Page 106 of Tempting Fate

My fiancé looks up at me as I stand over him with my hands on my hips. He raises his eyebrows when he asks, “Tell me why that’s the first place your head went, sweet thing?”

Blinking fast, I exhale loudly. My eyes burn as the truth of what I just said sinks in. My suspicions that he was being devious felt like an over-reaction, yet deep down I think I instinctively knew what I was seeing.

Still, I can’t bring myself to admit it.

“I-I don’t know.”

Zeke pushes back to his feet. He scoops the broken pieces of my mug from the floor and tosses them on the workbench. When he returns his attention to me, my mouth runs dry.

“Don’t lie,” he commands in a clipped tone. “You know why you said it.”

“I don’t.”

Zeke advances into my space with even steps, coming close enough for me to feel his breath on my face before my brain urges my feet into action. As I back away from him, certain that if he touches me, I’ll break down and confess my thoughts, he continues to follow. I retreat. Determined to avoid giving him what he wants. Because saying it out loud feels like the final death knell of my relationship with my sole living parent.

“Come on, Lily. Tell the truth. You say you don’t want lies... then woman the fuck up and tell me why you immediately jumped to Brutus being a traitor instead of, say, a burnt-out president with some fucked-up ideas about loyalty.”

“I don’t know. I just said it.” Another step. Two more. My man keeps pace with me, although he’s careful not to crowd me too much as I protest in a reedy voice, “My dad would never turn on the Shamrocks. The MC is his life.”

“Anyone with eyes can see he’s pushin’ Charlie away, and he’s pretty damn close to turnin’ on his own kids. You can’t possibly think his reaction at the hospital was normal, metukà shelì?” Zeke questions me softly. “He didn’t even blink when he heard that Fret has lost the use of his hands… so, tell me, why would the MC be the exception to his indifference?”

“There’s no way. It’s not possible.” I shake my head when my mind’s eye fills with the memory of Dad’s uncaring expression as the doctor told us my brother is permanently disabled. “You’re wrong.”

“I don’t think I am,” he remarks. My back hits the steel wall of the workshop. Zeke places a hand on either side of my head, effectively trapping me. “And neither do you… not if you’re truly being honest with yourself.”

“He’s my dad.” Another head shake that doesn’t clear my vision. “He’s your president.”

“Yeah, he is.”

We both fall still as the impact of what we’re dancing around truly hits. The shed seems to pulse with the stark reality of our situation. As the cool walls of my hideaway glint in the overhead lights and I stare at my man, the air turns stale, and I find it hard to breathe. There’s a sympathetic glimmer in my fiancé’s gaze as he ducks his head to press his lips to mine.

Our kiss is short. Nothing more than a quick peck. Even so, it’s enough to break me.

I grip the lapels of his cut and pull him to me. Face hidden in his neck, desperate to block out the betrayal that’s got a vise grip on my heart, I whimper, “Why would he do this? It doesn’t make sense.”

“It doesn’t,” Zeke agrees. “Just know what my gut is tellin’ me and that it matches with what others are seein’.”

“Who else sees what you’re seeing?”

Zeke drops his hands to my shoulders. His fingers bite as he holds me tight. “You already know the answer to that question. It’s plain to anyone who’s been payin’ attention.”

I screw my eyes shut. I’m not sure if it’s to evade the knowledge that Zeke is right that it’s clear which Shamrock sits on each side of this situation or to hide my devastation from him. All I know is that the damage Alex did to me two days ago has nothing on the pain that’s blasting through my veins as I come to terms with the reality that my father is up to no good once again.

With Alex’s father.

With the Maddisons again.

With the Bishops of Bloodshed.

With other members of the Shamrocks?

“What am I supposed to do with this knowledge?” My question is barely more than a whisper.

“Me and Hunter are buildin’ a plan, but we need your help before we can bring anyone else in with us.”

Forcing my eyelids to lift, I jut my chin with obstinance, even as my heart pumps too fast and my legs turn to jelly. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll do it. He might be my dad… but the Shamrocks are my family. My loyalty will always be to the club that my mother loved—the same club that loved me without restraint when she passed.”

“All right, then,” Zeke says with a sigh. “We need to break up.”

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