Page 64 of A Stitch Up


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“News just in. It has been confirmed that the unionist leader, Harry Evans, has been found dead near Newry. We are told he was trying to cross the border, and the Irish republicans caught up with him. The war between the two sides has been going on for years. Mr. Evans was responsible for numerous Catholic deaths over the years, gun smuggling, drug dealing, and the robbery of a northern bank. We are hopeful that this might bring peace to Northern Ireland. According to sources, people in Northern Ireland want peace. They all want to live a life without fear because of their religious beliefs. Only time will tell. In other news…”

Jones turns the TV off. I am in shock. Harry Evans is meant to be my dad but is now dead. Who killed him? Did his past finally catch up with him? Did I ever want to speak with him? Maybe it’s for the best. I never knew him. And I did just wish for him to be taken out.

“I need to call my mam and see if she is ok.” I start to feel around for my phone, when Jones puts it in my good hand.

“Your mam is on a flight to Spain. She is and will be looked after. You can visit her anytime, and she will call when she lands.”

“How do you know this? What am I missing? What am I not being told?”

I growl. This is my mam. Why wouldn’t she tell me? Why would she move to Spain without speaking to me?

“Sophie, I made it happen. This is all me. Cahill knows nothing. Harry was not a good man, and I don’t believe his interests to meet you were for good either. He has always been in power, and as his daughter, you might have been able to help him now you are linked with the mob. I couldn’t and wouldn’t sit back and watch that happen. Back to your mother. If she had stayed here, the republicans would have gone after her, this way she is safe. I promise. And she knew this day would come. It has always been in the works, it was just sooner than she thought, but she is happy to be out of your father’s control. Please trust me.”

What a fucking day. I find out mydadcame to my open night to talk with me. I wished he was killed, then my wish comes true. My head hurts and I’m still not one hundred percent sure what is wrong with me. I just want to go to sleep and wake up to find this has been a horrible nightmare.

“I trust you, Jones. But I’m just so exhausted. I am going to get more sleep.”

I turn my head away. I honestly don’t know what to think anymore. I am grateful Jones told me the truth, but I don’t know if I wanted it. I believe Harry wasn’t a good man, and he did deserve death. But would I have wanted to get to know him in a few years? If I answer honestly, I don’t think I would ever want to know him, but I liked having the option, or maybe I wanted to be the one who pulled the trigger.

When I wake a few hours later I am in Cahill’s arms. He is walking with me somewhere. It looks like his house, but I don’t want to get my hopes up too soon.

“Cahill—are?”

“You can say it. It’s not a dream. We are home, and I am taking you to bed,” he says it so seriously, it turns me on a little.

“I need a shower or bath before we get down and…”

“No, Sophie.” He laughs at me.

“I would love to take you to bed and worship every part of you and remind you who you belong too. But you are going to bed to rest. You need more healing time. Jones told me you weren’t comfy in the hospital, so I brought you home, and the doctor will visit every day until he sees you are fit.” Cahill smiles down at me while laying me to rest on the bed.

“Can I ask…” He nods at me to continue.

“What are my injures? You keep saying I need to heal, but no one will let me see a mirror. Am I that bad? Do I look that hideous?”

My insecurities are crawling out. I am trying to keep them at bay, especially after he tells me he wants to worship me, but I can’t help over thinking I must be so ugly he will only stay out of pity.

“Sophie, you are the most beautiful woman in the world. I am one lucky bastard to get to call you mine. Jonathon didn’t damage your beauty on the outside or inside. He did break a few ribs of yours, your brain swelled, but it is down now and back to normal. You have a broken arm and leg, as you can see. Two stab wounds on your thighs, doctor is hopeful they will be small scars when healed. You have a small stab wound on your left side, no one will ever see that, only me. He pulled a tooth out, but it’s at the back and I don’t know if you want to get it replaced sometime. Lastly, he chopped off your little finger on your right hand. I am so sorry I couldn’t get to you sooner. Your face is a little bruised and swollen still. I wouldn’t let anyone give you a mirror because I was trying to protect you, but I can get you a mirror if you wish, doll.”

I can see the exhaustion in Cahill. I can see he is beating himself up about this. This was all my father's fault, and I am glad Jones dealt with him, it’s our little secret.

“I have to tell you something, Sophie. Your father was found dead. I had nothing to do with it and I am raging someone caught up with him before I did, but I am sorry you never had the chance to meet him and make that choice for yourself.” Cahill lets out a breath, as if it was a relief to unburden himself.

“I know. Jones and I saw it on the news. It is always a risk that your past might catch you when you do shady stuff.” I smile, taking a slight dig at Cahill too. I might be able to remind him there is more to this life than dodgy deals and selling illegal crap.

“You are honestly a saint, doll. Now kiss me.” Cahill growls at me. It has been over two weeks since I have felt his lips on mine, and I am not waiting another second. This is the best feeling ever. Cahill is kissing me like I might break, but I don’t mind. It makes me feel loved and special. To feel those things by a guy like him, I am one lucky lady. We are still kissing when his phones rings.

“I need to get this, sorry, doll.”

I expect him to leave, but he stays beside me while stroking my face and looking into my eyes.

“Yes, she is here. Ok… I will ask.”

I wonder what is going on. Cahill looks so serious.

“Doll, your mother is on the line. Would you like to talk to her?”

“Has she arrived in Spain safely?” I ask.

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