Page 22 of Vengeful Reign

“I didn’t do any such thing.” She huffs, looking adorable and so familiar. I wonder if Joanne chose her because Nora has a much closer connection. Trying to picture Joanne’s appearance, I look for any similarities, but I’m not seeing it. John returns to Nora with a toy in hand and climbs onto her lap without any permission, invading her personal space. He straddles her body, clinging to her.

“How the fuck did you end up with him in your care, and why is he calling you Momma?” I growl, feeling the insult to my mother since the title belonged to her, even though I’m thrilled that he’s speaking at all.

“Look, I didn’t kidnap him. I was asked to look after him even when others told me to send him off to the state.” My browkicks up and my hackles raise. Who the fuck else is involved? They’ll lose their lives for that shit.

“Who told you to send him to the state?” he growls. “Your boyfriend?” That fucker needs a bullet in his head and in his dick for good measure.

“Well, ex, now.” That’s very good.

“He thought my brother should have gone to the state?” I want to snap the fucker in half. Anyone who thinks less of my brother doesn’t deserve to live. He’s a wonderfully special little boy who has struggles, but he’s good. The only good one of us MacNamaras, and I hate how anyone could treat him badly.

“Yeah. I was twenty-three and just started using my teaching degree with no parenting experience, and raising a five-year-old autistic child is quite difficult.”

“Autistic? John’s autistic?” I questioned.

“You didn’t know that? How could you not know that if you’re his brother?” She jumps off the sofa, holds him tightly to her chest to shield him from me.

“It’s not what you think.”

“Oh yeah? She was frightened when she brought him to me, begging me to look after him, telling me he was in danger from his own family.”

“I would give my life for my little brother. I’ve been looking for his kidnappers since the day it happened. If I hadn’t found her, I would have never known John was alive.”

“Where is she?” she questions.

Fuck. I can’t lie to Nora, or she won’t trust me. “Dead.”

“You killed her.” She’s off the couch instantly and my hand is on her wrist, dragging her down.

I answer as calmly as possible. “No. My father did.”

Nora breathes deeply, attempting to regain her composure. God, she’s beautiful. “When?”

“Last year.”

Her judgmental gaze narrows at me, and I sense she’s about to be fired up. “And you took this long to find him?” Who the hell does she think she is? And why am I so damn aroused?

Normally I’d tell her to mind her damn business, but seeing as she’ll be my wife and I want her to comply, I may as well answer her with a basic response. I replied, “She never had a chance to answer before he killed her.”

She purses her lips, studying me with questions. My little brother tugs on her chin, vying for her attention. Naturally she gives it to him, cradling his body tighter without breaking eye contact with me as if it’s just automatic. He rests his head on her shoulder, playing with her hair and rocking. He used to do that with me before he fell asleep. Fuck, my heart feels that to the core.

“He’s still tired,” I say, knowing his little quirks.

“Yes. He normally sleeps a little later, but you startled him awake.”

“My apologies. I was quite anxious to see him and afraid you got wind of my arrival and were on the run.”

“I’ve never heard of you. In fact, I don’t know your name, other than Jack. As it is, all I know is that John’s name was listed under John Matthew Ingram.”

“Our family name is MacNamara.” Nora’s eyes widen as if she’d heard it before, but then she flinches again.

“John, please let go.” I realize he’s tugging on her hair. I reach over and help free his grip and say, “How about you lay him back down so we can talk for a bit? There’s a lot to discuss, and I’d rather do it while he sleeps.”

“I believe that would be a good idea. Hopefully he’ll agree.” She gives me a halfhearted smile. I remembered that a lot of the stuff we were allowed to do with John depended on his mood.

As we stand up, I look around the room and wonder if John’s old nanny gave her money, or if she just gave John all she had. Her house is small, not more than two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a medium-sized kitchen with a small living area. It’s modest but clean, even with all of John’s toys lying about.

I look at my men and point to the toys. “Clean up the toys.” They tip their chins and then get to work, putting the toys in the bins near the television. We walk to his room, which is set up nicely for a teacher’s salary. She sets him down and I cover him, giving him a kiss on his forehead. “I’ve missed you so much. I’ll never let anything happen to you again, buddy.”

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