Altered the balance.
Would she still want to marry me?
She might think, with him gone, that the threat was gone, but if anything, Abramovicz could still swoop in and snatch her away...
My hands curled into fists at the thought.
She was a burden. A guilt trip. A promise owed, a favor outstanding. None of which sat well with me. But this afternoon, when I’d seen her fucking palms, something had tripped inside me.
Those hands of hers were ravaged.
They weren’t the lily-soft digits of a woman who’d never done a day’s work in her life. They weren’t soft and silky. They were callused and rough with scars. Self-inflicted ones.
The thought of her doing that to herself filled me with a rage that was unnecessary considering how little she meant to me—she was, for all intents and purposes, a stranger.
She wouldn’t be for long, but that was exactly what she was right now.
She shouldn’t inspire anything other than apathy in me, but that was the last thing I was feeling.
Getting to my feet, I said, “Don’t say a word outside of the crew.”
Baggy frowned. “Why not? This is good news.”
“Because I’m not saying shit to anyone about anything until she’s my wife.”
Concern had him sighing. “Because you think your da will make a stand and not let you marry her?”
“I don’t think, I know,” I said grimly, before I twisted my wrist until the bone cracked.
The joint was weakened from how many times Da had snapped it over the years—until I’d fought back. The satisfaction of breaking his nose was tied with the fact he’d recognized I wasn’t going to take his beatings anymore. One year, my wrist had been broken so often, I’d worn a cast like it was a fucking fashion accessory.
My father was capable of many things, and stopping me from marrying the woman of my choice was small fry for him.
Bagpipes’ frown darkened. “If you knew what a pain in the ass wives are, you wouldn’t be so militant. I’m only trying to protect future Brennan here.”
“From Da or her?”
“Both of them. He’ll just beat the shit out of you, or,” he amended, “have one of his men hold you down so you can’t move.”
We shared a glance, both of us knowing my father was capable of that—that was how he’d gotten Eoghan down the aisle.
“I doubt it. He’s left me alone since the broken nose incident.”
“True.”
“What do you think Camille will do?” I prompted with a laugh. “Beat me with a rolling pin?” I mocked, both of us grinning because that was a famous story in our family.
Ma had beaten the shit out of Da with a rolling pin in the early days of their marriage, and had earned his love and a lifetime’s devotion in the process.
“You think all wives are like your ma. Trust me, they ain’t. They won’t slap you around the face before they suck you off.”
My nose crinkled. “You talking about my ma and cock-sucking in the same breath?”
He arched a brow. “She made five sons. I know Aidan Sr. likes to think he’s holier than thou, but I’m not sure his bride is capable of an immaculate conception.”
“Maybe the first time, just not the fifth,” I joked, but I folded my arms against my chest as I queried, “What makes you think I’m going to hold Ma up as the perfect wife?”
That had him rolling his eyes. “Because we all do. Trust me, we should never have left home. At least our mothers made our beds for us without nagging our asses off about taking out the trash.”