I’ve been dreading the New Year because it means that I’m one day closer to seeing him again.
And I really, really don’t want to see Marco De Luca.
Now.
Or ever.
Not after how we ended things, anyway. Because if I were to see him again?
I think that he might end up killing me.
The fact that Marco knows my secret is a continual thorn in my side. I wake up, wondering if today’s the day that he’ll use that information to his gain.
If today’s the day that it will all blow up on me.
It’s exhausting.
‘Got your head in the clouds again, Roisin?’
I roll my eyes, taking the coffee that my boss, Seamus O’Hara, offers me. We stepped out of the office around midday, initially for lunch, but we decided to get coffee instead. Neither one of us is particularly interested in getting back into the flow of the Interpol station today. Seamus spent the holiday with his family, and I…
I spent it alone.
I shake my head. ‘You know I’ve never got my head anywhere but firmly on my shoulders,’ I snort.
Seamus winks at me. ‘Ah, but you’re allowed to dream. You do know that, don’t you?’
No. I want to scream at him. I’m not allowed to dream. I’m not allowed to do anything, except scurry from one moment in my life to the next, like some kind of goddamn rat.
The secrets are my problem. I used to think that it was cool to have so many secrets. I surrounded myself in them, wrapped like a blanket in a hundred of them.
I never thought that they could come unraveled.
At least, not like this.
‘Seriously Ro, what’s gotten into you today?’ Seamus looks over, worry in his eyes. “You’ve always been so… together. And today you’re just… not.”
I huff and take a sip of the coffee. The streets of Dublin still bear some of the trappings of the post-holiday celebrations. The gutters smell like piss and vomit, but the trees contain merry pieces of tinsel or glitter, twinkling sadly in the wet Irish air.
‘Nothing,’ I lie, feeling the secret burn my tongue with bitterness. ‘Just thinking about the trial.‘
‘Ah, that. No worries, darlin’,’ Seamus beams. ‘With your star witness, the trial is going to be an absolute breeze.’
It takes everything in me to keep from wincing.
My star witness.
Meaning, the man that I was supposed to keep in custody. The one that Seamus, and every other Interpol agent in Ireland, thinks I still have in my custody.
The one I let walk away from me after he found out my last name. My brothers.
My rotten, foul legacy.
‘Yes,’ I say through teeth that are clenched so tight, it’s a miracle my teeth haven’t cracked. ‘He’s ready to go.’
The fact that I have no idea where in the world Marco De Luca is sits on my chest like a damn weighted blanket.
You let him go, Ro. You’re the one who didn’t stop him once he saw the tattoo.
The circumstances around how, and why, Marco De Luca saw my MacAntyre tattoo are…
Well.
I certainly can’t think about them for very long.
Not in public, anyway.
It takes a physical effort for me to shake off the memory of that day. Of his hands on my skin. Of the moment he found it, the falter in his voice…
Who are you really, Roisin?
My mentor’s voice breaks me out of my thoughts. ‘Well, I’m off to do the paperwork for the day. The world may have taken a holiday, but crime did not,’ Seamus winks at me. I wave him away, then turn on my heel.
Guilt floods me.
Seamus is a good boss. He’s been kind to me, and helped me grow through the years. The fact that I lie to him all day, every day….
It used to be fine.
Now, however, I feel much less ‘fine’ about it.
I huff, sipping the coffee and considering my options.
I could go into the office. I’m certain that my own stack of paperwork is excessive, but…
Unfortunately, I have bigger fish to fry.
Such as finding out where the hell Marco De Luca is.
And whether or not he’s going to stand up at trial and testify, as he’s told me he would.
Because if I don’t find him, I’m going to be looking at not only losing my job, but a number of charges long enough to put me in jail too.
Right alongside the criminals that I have put there.
Instead of going into the office, I take my coffee and get into my car and head back to the little cottage in the village outside of the city. It’s my official residence, for now anyway.
Well.
It’s supposed to be, as I was supposed to utilize it in order to keep my charge from danger.
My hand drifts to the front gate, my fingers lingering. I push it open, my ears mindful, as ever, of the complete lack of squeak.
Marco fixed that.
He actually did a great deal of work on the little cottage, fixing things here and there as he stayed over the course of a few months. His touch is everywhere in the cottage, and I can’t hardly look more than a foot without seeing something that reminds me of him.
Which, of course, means that every foot of the cottage punches me in the gut with the anxiety over Marco De Luca, over and over again.
Huffing, I finish off my coffee and toss it in the bin, settling into my couch as I open my laptop. For weeks, I’ve been searching for evidence of Marco. I’m not entirely sure why, because it’s not like I can tell the other agents that I lost him.
They can’t help me take him back in. I can’t admit what I’ve done.
Because if I tug at even one lie, the whole damn thing is going to come unraveled.
If I told the other agents about Marco, then I’d have to tell them that he left because I’m a MacAntyre. And if they know I’m a MacAntyre, they’re going to get very rightfully suspicious about why I’m working for Interpol.
And they’re going to start to question some of the decisions I’ve made. The arrests. The convictions for crimes that eerily follow the lines of influence…especially the ones that benefit the family.
It’s yet another lie, layered in with all the others. One that I’ve held close to my chest for years.
One that I hate myself for keeping, if I’m honest.
Because it’s one of the only ones I’m ashamed of.
I’m just about to dig into some surveillance footage when the creak of my wood floor catches me by surprise.
I freeze.
There are no other sounds, save for the birds outside and the occasional rumble of a vehicle down the street.
Quietly, I place my laptop on the coffee table. I creep over to where my gun is, resting in its official holster, and slip the leather over my shoulders.
The creakiest floor in the cottage is near the back door. Pistol raised, I creep through the house, making no sound…
The floor squeaks again.
In a fluid motion, I click the safety off of the gun and step into the doorway. ‘Hands where I can fuckin’ see them,’ I snarl, pointing the gun in front of me at the shape in my kitchen.
‘I guess that’s one way to greet your brother,’ a voice says in response.
I keep my gun trained on him.
In front of me, a man turns. Green eyes, our father’s eyes, in a face that is ripped straight from my nightmares, looks back at me.
‘Hello, Sis,’ my brother Liam says with a smile.
I sigh.
There’s no joy or love lost between us, so instead of returning his smile, I point the gun at him.
‘The fuck are you doing in my house?’
Liam shrugs. ‘Haven’t heard from you in a while. Thought I’d drop by.’
I roll my eyes, clicking the safety back onto the gun. I put it back in my shoulder holster, but don’t put it away.
Liam raises his eyebrows. ‘You feeling saucy today, luchóg?’
The ugly nickname makes me bristle. ‘I’m not a mouse anymore, brother.’
‘Aye well. That you’re not,’ he gestures to the gun.
Good.
‘How can I help you?’
Liam sighs and flops into a chair. He looks over at me, his eyes…
Tired.
Liam has always been the more sane of my brothers. Unfortunately, he was raised separately from Kieran and I.
I didn’t know that Kieran had a twin for the longest time. When I first saw Liam, all that I could think was how afraid I was that there were two of them.
I still don’t think that I trust Liam. Not fully. It’s hard to, since almost every scar on my body was put there by the man who looked just like him.
Liam’s eyes, green just like mine, lack the fire and craziness of Kieran’s.
And, I note for the first time that he looks tired as well.
‘Congratulate me, sister. I’m getting married.’
I cough. ‘What?’
‘Married. In a month or two, I’ll bring home a new bride.’
‘I didn’t know you were dating,’ I say softly.
Liam doesn’t smile. ‘I’m not.’
‘Okay…’
‘It’s more of… an arrangement. A strategic alliance to ensure that there’s peace among a couple of key allies.’
‘Like who?’ I can’t help but ask.
Liam shrugs. ‘Do you have any new information for me?’
I turn, bile rising in my throat. ‘Interpol is following the Garda lead on some of the recent kidnappings in Cork. They think that someone is trying to antagonize shipping lanes.’
Liam swears softly in Gaelic, then stands. ‘I think we’ll need to move the date of the wedding.’
‘To when? And who’s the poor girl? Is she… does she know why you’re doing this?’
He nods. ‘She volunteered.’
A small part of me sighs in relief. I’m not sure why, but envisioning yet another woman caught in this whole web of lies feels…
Bad.
Worse, somehow, than the place I’ve spun for myself.
‘Who is she?‘
‘Anastasia Novikov.’
I blink. ‘The model?’
‘Aye.’
I look over at him. ‘Liam, isn’t she…’
‘She’s also a physicist,’ he says, looking down at his black leather boots.
Interesting.
The tone in his voice is almost defensive.
‘She’s wildly famous,’ I say.
He nods.
‘Isn’t she a little… high profile for you?’
‘That’s the point, sister.’
‘Oh,’ I murmur.
I have to hand it to him. It’s actually a smart move. Because if he’s married to a very rich, very famous Russian, it will be harder for him to be targeted by the numerous enemies that Kieran racked up over the course of his tenure as the leader of our family.
Liam glances at me. ‘Marco is going to testify against us, isn’t he?’
I sigh. ‘Liam, you know…’
He holds up a hand. ‘I do. I know. But we can’t have the attention. Not now,’ he says gently.
I nod.
Kieran ruined the family business. He involved us in dark, horrible things, holding us all prisoner.
Forcing me, a young Interpol agent, to be a double agent. I would give him information…
And he wouldn’t kill my mother.
Kieran and Liam and I share a father. My mother, a short-term relationship that happened outside of my father’s marriage, has been hidden.
From me.
For the majority of my life.
Kieran, however, knew where she was. That information died with him.
Liam and I have been working together to find her. I’ve always been convinced that, working for Interpol, she’ll show up.
Eventually.
Kieran twisted that desire to his will. Liam asks me to keep it going, for the survival of our family.
I shouldn’t do it but…
I do.
‘Just keep him from saying anything to harm us.’
‘It would be helpful if our brother hadn’t tried to brutally murder his sister,’ I snap.
Murder, of course, being the kindest fate that Caterina Rossi could have met that night.
‘Aye,’ Liam nods. ‘But now we’re allied with the Rossi’s.’
‘How?‘
He grins. ‘Wedding bells.’
My eyes open. ‘Anastasia.’
‘Yes. So. I need to get married. Before the trial. And Marco needs to keep his mouth shut.’
‘He will, if that’s the case.’
Liam shakes his head. ‘We don’t know what he’ll say. Marco De Luca may be allied with Elio, but he’s always been his own person. Clearly,’ he says, eyebrow raised. ‘As I don’t think he’s here right now, is he?’
I don’t answer that question.
With a sigh, Liam stands. ‘I won’t bother you further, sister. But be careful of Marco De Luca. He’s dangerous. Can’t be trusted. Will he be back in time?’
‘Yes,’ I say confidently.
Liam looks at me, his eyebrow raised.
‘He will,’ I insist.
Shaking his head, Liam heads for the door. ‘He better be. Or all of this is going to come down. And we’re going to be to blame.’
