Page 29 of Irish Daddies
“What did you say?” I whisper.
She meets my gaze, unflinching. “You heard me. My children belong to one of you.”
That’s not the part I meant. I’ve known all this time. I was the only son my father told about the boys. He said I was the only one with the guts to kill them, and at the time, I thought it made sense. They were evidence. Proof of a night in which someone was killed, someone the FBI was sniffing after.
But Caroline’s words echo in my mind.Part of our mafia family.She’s right.What if my father wanted them gone not because they’re evidence but because they’re heirs?
Rian stiffens beside me. “I saw them, Declan. They really do look like us.”
Kellan finally speaks, his voice low. “One has my birthmark.”
My stomach lurches. “You’re saying one of us knocked her up? Years ago?”
“They’re three,” Caroline says. “Do the math.”
I let out a bitter laugh and wince at the pain in my chest. “Why didn’t you try to contact us? Let us help?”
Her laugh shocks me, ripping through me. It’s genuine and bitter at the same time. She gestures to our surroundings—the wreck, the blood, the guns. “I didn’t want this for them. But they deserve more than what you’re planning, so if I have to sell my soul to keep them and me safe, I will.”
There’s a long silence. Even the birds have gone quiet.
Rian rubs his face and mutters, “We’re in it now.”
“We always were,” Kellan replies.
I shake my head. “This is insane.”
“No,” Caroline says, standing up straighter. “What’s insane is killing the mother of your kids just to keep a secret. You all had a choice. I didn’t.”
I glare up at her, but I don’t have the strength to argue. My chest aches too much. My pride even more.
She kneels beside me again and whispers, “Let me live. Let me keep them safe. I’ll keep your secrets. All of them.”
I close my eyes. Maybe it’s the blood loss or the quiet conviction in her voice, but I want to give her my secrets to keep.
Maybe it’s her fingers still on my back, holding me while she breaks me.
Caroline is special. Children that are hers and ours would be special.
And she’s right. They’re family. She’s family. Tied to the Crowley clan by DNA, by violence, and by blood.
19
CAROLINE
The helicopter stinksof blood and antiseptic.
A stranger waves us on, into the back. He’s wearing a black shirt, rolled sleeves, and a leather satchel. He doesn’t smile, and he only greets me with a terse, “Quinn.” He makes room for us and starts unpacking syringes and gauze.
“Doctor Quinn?” I ask as I climb in first, watchful eyes of all the men on me, daring me to try something. The scrap of metal is long gone now, tossed aside. They’re right not to trust me.
“Not quite,” he says with a wink before refocusing on his tools.
Kellan sits next to me in the helicopter that just barely fits us all and says in my ear, “The mafia prioritizes silence over credentials.” I stare at the man, looking for clues that he isn’t what he seems, but I see none. He looks sure of himself and his ability as he unloads a pair of small scissors.
When we’re all in, Quinn slams the door behind us and yells, “Oi! Ready!” at the pilot before immediately kneeling in front of Declan.
And we’re off, the helicopter taking lurching leaps like it’s learning how to fly. Suddenly, it’s loud. Really loud. Seeing the look on my face, Quinn barks out a laugh. “Oh! Almost forgot!” and he points to headsets on the seat behind him. Kellan leans forward to grab them and passes them out, to me, to Rian.
