Page 44 of Bound Lies

“Have you tried calling Cormac’s burner?”

“Straight to voicemail.”

I ball my hand into a fist and send it slamming into one of the rusted metal panels.

Brennan doesn’t even wince, but then again, he’s had almost three decades of experience with my temper.

My knuckles scream, but I ignore it as I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial Ronan.

“I don’t have time to talk about Riley⁠—”

“Where the fuck is Cormac?”

“He’s…busy.”

“That’s not an answer.”

There’s a pause, and I glance at Brennan, but my youngest brother is standing with his eyes closed and his face tilted toward the sun.

“He was meant to be here. But instead, he’s left Finn’s interrogations up to me and a fucking Ken doll.”

“Hey!” Brennan snaps.

“Where Cormac is isn’t any of your concern, Kieran,” Ronan says firmly.

“Pretty sure it is, brother.”

“Not unless I say so, and this time, I’m saying keep your nose out of things that don’t concern you.”

Ronan can try to hide it all he wants, but I know him too well. I can hear the tightness in his voice he gets when he’s lying through his teeth.

“You know something.”

“Kieran, not now.”

“When, then?”

“Later.”

I grind my teeth, but before I can say anything else, the line goes dead. I let out a string of curses, and Brennan cocks an eyebrow as he catches my eye.

“Well?”

“Something’s going on.” I pace back and forth, kicking at the gravel beneath my feet. “Ronan’s covering for Cormac, and I don’t know why.”

Brennan pushes off the wall. “Don’t drag me into that. I’m not getting caught in the middle of this.”

“He’s our brother; it’s inevitable that you will.”

We fall into step beside one another as we head around the side of the warehouse to where our cars are waiting for us.

“Well, not today, I won’t. I need to head to a meeting at The Blackthorn.”

“If you see Cormac, tell him I want to talk.”

Brennan climbs behind the wheel of his car. He waves a hand before speeding away, kicking up a cloud of dust behind him.

It’s nearly seven by the time I pull into my private parking garage. I kill the engine and sit in silence for a minute, my knuckles still aching from earlier. A bruise is already starting to blossom beneath the skin, and I silently curse myself for losing my temper. But it seems no matter how hard I try to rein it in, it always seems to get the better of me.