Page 21 of Brutal Collateral

And mine goes tight as fuck. “Youknowabout the war with the Greeks?”

Who we’ll be related to, but I’m saving that bombshell for when she’s drinking whiskey, not tea.

“Your da met with Troi five years ago. He was trying to get you all to work for him.” Ma sits down.

More earth-shattering news.

I stagger back and want to strangle my mother for not giving us a heads-up, for letting me get blindsided by a Greek psycho.

“You don’t say,” I mutter calmly instead.

Shaking her head, Ma adds, “Your father swore an oath to Fergus O’Rourke and told Troi he wouldn’t change loyalties.”

“How did Troi take that?” I know a bitter Irishman wouldn’t take loyalty to non-family over blood lying down.

It hits me.

My sister Norah wasengagedto Kieran O’Rourke. We weresupposedto be family.

Christ, that engagement saved our lives. We could have been dragged into the war. Only, we’re dragged into it now and I’m the fucking general.

I sigh. “Ma, it’s going to be all right. But I need to get you some protection for your visits to Da. And protection for Da, too.”

“Troi was powerful,” Ma says, a hint of fear smoldering in her voice.

She knows real fear. Da was always truthful with Ma about his business dealings with the O’Rourkes.

Voice hard, I say, “Troi is at war with the Greeks. There’s a temporary truce and a few deals on the table to keep it that way.”

I can’t utter how I have to marry the Greek princess, wherever the hell she is. It’ll be too much of a blow right now.

Ma flips through the photo album. “I wonder if she had a happy life, Mary Ellen.”

“I don’t know.” I brush Ma’s cool and soft but hollowed-out cheek. “Did you have a happy life, Ma?”

“Aye,” she says softly.

The sadness in her eyes guts me. She doesn’t walk around sullen anymore because of my sister Norah’s death. And there’s no way to avoid her name because Ma is named Norah, too.

I’ve seen her smile bravely every day, especially when my nieces Sadie and Maggie are here. And she cried happy tears finding out Siobhan’s expecting. No one tells Ma to call her Sabine, the name she prefers. But we’ve all come around to it.

On the day-to-day, Ma’s happy. But looking back at her life, she has to factor in the greatest loss a parent can know.

Wesuffered that loss, too.

I finish with Ma, and she retreats to the den to watch her afternoon programs.

Ewan, Connor, and Shane show up at the house an hour later with our cousins Trace and Rhys Quinlan from Waterford, Ireland where we were all born. We meet in the kitchen over Ma’s leftover stew.

“Ma confirmed Mary Ellen was her cousin,” I say after taking a bite. “And that Troi reached out to Da five years ago.”

Shane lifts curious eyes from his bowl. “Never knew that.”

“He wanted us to work for him,” Ewan says, grabbing for bread, keeping up that dad-bod of his.

I shoot him a glare and put down my bowl. “And you never thought to tell us?”

“Do you know how many people wanted us?” he argues. “Even after you lost that military security contract with the Navy. The one I practically opened a vein to land.”

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