Page 10 of Forbidden Bond

“Now we’ll never know.” She didn’t need to experience it to know she’d have been happy in a life with Conn. “Does it mean nothing to you that he showed me love? That with him, I learned what it was to be truly accepted, to be happy?”

She didn’t envy his conflict. Ire McDade, as her father knew him, was the epitome of a bad boy. No father, no regular father, would want his precious daughter with such a dangerous individual. He seemed to conveniently forget that he was no regular father. And that she was in no way “precious” to him. Their relationship, though it was changing in these days they spent together, wasn’t traditional either.

What kind of a daughter could sit with the murderous man responsible for the death of her love and the family’s patriarch, and accept his criminal acts? She didn’t accept them with happiness; no, happiness went away with Conn. But life with the McDades, the life she’d lived through her work, taught her normality was relative.

“We should get back to work,” her father said. “We’re close on this draft.”

Inhaling a deep breath, her eyes went back to the page as she prepared to read, again, their latest—

A knock brought their gazes together.

A knock. On the door.

“Did you order food?” she whispered.

Her father shook his head, bringing the gun to his hip as he rose to go to the window.

Should she call out? Why? So her father could shoot someone else? If they didn’t find common ground, a compromising resolution, only one of them could go back to their life in the city.

Though the value of her existence, without Conn, put a question mark over her desire to breathe. Without him, it didn’t matter much where she was or what happened. Spending time with her father was exhausting; how much fight did she have left in the tank?

With the barrel of the gun, Ronald edged the curtain aside and immediately leaped back. “Shit.”

“What is it?” she asked, probably louder than she should’ve. “Dad?”

“Fuck,” he hissed but went to unlock the door.

“Dad, what is—” He opened it and stepped aside to show their guest. “Lach!”

FOUR

TEARS OF JOY and sorrow sprang to her eyes. Jumping up to—she rebounded to the floor, the cuff attached to the wheel of the bed pulled her down.

Lachlan immediately frowned. “What the hell is going on?”

“How did you find us?” her father asked.

“That’s your first question? Why the hell is Sers—”

“Conn,” she said, swiping at her tears. “Is he alive?”

“Alive?” Confusion deepened her brother’s uncertainty. “Someone better—”

“Lach, please…” Her heart pounded as desperation leaped in her belly. “Have you seen him? Since we disappeared, have you—”

“No.”

Air did reach her lungs, yet all vestige of hope seeped out of her. She sank against the bed again.

“How did you find us, Lachlan?” her father asked.

Lachlan stepped in and slammed the door behind him. “Maybe we start with one of you telling me what the fuck is going on.”

“We’ve been… talking.”

“Talking,” Lachlan said, his attention deliberately falling to the weapon in their father’s hand. “And the suppressed firearm is what? Like the talking stick?”

Why would Conn avoid her brother? He wouldn’t. If she’d gone missing, and Conn lived, he’d move heaven and earth to get her back. Which would mean working with her brother who had access to police resources. That her lover hadn’t reachedout, hadn’t contacted her brother, didn’t bode well. The only explanation was he didn’t make it. She’d lost him.

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