Tiernan A Dark Irish Mafia Romance - Jane Henry Page 0,45

longest we’ve been apart since she got here, even longer than the brief meeting I attended.

I don’t like being apart from her.

I cut my workout short, grab a towel from the rack by the entryway to the workout room, and dry my neck and face. I douse myself with water.

Always glad to workout. Always glad to be done.

As I go to leave, I hear whispered voices outside the room. From the library? The door’s slightly ajar, so I peek my head in. Two of the paid staff, wielding feather dusters and a mop, are huddled over something on a little table. I peer closer, trying to see, but it’s too far away.

“She’s upstairs, she is,” one says in a hushed voice. She’s an older, portly woman with short white hair and a ruddy complexion. “I know it. Didn’t you hear her screaming when they got her?”

“Oh, aye,” says the other, a younger woman with her light brown hair tucked into a bun. “I heard her alright, but fancied they let her go. You don’t think he did? You reckon she’s still here?”

The older woman nods sagely. “I do. I’ve been doing women’s washing, haven’t I?”

“Ooooh.” They stare in silence at the table, and my curiosity’s got the better of me.

I clear my throat.

The two women stand up straight, flustered as they see me standing in the doorway.

“Mr. Hurston,” the older woman says. She tucks something behind her back.

I nod. “Give it here, please.”

They exchange worried glances, but our staff is trained to obey all men of the Clan. With trembling hands, the older woman hands me a cell phone. I frown, confused.

“What’s this?”

“News article, sir,” she says. “Local paper. About your… your woman, sir.”

I tap the screen, and it springs to life. I blink, quickly scanning the article.

My blood runs cold.

Prostitute

Stole from Edmund Doyle

Prime Minister’s Son

At large

“Mother of God,” I mutter. They’ve found the body, and she’s a prime suspect in the case. I send myself the article, take out my phone, and call Keenan.

“Tiernan?”

I fill him in as quickly as I can.

He sighs. “Just got word from Brady.”

Fuck.

“What does he say?”

“Agrees taking her to St. Albert’s is best for now, but she’ll need someone to help change her appearance first. While you’re there, we’ll secure things here. With Brady’s help, we’ll get her a lawyer, ensure that no harm comes to her or to us.”

I curse under my breath. A part of me doesn’t like that we’re leaving the mansion. We’re safe here, with our brothers as guards, but I know the school would be far more discreet.

“I won’t send you alone, Tiernan,” Keenan says. “You’ll have company.”

“Oh?”

I’m aware of the two women in front of me still watching me with wide eyes. I think they might’ve taken a few steps back.

“Aye,” Keenan says. “Lachlan will join you, as well as Tully. Cormac and I will be up at the weekend. And don’t forget Malachy’s good when it comes to battle as well, if necessary.”

Malachy’s the primary teacher at St. Albert’s, and an honorary member of the Clan, second cousins to Keenan and his brothers.

“Thanks very much.”

I do a mental inventory of the weapons I have in my room, and what I can take with me to keep her safe.

I could handle this better when I suspected they’d come after me.

But now that I know they’re after Aisling, I’ll burn the fucking world if I have to.

I can’t explain it, I don’t know why the need to protect this women possesses me so fiercely, but I can’t deny it either.

I hand the phone back and thank them, my mind a million miles away as I walk up the stairs to the main area. It’s always been my goal to protect those that I love. How can I do this, when I don’t even know who’s a threat to her?

“Y’alright, Tiernan?” Lachlan stands in the hallway, a cup of tea in one hand and a scone in the other.

I nod.

“Look like you’ve seen a ghost, brother.”

I shake my head, but he isn’t buying it.

“Outside,” he says, gesturing toward the front lawn I can see through the large window in the entryway. I shove my hands in my pocket and nod, following him out.

A cool breeze stirs the leaves in the tree by the garden in front of us, and behind us I can hear children laughing. I look over my shoulder. Two nannies are full time caretakers of the children who live here at the mansion. It’s almost like a