Page 5 of Destructive Truths

I halt, tossing a glance over my shoulder. Then, in his eyes, I read his unspoken words and relay them aloud. “Not a word to Beibhinn and Mam about our arrangement.” He tips his chin up, giving me permission to leave.

I don’t need to be told twice.

I have one more trial to complete before I earn my seat on the opposite side of the syndicate table—and her name is Saoirse Ryan.

* * *

After checking every room in our lodge—Beibhinn’s Smut Nook included—my sister is nowhere to be seen. She’s my best bet at locating Saoirse, which is why I’m dirt biking up the mountain behind our house, hoping she’s at her favourite spot. As I close in on the range clearing, my bike rumbles to a stop. I spot her right away, earmuffs on, gun raised, as she easily manoeuvres her way through the obstacle course.

Cocking the bike on its kickstand, I pull off my helmet, hang it off the handlebar, and watch my sister in her element. A smile glides across my face as she annihilates the countless rubber dummies dotted throughout the tree-line, the sound of bullets whips through the air with unmistakable cracks. Being a woman in a man’s world, Beibhinn has spent hours and hours out here, honing her skills to perfection. She’s a bona fide badass, and there is not a man in this fucking town who could beat her shot when it comes down to aim and precision.

Dismounting my bike, I stalk towards the small hut on the outskirts of the course, then lean against the pillar, waiting for her to finish up. Several seconds pass before she finally runs out of ammo.

Her gaze tracks across the course, landing on mine with a curious glare before she averts her attention to the gun safe in the back of her all-black Land Rover Defender.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?” Her voice travels over her shoulder as she cleans up her gun.

I push off the pillar and stride toward her. “Can’t a brother want to talk to his sister?”

“Sure.” She turns, trapping me in her knowing glare. “But we both know that’s not why you’re here.”

Shoving my hands into my pockets, I straighten my spine. Beibhinn is a no-nonsense chick. She is a straight shooter who can sniff out bullshit like a highly trained K9. I need to tread carefully with my intentions towards her newfound friend. She can’t know what Dad is scheming, and if I want to keep my relationship with my twin intact, she can’t find out that I agreed to help him execute his plan.

“I was wondering if you knew where Saoirse was. I tried calling her, but her phone is off.”

“She stayed at Rohan’s.” Four words and they stifle the air. “He texted me last night, so I wouldn’t worry about her not coming home.”

Finally, Beibhinn turns to face me, a teasing smile tugging the corners of her lips. Her eyes narrow as her gaze roams over the hardened contours of my face. I knew Saoirse was with Rohan, but hearing it hits a little different. Immobilised by rage, I bite down on the inside of my cheek.

“What’s the matter, Liamie?” Beibhinn smirks, her words dripping with sarcasm. “Is your big ego bruised?”

Capturing the tip of my tongue between my teeth, I bite down, locking my jaw. Finally, when I cage my feelings, I ask, “Why are you so against the idea of Saoirse and me? You’ve been pushing her towards Rohan since she arrived.”

Beibhinn rolls her eyes and places her hand on her hip. “I’m not against it… not entirely, anyway.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Look.” She drops her shoulders with a deep exhale. “The syndicate has been your sole focus for the longest. You’ve expressed repeatedly that you will do anything to earn a seat on the ‘adult side’”—she raises her hands in the air, punctuating the words with finger quotes—“of the table. But then, the long-lost heir rolls into town, and you’re all in with her.” She raises a brow, calling bullshit. “I like Saoirse, Liam. Being thrust into our lifestyle is enough for her to deal with. Forgive me if I don’t want you to use her as a pawn in whatever game you’re playing.”

Even if she’s bordering on the truth, her words sting more than they should. But I play it off. “That’s not what I’m doing, Bev.”

Disappointment lingers in her eyes, and then she turns back to her Defender and resumes packing up her things. Finally, after a long minute of silence, she peers over her shoulder. “If you’re not in it for the right reasons, Liam, leave the girl alone and let her figure out how to navigate a life she knows nothing about.”

My throat constricts, but I manage a crooked reply. “And if I am?”

Beibhinn’s eyes bore into mine. “Then, prove me wrong.”

FOUR

SAOIRSE

Freshly showered and wearing a clean set of clothes, I sit with my fingers curled around a delicate porcelain teacup, the hot beverage warming my hands. Finally, I draw the piping-hot tea toward my lips. The steam fills my nose as I savour the sugary liquid sliding past my tongue. I don’t know what it is, but to every Irish person, a cuppa tea is the answer to all life’s problems.

As I sip, Aodhán never takes his eyes off me, watching me as though any second now, I’m bound to break. The deafening silence pierces the air, both of us waiting for the other to proceed. Finally, when I can’t stand the sorrowful pity in his eyes, I rest my cup on the countertop, run my tongue along my bottom lip, and expel a heavy exhale out of my nose. My need for answers is far stronger than my need for avoidance. But if I’m to understand the life my mother unwillingly thrust me into, the people surrounding me had better shed some light.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, because I sure as shit am glad you turned up, but what are you doing here?” I ask, levelling Aodhán with a raised brow. “And for the love of my sanity, please don’t hit me with any of that cryptic bullshit your friend loves to dish out. I’m beyond the white lies and twisted mind games. Donnacha almost fucking killed me. That disgusting excuse for a human being assaulted me twice in twenty-four hours. I deserve some truths.”

Aodhán leans back against the counter, his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles, and his arms folded across his chest. If it weren’t for the tight knit of his brow or the twisted corners of his lips, I’d almost believe he was relaxed, but I guess that’s all part of his easy-going, unfazed demeanour.

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