you wasted your record breaking dry spell on a common thief. A thug.”
Christ, he was a prick, he thought, feeling her take that blow as if he’d sucker punched himself. “Bronte…”