Page 71 of Ciaran
“How long is a while?” Declan presses.
I turn to my oldest brother. “Years.”
Declan sweeps a hand over his face and mutters, “Jesus.”
Finally, Callum speaks. “I feel like an utter shit.”
He strides across the room, drags me to my feet, and hugs the ever-loving crap out of me before releasing me just as abruptly.
“Bro, I’m sorry. I know I’m a mouthy, arrogant bastard who has far too much to say —at least that’s what Laurella told me last night.” He grins briefly. When I don’t return my twin’s smile, he pins me dead in the eye. “You are the glue that holds this family together. Declan might have been the one determined that we should stay close as a family, but it’s you who made it possible. If it weren’t for you, we’d have torn each other apart years ago.”
“It’s true, Ciaran,” Declan says gently. “If any of us had known how you were feeling…” He tapers off, almost as if he can’t find the right words.
I don’t help him out, either. I’ve said my piece. No need to labor the point.
“Why don’t you tell us what happened with Millie?” Callum’s twin radar must be firing on all cylinders because he’s picked up on my desire to move on.
Exhaling slowly, I bring my brothers up to speed. By the time I finish, they’re both wearing the sort of shell-shocked expression I imagine I’ve had since I realized I had no choice but to let her carry out her plan. And Declan reacts exactly as I expected him to. Selflessly.
“Screw the video. Screw our businesses. Today’s crisis is tomorrow’s opportunity. Go get her back.”
I thrust my hands through my hair. “You don’t know what it’ll be like, Declan. The press won’t let this go. Remember that detective from Florida a few years ago? Penfold, I think his name was. Similar scenario. In the end there was no case to answer, but by then it was too late. He lost his job, his home, his wife. Jesus, even his friends didn’t want anything to do with him. Millie was adamant she wouldn’t let that happen. Dammit, neither of us will let that happen to this family. Draven and I are working on a plan. If we come up empty, then we’ll think about alternatives. But for now, I want to try the path that will cause the least amount of damage, even if it’s fucking killing me inside to leave her with that bastard for a single minute longer.”
“What’s the plan?” Callum asks.
I fix him with a fierce stare. “I’m not dragging the whole family into this. Draven and I will handle it.”
Callum grips my shoulders, his fingers digging in. “You know where we are if you need anything.”
Ten minutes ago, Callum would have argued, demanded I tell him what the plan is, but whether my outburst has really hit home, or he’s decided I’m right to keep them out of it remains to be seen. Regardless, I appreciate the gesture.
“I do. Now, can you two fuck off out of here? I need a shower and some sleep. It’s going to be a long few days.”
Chapter 27
Millie
After an interrupted night of sleep, I wake to find daylight has broken, and I stare at the door. The chair—my security blanket—remains in place. With a frown, I get out of bed and, after shifting the chair, open the door, hoping it doesn’t make a noise to alert Tanner. I want to assess the situation first, gauge his mood. He isn’t behaving as I expected, and that makes me twitchy. Then again, I’m not behaving as he expected, either.
I creep down the stairs, being extra careful to avoid the second to last stair which has a terrible creak, and peer around the living room door. He isn’t there, so I tiptoe down the hallway toward the kitchen. Also empty. My heart rattles my ribcage, like a teenager in a B-movie horror flick who’s gone looking for the bad guy.
Carefully, I sneak back upstairs. The door to Tanner’s bedroom—I refuse to think of it as ours—is ajar, and I ease it open a few inches and poke my head inside. The bed has been slept in, although not made. I doubt Tanner has ever made a bed in his entire life. There’s still no sign of him, though.
There’s only one other room to check. The bathroom. He isn’t in there, either. This means only one thing: I’m alone.
My shoulders sag in relief. At least I can shower and dress in peace, then get something to eat. It’s coming up on twenty-four hours since I had any food, and I’m feeling weak and light-headed.
I return to kitchen, not bothering to be quiet now that I know Tanner isn’t around. As I make a pot of coffee, an idea comes to me. I can text Ciaran—a quick note, nothing more—to let him know I’m okay. He’ll be out of his mind with worry.
I riffle through my purse for my cell phone, but it isn’t there. I distinctly remember putting it in my purse when I got on the plane, because I had to set it to flight mode. My jaw tightens.
Tanner. The bastard. He’s always one step ahead.
Stupid, stupid, Millie. I should have taken my purse upstairs last night.
I stomp into the living room, and that’s when I see the note propped up against the TV.
Gone out. Don’t do anything stupid, otherwise I’ll get trigger happy on that video. I’ve got your cell. You can spend the day moving your stuff back into our room.