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I widened my eyes. Emma must’ve told Shannon what she’d done. I didn’t even have it in me to be embarrassed. Fuck it. Everyone knew I had earned my timeout.
Without a word, I handed the light blue box to my sister. If all else failed, something shiny would win her over. She took it, prying it open immediately. Like me, she hadn’t grown up with money. We were greedy when it came to material things.
“Oh, Jack…” Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes. She fiddled with the silver chain, trailing her fingers to the small charm. “Thank you.”
“A ‘C’ for Charlotte,” I explained.
“And Connor,” she added, setting it carefully back in the box and holding it to her heart. The lump in my throat threatened to return. She neared me and kissed my cheek, wiping a loose tear from her own.
“Change the Diaper Genie,” she ordered, pulling away. “And I’ll forgive all of your transgressions.”
I furrowed my brow in confusion. “Okay…”
Shannon’s ensuing grin was wicked. Shit, I knew that look. I wasn’t going to like this form of punishment, but I would hold my tongue and do whatever she wanted of me. Nothing could repay the time I had missed—the time I was going to miss.
“Kieran will show you,” she said.
My little brother walked into the room accompanied by Eoghan.
“Who the fuck is the Diaper Genie and why do I think I’m going to hate him?” I asked once Shannon left.
Kieran didn’t speak, but inclined his head toward the corner of the room. A tall white contraption sat in the corner, a button on its side. I pointed to it, eyebrows raised in a question. Kieran nodded, his expression inscrutable. He was pissed at me as well, but he would get over it. We were brothers. I didn’t have to try with him. No gifts or apologies would suffice—time and justice were the formula there.
The smell that wafted out of the thing was blasphemous. Gagging, I grabbed a stuffed bunny from one of the shelves and held it over my nose and mouth. Returning my attention to the hellhole, I set to work pulling the bag out. I cut it with a pocketknife and tied it off, holding the full bag of dirty nappies aloft.
“Oh, for the love of Mary, throw that thing out!” Mick hollered as he passed the nursery.
Both Kieran and Eoghan had their noses covered. When I approached them with the bomb, they turned on their heels and scampered from the room. I followed, heading toward the kitchen pantry with the vacuum-sealed bin. The nanny—one of Michael Sweeney’s daughters—took the bag from me with a silent smile. Clearly, she thought my punishment was comical.
“How was your timeout?” Mick asked, the three men joining me in the kitchen when the smell had left the room.
“Jesus, does everyone know?” I asked. Shannon was one thing, but my men would never let me live it down.
“Emma’s been on a roll this week,” Kieran said. “A couple days ago, she clocked Peter McKenzie in the mouth after he disrespected you.”
I set the plush bunny on the counter, giving my brother a double take. “Say that again?”
“And yesterday morning she put your father in a chicken-wing hold,” Mick added, grinning at the memory. “Dropped his ass to the ground without so much as blinking.”
“She…” I faltered, turning to Eoghan. “Anything you’d like to add about what Emma’s been up to?”
Eoghan shrugged, grabbing an apple from a crystal bowl on the counter. “I think they covered it.”
Mick snorted. “Eoghan took Emma to the shooting range to practice with your revolver. It recoiled and hit her in the forehead. I stitched her up, though.”
I held the bridge of my nose between two fingers, almost breaking it with the force. Emma had punched Peter McKenzie, she’d gotten into a scuff with Frank then injured herself at the Emerald shooting range. How was it possible for my men to be so incompetent with Emma’s safety? She was a tiny thing, for God’s sake!
“Did you say stitches?” I asked Mick, but my fiery gaze was fixed on Eoghan. “Why the fuck weren’t you watching her more closely?”
He looked contrite at having failed Wing Duty. “I’m sorry, boss. I didn’t expect her to shoot with one hand. When I asked her why she chose that stance, she said—get this—’that’s how cowboys do it’.”
Mick and Kieran snickered, but I didn’t find humor in the situation. Emma could’ve been hurt far worse. What the hell had Eoghan been thinking, taking her to our shooting range and not even giving her a demonstration before handing her a gun? Christ Almighty.
“Guys, get in here!”
Shannon’s voice had the hair on the nape of my neck standing on end. We all dropped our discussion—Eoghan flinging his apple core into the sink—and ran to the living room.
My gaze immediately found Emma, but she was fixated on the television. It had been turned on and the volume was at a maximum level. I pondered the side of her face as she stared in terror at the screen. It took me a moment to hear what the reporter was saying.
