Page 57 of The Irish Redemption

“Shut up,” Saoirse snaps, elbowing her twin. “Honestly, Evelyn, just cut a slice and then we can dig in.”

“I’ve never carved anything before,” I admit, unsure why such a thing makes me feel so shameful. It can’t be a regular skill, can it?

“Don’t you worry,” Clodagh soothes me instantly, pressing a long fork into my hand. “I’ll take you through it. Stab the ham just about here. It will give you a decent grip on the meat.”

As I oblige, Cormac stands and begins filling the empty glasses with wine and juice.

“Now this knife is sharp,” Clodagh warns. “So if you feel like you’re going to slip, then stop cutting and adjust your grip.”

“Although I’ve worked with sharper,” Saoirse comments as she sips her wine.

“We’re not carving bodies here,” Cormac remarks. “Although you butchered that last Christmas turkey. I’m surprised anyone lets you near a blade.”

“Oh, really?” Saoirse glares over her wine. “There’s a reason they call me and not you when they want real information.”

“And you’re both shite at getting the real answers first try,” Cormac replies, settling back in his seat. “Maybe you should both go back to training on birds.”

“Scared I’ll out carve you?” Cian’s eyes flash.

“You can’t even outrun me, little brother.” Cormac barks out his laugh. “I ain’t scared.”

“Oh, really? You wanna race right now? I’ll kick your ass all the way to the barn.”

“Prepare to get shit on, little brother?—”

“Sit down,” Clodagh barks, placing her hand over the top of mine holding the knife. “This food isn’t going to waste because you two want to piss up the creek, alright?”

Cian and Cormac share a good-natured glare, and relief pours through me as Clodagh helps me carve my first perfect slice of ham. It’s not as difficult as I expected, but my next two slices without her help are definitely lacking. With a chuckle, she takes over and sends me back to my seat where Cormac grips my thigh under the table.

“Nicely done,” he says in a low voice.

“Thanks,” I murmur, and his praise sends a pulse of warmth through my chest.

Dinner is a wonderful affair. Plates are piled high with food, and there is only the occasional clash of spoons when two people want the next scoop of potato. Everything is cooked to perfection, and despite how heartily I eat, I keep going back for more. I’ve never tasted anything like this before, and it has to be because it’s homemade. My mother’s version of home-made was from freezer box to plate, and there was a distinct lack of love there, especially after my father passed. This table is like a whole other world and I am here for it.

Just as I swallow my final bite of corn and tell myself I can’t eat another bite, Clodagh pulls out a cheesecake and cheers rise around the table. Everyone has room for dessert. As memories are shared and the twins reminisce about the one time they tried to make their own cheesecake but failed because their father was a terrible cook, something about Clodagh’s being away for work caught my attention.

“I’m sorry,” I say as I cut through the laughter. “Away for work, is that code for something?” Everyone else is so open about their life andwork in the Mob, but the phrasing about Clodagh catches me off guard.

Cormac frowns slightly, then he nods quickly. “Sorry, force of habit around guests, I think,” he says. “Ma was the Captain.”

A crumb of cheesecake goes down the wrong way and I choke softly, quickly grasping at my glass of water. His mother was the Captain? Suddenly, my casualness around her feels very rude and I drown my embarrassment in several gulps of water.

“I’m so sorry,” I gasp.

“Why?” Confusion washes over Clodagh’s face.

“I just… I thought you just worked at the ranch and stuff,” I explain quickly.

“I do.” Clodagh nods. “I always did, technically. Ask anyone who ran into this family and my husband’s name will leave their mouth before mine ever would. But you needn’t fret. There’s no special rules here about ex-Captains.”

“Sorry,” I whisper. Cormac takes my hand and squeezes.

“You’re fine.”

“That’s amazing, though,” I say once I’m over my surprise. I’d subconsciously viewed her as this homey ranch mother without a clue that she was just as powerful and as dangerous as Cormac. “I didn’t know women could…”

“Lead?” Clodagh prompts. “It’s not uncommon, but there can be pushback. The Russians, for example, have a woman in charge now, and you would think we are still in the fifties from how some of those generals acted.” She tips her glass back and forth. “In a way, my husband was my mask. I noticed pretty quickly that people defaulted to him, so I used that. He turned up and showed his face with my orders in his ears. Some families were more understanding and Icould deal with them directly, but when we started building the weapons business, I had to be more careful.”

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