Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 84(@200wpm)___ 67(@250wpm)___ 56(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 84(@200wpm)___ 67(@250wpm)___ 56(@300wpm)
Before long, Keenan’s coming in through the door and is sliding across from me in the booth. Immediately, anyone who looks at us can tell we’re related. We have the same shade of ashy blond hair, but his is a bit darker than mine, almost giving him a brunette look. But it’s our eyes, how vibrant and demanding they are.
“I take it you know very well what day it is,” Keenan starts, and I nod.
“March 18th.”
He inhales deeply through his nose. “Yep, I hate this bloody day.”
“I don’t blame you. How are the girls holding up?” from what Keenan’s told me in the past, our sisters, Keeva and Delaney, usually take this the roughest.
“I’m not sure, haven’t been home as of yet. Eamon and Bran are supposed to be watching out for them, though.”
“Good, good.”
“So, what did you want to talk about?”
I settle back against the booth and look right into my brother’s eyes. I think about spitting out everything I know, but there has to be a better way to do this.
In my silence, Keenan appears to grow a bit irritated. He sits up a bit straighter and cocks a brow when he finally speaks. “Can you cut to the chase? Tensions are a bit high right now, so I apologize for my crassness.”
I smirk and wave my hand in dismissal. “Think nothing of it. Since you’re in a bit of a hurry, I’ll cut straight to the chase then. You know the Mackenzies, yeah?”
“Like, the Mackenzies?
I nod.
“Who doesn’t know about them?” he asks with a laugh.
“I found something.” I dig into my suit jacket pocket and hand Keenan the letter Beretta gave me. He unfolds it and begins to read the contents. “I discovered we’re related to the Mackenzies.”
“What? How . . . why? You can’t be serious,” he says every word as he’s scanning through the letter I just gave him.
“That letter proves Liam’s grandfather had an affair with our grandmother. Read the letter. What’s the name of the baby Fionn had with Eimear?”
Keenan focuses for a moment. “Aisling, but it could be a coincidence.”
“I don’t think it is, and I have a DNA test being run at the moment to confirm it.”
“Cillian, this doesn’t make any sense.”
I sit up a bit straighter and lean over the table. “Sure it does. Answer me this. Did our mother ever talk about our grandfather?”
Keenan thinks for a moment. “No, not once.” He’s answering me honestly, and I know our grandmother passed away a couple years before our mother’s untimely death.”
“Your life is about to change, my brother. I know you’ve had many struggles over the years, but soon you’ll know what it’s like to never struggle again. Have faith.”
“Have faith? What in the hell is that supposed to mean?” Keenan grumbles in my direction.
“It means I’ve pieced everything together. We’re only waiting on the formality of the blood test at the moment. Once everything is settled, I’ll show you how things run on my side of the world. No more of this militia bullshit for you, but this isn’t something you need to focus on right now. Today’s the anniversary of our mother’s death, and we’ll talk about this later. Go be with our siblings. I’m sure they need you right now.”
With a nod, Keenan slides out of the booth and shakes my hand. “Thank you.”
Even I can see he doesn’t need to be here with me speaking about this. He needs to be with our brothers and sisters. Unlike me, they all knew our mother, and while I do have some sort of pain, it won’t ever compare to what they go through on this day every year.
I finish my drink, fish out some cash from my wallet, and leave it on the table. I make my way out of the pub and begin to head to the hotel I’m staying at while I’m here in Belfast. I make it about a block before my phone begins to ring violently from my suit jacket pocket, so I fish it out.
“Hello?”
“Cillian, I know this is a bad day to call, but I got something,” Beretta’s thick New York accent comes through the other end of the phone.
“Okay, what do you have?”
“Are you sitting down? What I’m about to tell you is some next-level fucked up shit.”
“No, I’m walking down the street. Just spit it out. Whatever it is, I can handle it.” It can’t be as bad as she’s making it out to seem.
“Cillian, it’s bad. You wanted me to look into things about your mother’s death, well I did. I found the neighbors across the street from you, and the ones behind you had security cameras. They weren’t the best quality, but they were a lead I needed to follow. Thankfully, they both had storage that went back that many years. It was a needle in a haystack, and somehow I managed to find what I did and—”