“Her specialty?” Mack asked.
Lyse opened her mouth to reply, to somehow explain without sounding like she was the bad guy, but Fionn cut her off. He seemed to be doing that a lot tonight. When had he become such a bastard?
Oh, right. When she’d set a bomb that came far too close to killing him.
“Mam, we need to be headin’ on.”
“I don’t understand,” Siobhan said, looking between the two of them. “Explain to me what’s going on. And how you know each other.”
Fionn’s gaze flicked to Mack.
“He’s not going away,” Siobhan told him, voice brooking no argument. “That may be hard for you to accept, but it’s the truth. He already knows everything.”
Fionn fisted his hands, the knuckles going white.
“Stop right there.” Siobhan shot a mom glare at her son that made even Lyse swallow hard. “I’m an adult, Fionn. I make my own decisions on who to trust. You’ve been gone a long time. We both know why, and I love you for that, but I’m not the broken woman you had to protect when you first brought me here.”
“I told you, Fionn; he’s clean,” Lyse said.
He threw her a dark look, seeming to need a place to spend his anger. “Like I can trust your word.”
The response sent a shaft through her already aching heart. She rubbed at the spot, hating that she couldn’t hide how much his words hurt her, not from him and not from their audience.
“What the feck does that mean?” Mack barked at Fionn. At least someone wanted to defend her, even if it was only temporary.
“Fionn, explain.”
He eyed Mack, taking his time weighing whatever question was in his mind, before answering his mother. “Santo Ferrina Jr. is alive.”
Just throw it out there, why don’t you? She knew why he’d done it. This whole situation was way out of Fionn’s control, and he was fighting that any way he knew how. But still…
Siobhan’s gasp echoed in the room. “What?”
“How?” Mack asked. “I thought—”
“We did too.” Fionn rubbed a hand over his tight jaw. The rasp of his five-o’clock shadow against his knuckles whispered in her ears. “But he’s back. And we have reason to believe he’s working with the Irish Cartel.”
Mack blanched, his grip on Siobhan tightening.
“He’s not working with them,” Lyse put in. “He’s leading them.”
“How do you know?” Mack asked.
If she couldn’t beat it, why not own it? She held up her hands. “Hacker. A very good hacker.” One of the best, actually. It was the truth, just not in the way Fionn wanted it to seem.
“During her…observations…Lyse noticed someone suspicious watching your house,” Fionn said. “We’ve traced him back to the cartel and Ferrina. We need to get you out of here, Mam.”
“I’ll not be going anywhere.”
“What?”
“You heard, son.” Siobhan’s spine straightened, though she stayed in the circle of Mack’s arm. “I’ll not be leaving.”
“It’s really not safe here, Siobhan,” Lyse said. Much as she hated to tear Siobhan from her life, she’d seen what men like this could do.
The look Siobhan sent her was tender, just like always. When would that change? “I appreciate your advice, dear, more than you know, and my brain’s not addled. I know we have to come up with a plan to protect us all, but I’m not leaving North Quigley.” Her eyes darkened. “I gave up too much in the past. I have a life here now, and love”—she glanced up at Mack—“and I’ll not be leaving all that behind.”
Mack shook his head, his mouth tight. “I’m afraid I’ll be after agreeing with your son here, Siobhan.”
“Mack—”
He brought a hand up. “Just hear me out,” he said, the softness of his tone in direct contrast to the command. “You shouldn’t have to be going into hiding because someone decided to target you, but we all know we don’t always get what we want.” His hand clasped hers and settled it on her thigh. “I stopped by tonight because an informant contacted me. It seems there’s been some whispering in certain parts of the village, someone asking about you, your past, your routine. We have to be keeping you safe above all else. I propose we go out to my house for the night. Fionn and I can better protect you there, and tomorrow morning we can drive in to the station and form a plan, yeah?”
Fionn could take lessons from Mack in diplomacy. Of course, he’d never had an issue charming the panties off any woman he talked to—sometimes literally. With her, and now with his mother, were the only times Lyse had ever seen him lose that easy appeal. Maybe it was a sign of extreme emotion. Love, in Siobhan’s case; hate in hers.
A tingle at the back of her nose warned her that tears were on their way. She sniffed it back.
“All right,” Siobhan was saying. Mack glanced at Fionn, a brow arched in question. Fionn nodded.
“Go pack a bag, love,” Mack told her. Siobhan stood.
“I’ll help,” Lyse said. Maybe Siobhan would let her borrow some sleep clothes, at least. Everyone else was coming prepared, while she only had her keys and the clothes on her back.
“No.” Fionn snagged her wrist as she passed him. “You’ll be staying here.”
Siobhan stopped at the entrance to the hall and looked back. “Let her go, Fionn.”
He hesitated, and Lyse’s tears threatened to come back. She glanced up at him. “I’m just going to help her pack—nothing else. I won’t leave, I promise.”
Fionn narrowed his eyes as if he could laser through any bullshit to see the truth of her statement. But no matter what he saw, he wouldn’t believe her, would he?
Her shoulders slumped.
Surprisingly Fionn’s fingers eased their grip. Leaning close, he murmured in her ear, “Don’t make me come after you. You won’t be liking it.”
She dropped her gaze, not wanting Mack and Siobhan, both staring avidly, to see how much his words hurt. “I know.”
He dropped her hand. Lyse hated the
