Page 7 of The Enforcer's Redemption

"Skimming? Declan, you know I'd never permit that. Isla is a good girl. I'm sure she?—"

"It wasn't from us, you langer." Brynn takes a step toward him, fingers balled into fists. "Now tell us what you know."

Mick's eyes flick from Brynn to me and back. He's nervous and flighty. "She's a good girl, Declan," he repeats. "She would never…"

"She did, and a lot." My calmer tone seems to ease him. He steps backward and holds Brennan closer. "She's not harmed, but if the men she stole from find her, she will be. It's time to enact the plan. It's the only way to protect her, and you, now."

Brennan's head rises and she shakes it. "You can't. She has years left. She's not ready. Please." For a woman who just foundout her once-thought-dead daughter was alive, she should be happier to know that the worst to happen to her would be marriage.

"Oh, go have a whinge outside, ya banshee." Brynn jerks his chin upward and walks toward them, pushing her away as he grabs Mick by the front of his shirt. "Ya knew about the skimming, din't ya?" Brynn's aggression is completely out of line. These people won't fight me more than just a bit of complaining, and we have business with them. To upset the entire O'Connor family would be to start yet another war. The man has no tact at all.

"Declan?" Mick's frustrated eyes turn toward me. He won't fight back against Brynn at all. He knows what that would mean, but I can see how this is pushing the boundary of our agreement.

"Step off, Brynn…" I glare at him as he glances at me.

"The Muppet knows somethin' and we need to bring it back to Ro." Brynn's gaze hardens, and he throws a fist into Mick's gut.

I charge forward as Mick doubles over and exhales in a grunt. Brennan gasps and shrieks. She starts crying harder and cowers in the corner by the sink, covering her mouth. I grab Brynn's wrist and wrest him away from Mick before he can strike again.

"Wait in the car," I order, and he yanks his arm from my grasp. The heat of my gaze scorches him, making him loosen the collar of his button-down as he takes a few steps backward. My word is final and he knows it.

Brynn steps out, and I help Mick to a chair where he sits down. As we move, I see Rebecca standing in the far corner of the room, where the hallway to the bedrooms meets the small breakfast nook in darkness. Her eyes are wide with fright, herhand fluttering around her neck. Neither of these women got their emotional reactions from their mother. She's still bawling, now drawing a glass of water for her husband.

"Mick, I'm just here to pass it on. Sebastian O’Reilly is out for blood. I've had my men keeping tabs on your property, but that'll increase now. He wants her dead, and you after that." I stand with my hand on his shoulder as his head bobs.

"And the wedding then?" Mick's question makes Brennan whimper and cry louder. It's unpleasant for her to see her eldest daughter married off to align our families, but Mick made his bed and now he has to lie in it.

"Two weeks, maybe three. As quickly as we can arrange it… You know how this works. If she bears my name, it's safer." The unwritten rule that wives of made men mustn't be touched still stands. Isla O'Rourke means something different from Isla O'Connor. Even Sebastian O’Reilly will know that.

Mick sighs and sips the water as his head continues to bob. He looks up at Rebecca, whose eyes aren't quite as wide now. "I assume it's you, then?" Mick asks as his gaze sweeps up to mine. Ronan made the choice of which O'Rourke brother would marry her. I'm just the one he chose. I nod. "Then take good care of her. Let us know when and where we have to be for the ceremony…" He pauses for a moment and says, "Does she need anything?"

"I can take care of her needs," I say, but I turn to Rebecca. "But she will need some clothing. Everything she had was burned in the fire." Rebecca nods obediently and scurries away. This whole family is terrified of me because of my name, but one day, I'll show them that I am just the son-in-law, nothing to be scared of.

I wait for Rebecca to bring a bag of clothes, finish up a few business-related things with Mick, and then meet Brynn near the car. He's using the cuff of his suit jacket to polish the steel of his gun. He doesn't even look up when I approach. The tough-guy act is bullshit, something I won't tolerate. I'm ready to give him a tongue lashing when he speaks up.

"Everyone knows you almost defected, Declan." His almost-black, beady eyes unnerve me. There is a sinister energy to him, one I felt oozing off Eamon, my dead cousin, every time we spoke. "You’re a traitor, and the only reason you still have breath is because our leader is your brother. But you're not fooling the rest of the family. I’ll have your position when Ronan sees you for what you really are."

My anger gets the better of me and I dish out a little of the rage Brynn took out on Mick a few moments ago. My fist slams into his gut, doubling him over, and I spit on the ground near his feet.

"You follow my orders. If you ever do something like that again without my specifically telling you to, you'll have a hole between your eyes and your mother will be crying over a coffin."

So that's what his problem is? He thinks he knows me better than Ronan. This man has a lot to learn. He'll never become an enforcer as long as I'm living, and I'm a faster draw. He's going to learn his place in the food chain the hard way, and I'm going to be the one to teach him.

6

ISLA

If it isn't bad enough that I have to marry the dolt, he's sent in a fancy wedding seamstress. I don’t get to pick my dress or even the material. She's chosen something really scratchy and uncomfortable. The pins she is using to adjust the bodice to make alterations stick into my skin every so often, prompting a wince and a yelp. Like now as she works on the right side under my arm.

"Do you have to be so damn rough?" I snap. The strapless bra Rebecca sent to me is stained by my blood now, but there's nothing to be done about it. The woman working on this dress is either shaking in fear of my attitude or she's inept and shouldn’t be sewing.

My eyes shift to the full-length mirror Declan had brought in when he asked what I wanted. I got the bag of clothes from my sister, but there were simple things I missed. This mirror is one of them. My reflection reveals my own emotion, disgust, anger, probably fear if I look at myself long enough.

"Sorry, mum," the woman mutters for the fiftieth time. "I've no idea why my hands er shakin' so bad." Her head dips, and shesighs as she pulls the thick material away from my body. It can't be easy for her coming into an O'Rourke home and working like this. I wonder if she's here under duress, if I should be kinder.

My own mum often had women come in to make clothing for us, but farm life is slower than the chaos of organized crime—the pace set for darkness. We're kinder people too, more generous. Ronan O'Rourke and all four of his brothers are monsters who hold my father hostage to their deceit. It's why I need to get away from them, need to get my father away.

"I'm sorry too," I tell her softly, remembering who I really am. Working for them for so long has made me jaded and angry. It's not who I am. I'm just a woman who got caught up in the wrong mess. I can't even blame my father. He had his debts, true, and he could've found a different way to pay them off. Something tells me the O'Rourkes just twisted the knife and he had no way to back out.

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