Christmas morning, everyone gathers in the kitchen for a fried breakfast. We’ve always done it this way for as long as I can remember, Buck’s Fizz, breakfast, then gift opening around the tree in the living room.
The twins come running into the kitchen with the tray left out the night before for Santa. “He ate the mince pie.”
“The reindeer only nibbled the carrot.”
“Santa drank his juice though.”
Mom and Dad exchange glances. It’s always been family time, the only time of the year, according to Mom, when everyone switches off to what’s going on outside these four walls. She’s probably right. I haven’t thought about work since I rode Jupiter down to the stream yesterday with Mary.
It was a stupid move. I let my dick control my brain without a thought for the consequences, and I knew as soon as we got back to the house that Mary wanted more. It was a big deal for her. Of course, it was. And even when I realized that it was her first time, did I stop and walk away? Like fuck, did I. I was already in way too deep, and that’s what scared me.
“Where’s Mary?” Fianna’s question interrupts my reverie.
“She’ll miss the Buck’s Fizz.” Mom gestures to the champagne in the ice bucket. “Go and wake her up, Emmett.”
“Maybe we should let her sleep.”
“She’ll be disappointed if she misses anything.” Mom isn’t letting this go. “She was so excited about today.”
Was she?
“Emmett,” Dad joins in, “go get your girl. We’re only waiting for Mary.”
There’s no point arguing with them.
Leaving the warm hustle and bustle of the kitchen behind, I head to Mary’s guest room and stop outside. The room is silent. She must still be sleeping.
I knock gently, my knuckles barely grazing the door.
Nothing.
Okay. Maybe she had more to drink than I realized yesterday and is still sleeping it off. I rap the door harder three times, like it’s a pre-agreed code. Then I listen.
Still nothing.
“Mary?” My fingers wrap around the doorknob. I don’t want to barge in and scare the bejesus out of her, but I don’t think she’s going to hear me. I try one more time. “Mary?” Louder now.
When there’s still no sound of movement from behind the door, I open it carefully, the door shushing across the carpet. I peer inside at the darkened room. The curtains are still closed, but the lamps are on, and I wonder if Mary is scared of the dark.
Then I realize that the bed is empty.
It’s empty, but it’s obvious that it hasn’t been slept in because the covers are turned down neatly on one side, the way mom always likes it, and the comforter is still smooth.
Opening the door wide, I step inside, trying to make sense of the empty room. The clothes Mary wore yesterday when we rode down to the stream are folded neatly on top of the old-fashioned chest at the foot of the bed. A fleeting image of Mary bent over in front of me with her jeans around her ankles, pops into my head, and I brush it aside.
Where is she?
Then I spot Granny Mary’s engagement ring on the dresser.
My stomach lurches sickeningly. Mary is gone. I don’t know how or when or where she has gone, but I know exactly why she left. Me and my fucking big mouth.
“We can leave the ring here when we return to New York.”
I couldn’t leave it alone, could I? I had to be sure she understood that what happened yesterday changed nothing. Because I won’t allow it to. I don’t deserve happiness when I let Oisin down so badly. And Mary deserves better than being sucked into a life where no one bats an eyelid at spilt blood.
I cross the room and pick up the ring. Who am I kidding? Yesterday changed fucking everything. The way Mary looked at me… I can’t remember the last time anyone looked at me that way. It sounds feeble and pathetic, but it made me feel special, and I don’t know when, or if, I’ll ever feel that buzz again.
I need to find her.
Sliding the ring into the pocket of my pants, I dash back downstairs to the kitchen. “Mary’s gone.” I grab my car keys from a hook on the wall. “I’m going to look for her.”
“Gone?” Mom furrows her brow while the word sinks in with everyone else. “What do you mean gone?”
A hushed ripple spreads around the room.
“She isn’t in her room. Her clothes are gone too.” I don’t mention the ring that’s burning a hole in my pocket.
“Gone where?” Granny Nina sits forward in her seat, lines creasing her forehead.
“I’m coming with you.” Fianna is already on her feet.
“When did she leave?” Dad asks. “She can’t have gone far in this weather.”
“We’ll spread out.” Uncle Sean takes control. “Ciaran, you take a car too. We’ll search the land.”
“Silly question,” Mom says. “But she isn’t somewhere in the house, is she?”
“Her bed hasn’t been slept in.” I’m already halfway out the door, Fianna close behind me.
We don’t speak as we make footprints in the thick snow on our way to the car. It must’ve been snowing all night for it to be this deep and untouched; any footprints Mary might’ve made have been long since covered.
In the car, I crank up the heating and wait for the snow on the windshield to melt. I hope to fucking God she took a coat, or she’ll die of hypothermia out there. What the hell is she playing at? It’s one way to ruin everyone’s Christmas.
“Did you have a fight?” Fianna’s voice jolts me back to the present.
I slide the car into gear and drive slowly along the driveway. The snow is still falling, not heavily, but enough to make visibility difficult. I think of Mary wandering around in this weather without a decent coat and boots—if she’s still alive when we find her, I’ll fucking murder her myself for pulling such a dumbass stunt.
“No.”
I pull out onto the road and turn left, Ciaran’s brake lights visible in the rearview mirror as he heads in the opposite direction. Mary doesn’t know the area, so I’m hoping she’ll have headed towards Laragh, the closest village.
“Why did she leave then?” Fianna’s gaze flits between me and the road ahead, the car’s head beams carving arcs of light across the snow. “Something must’ve happened. Did she find out who you really are? What was it, huh? Did she read an email that mentioned bumping off someone you don’t like?”
I’ve never heard Fianna speak about the family with such distaste, but I can’t think about that right now. Mary is missing because I fucked her and then told her it didn’t mean anything. And Fianna is right, that’s who I am.
My anger dissipates when I think of my role in Mary’s hasty departure. If anything happens to her, I’ll never forgive myself. One death on my conscience is enough to deal with, but Mary’s presence here is entirely down to me, and there’ll be no shaking this one off. Ever.
“I know there’s something you’re not telling me, Emmett.”
Jeez, the O’Hara women know when to stick the knife in and keep twisting.
“Who is Mary really?” She keeps her voice low.
I think I spot movement in the glow of the headlamps and lean closer to the windshield, rubbing the inside of the glass with my sleeve to clear the steam. I slow the car to a crawling pace, but there’s nothing there. My imagination playing tricks on me.
“She’s Mary Chrysler. She works in IT.” It’s the truest thing I’ve said since I arrived.
I can’t tell Fianna that our relationship is fake. Not yet. For her sake as well as Mary’s. If Fianna knew the truth, she would tell me to be honest, to stand up to the people who tossed a man off the roof of my building, to do the right thing by Mary. Because, despite the dangerous family connections, she still looks for the best in everyone.
“What about you and Ronan?”
That’s it, Emmett. Divert the attention onto the only other person in the car.
“What about us?” She turns her face away from me and stares out the passenger window.
“Don’t try telling me that he has changed.”
“People do change you know. You’ve changed. Mary has brought out the best in you.”
I grip the steering wheel, keep my eyes on the road. I tell myself that she’s only saying this because she likes Mary. She’s on her side. She thinks this is all my fault.
It is all my fault. I slam the steering wheel with the heel of my hand.
Mary has brought out something in me, even I can’t deny that. A softer side. A part of me that doesn’t hate the festivities as much as I usually do. I mean, I watched It’s a Wonderful Life all the way through last night without closing my eyes once or making a work-related telephone call.
I drive in silence. My thoughts are filled with images of Mary in that red dress at the party, her red hair tumbling over her shoulders. Mary dancing barefoot in the conservatory, her face flushed with excitement. Mary’s breasts in my hands. Mary sitting straight-backed on Fianna’s horse, her face so serene.
It isn’t real.
She’s only here because she witnessed a murder.
What happened yesterday by the stream was in the heat of the moment, fueled by the excited Christmas energy inside the house.
“What’s that?” Fianna leans forward in her seat, the belt stretching across her chest, and points at a bus shelter at the side of the road.
A small black car is parked on the other side of it, the exhaust sending clouds of smoke puffing across the snowy verge. But it’s the guy emerging from the shelter carrying something in his arms that I’m more worried about. Is that…
As I watch, Mary tries to wriggle free from the man’s grip, pummeling his chest with her fists.
I slam on the brakes, the car swerving from side to side as the tires try to find purchase on the slippery road, and eventually stop on the verge before the bus shelter.
I’m out of the car almost before it has fully stopped, leaving the door open behind me. I hear Mary cry out, “Put me down!” and my vision turns red. I sprint the rest of the distance between the car and the shelter, the guy turning to face me, slack jawed. I’ve caught him red-handed with Mary in his arms.
He’s wearing a beanie hat, and a black overcoat, but I barely register anything else about him. I grab Mary from him, her arms flailing until she realizes that it’s me, and cradle her against my chest. Her head flops onto my shoulder. She’s so cold, I can feel the chill spreading from her and through my clothes, making me shiver.
“What do you think you were doing?” I glare at the man.
Now that I’ve got Mary away from him, I can see his bloodshot eyes, and the way he’s swaying on his feet. He’s fucking drunk, and he was going to put Mary into his car and take her fuck knows where.
“I-I saw her in the shelter. She looked cold.”
“So, you thought you’d take her somewhere in your car where no one would find her.”
“Emmett…” Her voice sounds so weak, and I could kill the fucker for taking advantage of her. “Please don’t.” It occurs to me with a sharp stab of guilt that I’m the one who’s guilty of abducting her, but at least my intentions were good, even if my actions were not. The same can’t be said for this guy.
“It-it wasn’t like that.” He’s a big guy, but he doesn’t come at me, because he’s a coward who picks on vulnerable women.
“Emmett.” Fianna is out of the car and standing behind me. “Leave it. Come on, let’s get Mary into the car.”
“Yeah.” The drunk guy punches the air with his fist. “Go on, get back in the car and drive back to wherever you came from.” His expression twists into a sneer as he takes a step backwards, and I see red.
“What the fuck did you say?”
Mary, shivering so violently I’m afraid she’ll shatter her bones, tugs my sweater to get my attention. Her face is pale, her skin transparent, and her lips tinged blue, her teeth chattering noisily.
“You found me?” Her voice is hoarse, and I wonder how long she’s been inside the bus shelter. I need to get her back to the house and warm her up. “Are you going to take me home?”
“Mary? Is that your name?” The guy is still talking. What’s it going to take to get rid of him? “Mary, do you want me to take you somewhere?”
What the fuck?
“You need to turn around, get in your car, and drive away while you still can.” I keep my voice low, enunciating every word so that he knows I’m being deadly serious. “Now!”
His eyes narrow. The guy has a fucking death wish.
“Or what?”
That’s what he’s going with?
Fianna sidesteps around me. “Okay, that’s enough, guys. It’s Christmas Day. Please,” she says to the guy in the beanie, “just go home and enjoy your day. We’ll take over from here.”
The man’s eyes hop between Fianna and Mary who is still lying limply in my arms. “I want to hear it from Mary. I’m not the one who lost her, I’m the one who found her.”
His words sting, and the red behind my eyes becomes a swirling mass of fire.
I glance at Mary. “Mary, I’m going to put you back inside the shelter, just for a moment. Fianna will stay with you.”
“Emmett, don’t.” Fianna stands between me and drunk guy. A barrier. But it’s too late.
I settle Mary on the bench inside the shelter and flash a warning at Fianna to make sure she doesn’t move.
Three strides, and I’m back outside shoving the man in the chest. He stumbles backwards, arms flailing, but manages to stay upright. Then he comes at me, his fist narrowly missing my jaw.
I grab his arm and twist it behind his back, sending him sprawling face-first into the snow with one shove. “If I was you, I’d get back into my car now and drive away.”
The guy clambers back onto his feet and tries rugby tackling my legs. But he’s drunk, and I have the sober edge, dodging him easily. He lands in the snow a second time, his jaw colliding with the frozen ground beneath the layer of white.
I grab the back of his coat and haul him upright. Turning him around, I shove him back against the shelter, my fist circling his throat. His eyes bulge. His fingers claw at my arm. He reminds me of a fly trapped in a spider’s web, and I can’t bear the thought of him touching Mary.
“Listen to me carefully. If you ever come near me or my woman again, I will personally see to it that you have no fingers left to touch another soul with. Do you understand?”
A clicking sound emits from his throat, as his fingers scratch my sweater.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Now, I’m going to let you go, and you’re going to get back in your car and drive off without a glance in your rearview mirror.”
He’s still struggling to breathe under my grip, his gray stubbly face turning puce.
“You want to make sure we never cross paths again because I never forget a face.”
I shove him away from me, and he stumbles through the snow, dry heaving as he sucks in great gulps of cold air. He hesitates by the driver’s door of his car, turns back to face me, and yells, “Fucking wanker!”
I don’t waste a beat.
I run, and he scrambles inside the car, slamming the door behind him and driving away on squealing tires.
Adrenaline pumps through my body as I go back to the bus shelter, pick Mary up, and carry her back to the 4×4. Her eyelids flicker as I settle her on the backseat.
“Your woman?” she murmurs with a half-smile.
