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“I-I met Grant six months ago,” she whispers, sounding stricken. “He was handsome and kind and said he didn’t care that I was a stripper. He t-told me that he was impressed I would do whatever it took to make sure my kids had a good life. I believed him.”
Carmen swallows again, looking like she’s trying not to vomit. “Things moved quickly. We moved in together quickly. He was wonderful. Doted on the kids. Then….”
She hesitates, taking a shuddering breath. My eyes dart to her children, sitting on either side of Liam, watching YouTube cartoons on his phone.
Carmen takes another breath, drawing my attention back to her. “Then cracks started to appear. Flashes of darkness. He started to get abusive. He seemed weirdly fixated on Fiona, and it didn’t take long for me to figure out that they were related. That she was his sister. He used a fake last name. He told me he was Grant Colby. I had no idea.”
She moans softly, eyes fluttering closed as tears leak beneath her eyelids. “Grant said they’d fought, and she wouldn’t take his calls, so he didn’t know how to apologize to her. He asked me to take a note to her but leave it anonymously. He said she wouldn't read it if she knew it was from him. I-I didn’t know what was in the envelope.”
The crushed peppers.
“When Fiona got hurt, I refused to take any more notes. B-but he threatened to hurt m-my kids.”
Carmen’s voice cracks, and she hunches over, her eyes darting over to her children to assure herself they are still there. Still safe.
“So I brought more notes,” she admits softly, sounding ashamed. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You could have come to us,” Seamus tells her, his voice dangerously low. “If you had come to us after Fiona was hurt, told the truth, Grant might not have set fire to that building.”
Carmen flinches. I guess the truth hurts. Whimpering, she nods, her eyes darting over her kids again.
“Are y-you going to k-kill me?” she whispers, terror bleeding into her tone. “Please don’t h-hurt my children.”
“We don’t hurt children,” Seamus sneers, causing Carmen to flinch at the ice in his tone. “And we’re not going to kill you. Paddy and Connor are going to take you and your kids home. You’re going to pack your things, and you’re going to leave Boston. Tonight.”
Carmen’s eyes flit up to Seamus’s face, relief shining as she nods earnestly.
“But Carmen,” Seamus’s tone is deadly, “if we ever catch you in this city again, even for a second, you won’t be leaving alive. Do you understand?”
Carmen flinches, swallows, and nods. “I understand.”
Seamus flicks his fingers at Paddy and Connor, who nod in unison, moving to usher Carmen and her kids out of the room. Once the door closes behind them, I sink into Carmen's vacated chair.
Seamus drums the fingers of one hand against the arm of his leather chair. The fingers of his other hand brush over his chin as he stares thoughtfully at the door.
“Do you know how much time and trouble it would save if people told us the fucking truth straight up?” Seamus sighs. I glance over at him in surprise as he shakes his head. “Lauren, Fiona, Carmen… They all came to us for protection but couldn’t be fucking arsed to tell us what they needed protection from. Instead, we had to chase our tails to figure it the fuck out. Women. Making my life harder than it needs to be.”
Seamus sighs, turning his eyes to me. “You go home. I already sent Liam there. But she’ll want to hear from you that she’s safe.”
I nod to him, shoving out of the chair. I freeze, my hand on the doorknob when he speaks again.
“Is there something you’re forgetting to ask me?” Seamus calls over. I look over my shoulder in surprise. “Or tell me?”
I wrack my brain, but I can’t think what he might mean. Seamus smirks, holding up his left hand and shaking it. My eyes catch the flash there as his wedding ring catches the light. Oh. Right. That.
“I suppose you’ll take a leaf out of Niall’s book?” Seamus suggests. I shrug at him.
“I hadn’t thought about how we’d do it, to be honest.”
“It sounds like you’ve thought about doing it.”
“Aye. I’ve thought about it.”
He steeples his hands in front of his chin, watching me carefully.
“Do I have yer permission then, Fitzy?”
He sighs, waving his hand at me. “Like not having it would make a lick of difference. I like Fiona. Tiggy loves her. Pretty sure Cillian does too. You have my blessing.”
