“All done,” Caitlín announces.

  I stare at myself in the mirror. She’s pinned the sides back in loose twists and left the rest to cascade down in long waves. My makeup is light and natural with a pale pink lip gloss that shines, but doesn’t look wet. Taking a deep breath, I stand and turn to face the three of them. “How do I look?”

  “Absolutely stunning,” Caitlín breathes out in awe while Nessa and Aisling nod their heads with eyes wide and mouths gaped.

  There’s a narrow full-length mirror attached to the back of the door and I walk over to it to study myself. My dress is a simple, but beautiful A-line with a sharp V-neckline that shows the perfect amount of cleavage. The asymmetrical skirt is a triple-layered satin that’s shorter in the front before lengthening and billowing out around the back. I turn around and twist at the waist to glance over my shoulder. The straps are almost a halter, except they form an X centered right between my shoulder blades exposing my lower back in the triangle-shaped opening. There aren’t any other embellishments. The minute I laid eyes on it, my gut told me it was the one.

  For the second time, there’s a knock on the door. Caitlín goes to answer it. On the other side is Carrick.

  “The priest is here and everyone’s in their places whenever you ladies are ready,” he tells her after a brief kiss on the cheek.

  She turns back to me with a huge smile. “You ready to put that ball and chain on my cousin?”

  I snort and burst out laughing. “I’m ready.”

  With Aisling skipping between them, Caitlín and Nessa head to the small suite where the ceremony will take place. Carrick turns toward me with a soft smile that changes his face entirely. He isn’t the head of the Irish mafia today. He’s the father whose son is getting married and the father-figure who is walking me down the aisle.

  He takes both my hands. “You look beautiful. I’m so happy for you and Aidan and I’m proud to call you daughter.”

  Tears well at his kind words. But they’re also a reminder that neither Mum nor Da are here to see me get married. Da had always liked Aidan.

  “Thank you, Carrick. Not just for welcoming me as part of your family, but for raising such an amazing son.”

  “I wish you both a lifetime of happiness.” He loops my hand around his elbow and leads me to where everyone—where Aidan—awaits.

  The sound of music reaches me through the closed doors of the room and we stop in front of them. Two ushers who work for the venue stand on either side of it. Carrick lays his hand over mine and squeezes it gently. I swallow at the sudden rush of emotion. We stand there for several minutes until finally the song changes and that’s our cue. The two men each grab a handle and pull apart the double doors.

  Heads turn and then we’re slowly moving forward. Both our families are seated in chairs that are placed on two sides of the room forming an aisle in between both sections. At the head of it stands Caitlín, Nessa, and Aisling on the left. To the right are Kellen and Carson who both nearly cried when Aidan asked them to stand up with him. And directly in the center, just in front of the priest, is Aidan. Our gazes lock and neither of us can look away as his Da and I draw closer.

  Even from this distance, love shines from his eyes. I feel it deep inside me. No one has ever looked at me like this. I suspect it’s the same way I’m looking at him. My heart is full to bursting. It takes far too long, although it’s only a minute, but finally, Carrick and I stop next to Aidan. The priest speaks but it’s nothing but a buzzing in my ears. All I can focus on is the man in front of me.

  There’s a soft tug on my arm as Carrick releases my hold on him. He ghosts a kiss across my cheek and then Aidan’s strong, calloused hands are wrapped around mine and he brings both sets of knuckles up to his mouth for a soft and gentle kiss.

  The priest speaks again, and somehow, I manage to give all the appropriate responses at the right time. Then he faces Aidan.

  “Do you have the ring?”

  Aidan lets go of my hands and turns to Kellen behind him, who passes him the plain platinum band. Then he’s facing me again and taking my left hand.

  “You may place the ring on Sorcha’s finger and speak your vows now,” the priest instructs.

  I blink. We were supposed to have our own vows? Mild panic rises, but then it’s soothed away by Aidan’s voice.

  “Sorcha Noreen O’Connell. You’ve been my best friend. My confidante. My lover. Now, you’ll be my wife. The woman I plan on spending the rest of my life honoring, cherishing”—he pauses, a bright light shining from his eyes, and slowly releases a breath as he slides the band in place—“and loving to the best of my ability. Thank you for never giving up on me. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure that every day you know how much I care for you. How much I love you. I’m sorry it took so long for me to realize.”

  I take in a shuddering breath and barely hold back my sob. Tears streak down my cheeks.

  “Sorcha would you like to make a vow?” the priest asks, as though he knew ahead of time that I hadn’t prepared one.

  Except it doesn’t matter, because as soon as Caitlín gives me the ring, I speak from my heart. “Aidan Brian Donnelly. Five years ago you saved me. Not just from a bad situation, but from grief. You’ve been there for me through everything, never wavering in your friendship and support. From that first moment I’ve loved you and only dreamed that one day you might love me, too. Thank you for making all my dreams come true.”

  The priest says a final prayer and then, “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

  Aidan doesn’t waste a single second before he palms my cheeks and his lips are on mine. Cheers and clapping echo around us, but the only thing I care about is my husband. Oh my god. Aidan is my husband. Joyous laughter spills from me. He draws away and our eyes meet.

  “Wife,” he says in a gruff tone.

  “Husband.”

  Aidan threads his fingers through mine and turns us to face our family. Everyone is on their feet whistling and celebrating. The music plays and we step down off the slightly raised dais to walk toward our future. The music is drowned out by a massive boom. The floor shakes.

  Confusion is on several faces, but the men’s expressions turn fierce and they all share intense glances. Heads swivel like we’re all searching for the source of the noise, when there’s another explosion and everything around us turns into chaos as the walls collapse with a deafening boom.

  CHAPTER 27

  Aidan

  Gunfire rings out as debris falls from the ceiling.

  “Everybody down,” a gruff voice yells out that sounds like Da’s.

  Sorcha’s hand is ripped from mine and she falls to the ground. I scream her name and cover her body as I cough on the dust, and smoke fills my lungs. Children are screaming as more popping sounds reverberate around us.

  I can still make out shadowy figures. My attention turns to my wife lying still beneath me. I can only pray someone doesn’t shoot me in the back.

  “Sorcha, baby, look at me.” I carefully run my hands over her, searching for a wound.

  Blood stains her dress. My hands shake as I shove all the fabric up and out of the way, my heart beating like a drum, and fear like I’ve never experienced before swells inside me. I can’t breathe from it. There’s a bullet wound along her upper thigh, although it only appears to have grazed her. She groans and shifts. I search her again and find a large bump on the back of her head.

  Roars of pain join the whimpers and cries around us and bodies fall. Fuck. I reach for the ankle holster under my pants and pull out my weapon. Finally the smoke begins to clear giving me a better view of my surroundings. Concrete walls lay crumbled around the perimeter.

  The gunfire slows until only a deathly silence fills the air.

  “Throw down your weapons or I will kill her,” a heavily Arabic accented man breaks it.

  I search the room. The women are huddled on the floor protecting the weeping children. Dead bodies—enemies—lie in crumpled heaps. My brothers, Da, Roarke, and Nathan are all standing with their weapons pointed toward where the doors leading into the suite used to be. Several armed Moroccans—none of them Ayman Naji—flank the man in the center, whose arm is wrapped around Imogen’s neck and who’s holding a gun to her head. Fear lines her face and her eyes are locked on Liam who faces them with his own gun raised. His other arm hangs loosely at his side and blood drips off his fingertips and falls to the floor in a puddle at his feet. I don’t have a clean shot and I don’t want to move and set off any itchy trigger fingers.

  “I said throw down your weapons,” the man holding Imogen roars again.

  “Not a chance. If you hurt her, you’re a dead man. You’re all dead,” Liam says in a harsh tone.

  “My men are closing in as we speak,” Da warns, pain etched on his face. “You have nowhere to go.”

  I study him and spot the blood soaking through his shirt. How bad is it?

  The Moroccans exchange glances, as though they’re trying to decide whether or not to believe Da. They converse in Arabic until the man holding Imogen slowly backs up, his hold on her not loosening an inch as he brings her with him. The men behind him follow suit, their weapons still trained on all of us.

  My family moves as a single unit forward, no one taking their eyes off our retreating enemies. At my feet, Sorcha groans again.

  “Aidan,” she whimpers.

  There’s no decision to make. I let Da and the rest take care of things and I drop to my knees next to my wife.

  “I’m here, baby. I’m here,” I reassure Sorcha, caressing her face and brushing her hair back, taking care to avoid the lump on her head.

  Her eyelashes flutter and slowly open. Her pupils are dilated and she blinks rapidly as though she’s having trouble focusing. Finally, she’s able to lock onto me.

  “Wha—what happened?” She tries to sit up and whimpers in pain.

  “Careful. A bullet grazed you.”

  Her head snaps up and she clutches the side of it. “God, my head is killing me. This is worse than any hangover I’ve ever had.”

  I carefully lay my hand on top of hers. “You probably have a concussion.”

  Several shots are fired outside somewhere followed by sharp commands in both English and Arabic. Sorcha jumps. As if remembering where we are, she cries out. “The kids.”

  Quickly, I scan the room again and find them. Kellen and Carson—whose faces are deathly white—have their arms wrapped around each other. Within their embrace is Aisling, her face equally as pale. Caitlín and Nora guard all three of them with their bodies, both of them staring where their men disappeared.

  “They’re okay. Caitlín and Nora have them.”

  On the other side of the room, Nessa and Lucia are protecting her three children. Rubble outside shifts and footsteps approach. Faint sirens blare in the distance. I jump to my feet, gun arm outstretched, ready to defend my wife and our family. Da steps over the pile of rubble—his gaze searching and landing on Nora—slowly followed by Finn, then Nathan and Cian who both head straight for their families, and Roarke who crosses over to Caitlín.

  Kellen, Carson, and Aisling run over to us, and I quickly shove the weapon into my waistband at the small of my back under my jacket. A sobbing Aisling throws herself against Sorcha, who hisses in pain, but cradles the little girl in her arms, rocking her with soothing words. The boys cling to me and I bend to pull them tighter against me.

  A noise brings my head up. Liam enters with Imogen tucked closely against his side. Rage radiates from him and while she’s not crying, there’s an eerie stillness to her despite being upright and walking. They come to a stop in the middle of the room.

  “Is everyone okay?” Da asks with Nora still in his arms.

  Murmurs of assent ripple through the air. I glance down at the boys, who finally release me, but stay close enough to touch.

  “Are you two okay?”

  They nod their heads shakily, their ashen faces slowly gaining color. I crouch down again and stroke Aisling’s hair. “Hey little nightmare. You’re not hurt anywhere are you?”

  She buries her face in Sorcha’s neck and shakes her head. I can tell my wife is in pain, but she won’t say anything. Outside, the sirens grow louder.

  “Aisling,” I say softly, trying to soothe her fear. “Sorcha’s leg is hurt. There’s going to be some people arriving soon that are going to help, but they’ll need to look at her so they can make her feel better. Can I hold you while they do that? I promise it’s going to be okay.”

  Slowly, she loosens her hold on her sister. Her eyes are swollen and her face is flushed as she stares up at me. I smile gently and carefully brush her curls back and tuck her hair behind her ear. The sirens blare loudly directly outside and pounding footsteps approach. Da, Roarke, and my brothers form a protective barrier in front of everyone just to be safe, but when the paramedics and Gardaí step across the rubble, they lose some of their rigidity.

  “Come on, let’s give them some room to take care of Sorcha, okay?”

  Aisling raises her arms and I pick her up. She wraps all her limbs around me and lays her head on my shoulder. Kellen and Carson stay glued to my side as I take a few steps back and let the men I gesture over do what they need to do. I keep close watch on her though, needing to reassure myself Sorcha’s going to be okay. It may be a while before I let her leave my sight.

  Da reaches my side. He fusses over the boys, checking to make sure they’re not hurt and then glances up at me. Grief shows heavily on his face as his eyes lands on Aisling. Then they meet mine.

  “How’s Sorcha?” His gaze drifts over to her.

  “Her leg was grazed and it’s bleeding some, but I’m not sure if it’ll need stitches or not. Also some of the falling debris knocked her unconscious. I’m sure she has a concussion, but she’ll be okay.” I glance at his shoulder. “How bad is it?”

  He waves me off. “I’ll live. Finn and Cian are unscathed, but Liam took a bullet to the arm.”

  “And Imogen?”

  Da’s gaze lands on his daughter whose eyes are no longer dull. She doesn’t appear to be in shock anymore. Instead she’s fussing over Liam while the paramedics treat him. He may need to go to the hospital, unless he has a private physician that does home visits.

  “She’s a Donnelly,” he says as if that explains everything. And it does. We’re all stronger than anyone thinks. Stubborn too.

  “What about the Moroccans?”

  He darts a glance between the boys and Aisling’s back before he turns back to me. “Several of them got away.”

  I nod. Even if they hadn’t, Da wouldn’t let this attack on his family go unpunished. If the Moroccans want a war, then they’ve got one. I glance at Liam again. After this, where does he stand?

  The paramedics have bandaged the flesh wound on Sorcha’s thigh and after a brief discussion that I can’t make out, she waves them off. Da claps me on the shoulder.

  “Go take care of your wife.”

  He walks toward Nora, but is waylaid by the Gardaí. I take Aisling over to Sorcha. The boys are right on my heels. We reach her and she gingerly stands, wincing slightly. She fusses over them, cradling their faces and running her hands over their bodies like they were injured instead of her. They let her, probably knowing she needs it. The three of them probably do, too. Just as much as she does.

  “What did they say?” Whatever their instructions, I’ll make sure she follows them.

  “They cleaned my leg and bandaged it. They said that if I have any headaches or blurred vision to schedule a visit with my GP.”

  With Aisling still clinging to me, I wrap an arm around Sorcha’s waist and pull her against my side. She’s a bit slow to move, limping the step closer to me. “I’m going to take you all home. Da will deal with things here.”

  She nods quietly. I reach for her hand and we carefully weave our way through the mess until we reach outside. The road is blocked by the ambulances, the fire brigade, and more Gardaí. My car is parked a few spaces down and luckily escaped any damage. Everyone climbs inside.

  On the drive home, no one speaks. The quiet is louder than any voices. Sorcha is turned away from me and stares out the window. I glance in the rearview mirror and Aisling sits between her brothers with her head resting on Kellen’s arm. Carson holds her hand. I’ve never felt pure unadulterated fear like I did today. If I hadn’t been sure I loved Sorcha before, I am after this. I’d be lost if anything ever happened to her.

  Needing to reassure myself she’s here with me and safe, I reach over for her hand and thread my fingers through hers. Anytime I do this, she always glances over at me with a smile. But she keeps her head turned so only her profile is visible. I rub my thumb up and down hers in a soothing gesture. I’m sure everything’s been a shock to her. Once she has time to rest she’ll feel better.

  I ignore the voice whispering that I’m lying to myself.

  CHAPTER 28

  Sorcha

  I can sense Aidan’s attention on me. My head pounds and the wound on my leg burns. Fear still flows through my veins. So much so that I am barely managing to keep it together. The pressure bearing down on my chest makes it hard to breathe. All I want to do is grab Kellen, Carson, and Aisling and run as far away from Dublin as I can.

  That means running away from Aidan.

  An hour ago, I would have scolded myself for such thoughts. Except they won’t stop.

  The kids are all quiet and I take a few glances back at them, making sure they’re okay. Jesus, how much therapy are they going to need after this? How much am I going to need? I breathe through the panic that is starting to take hold, centering myself. You’re okay. It’s okay.

  It takes far too long before we finally drive past the gate and park in front of the manor. Being careful, I get out and open the back door for Kellen and Aisling. Carson gets out on Aidan’s side. The kids are a mess. The boys’ suits are covered in dust as is Aisling’s beautiful dress. I glance down at myself and nearly sob. A crimson misshapen stain covers a section of the skirt. That’s never coming clean. Hysterical laughter threatens to bubble up, but I choke it down because right behind it is a meltdown waiting to be set free.