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I cut myself off as I realized Dunn stood directly behind Keane with a dark expression on his face.
“Kenneth,” said Keane with an introductory bow.
“You’re Kenneth Pearce?” Dunn said softly.
“Well, now everyone knows, thanks,” Keane said, turning to Dunn.
“They said you were dead,” said Dunn, his voice wavering.
“I’m not surprised that’s the story they told,” said Keane. “Imagine the scandal of the First Immortal’s son rebelling.”
Dunn’s brows twitched and his nostrils flared. He opened his mouth, then closed it again and took a long breath before speaking again. “You murderous bastard.”
“Strong words for a noble,” said Keane, his face showing no real fear despite the fire in Dunn’s eyes. “I defended myself and my men against that godforsaken weapon your friend was blasting all over the place. I’m sure you would’ve done the same.”
“I’m not talking about them!” Dunn stepped closer, his face contorted with searing hatred. “You killed my mother.”
Chapter
Eight
Keane stared back at Dunn.“What the bloody hell are you talkin’ about?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know,” Dunn spoke through his clenched jaw. He’d never struck me as remotely intimidating—not until now. But the way he looked at Keane with pure revulsion, like he’d despised him every day of his life even before they met, held an unexpected power.
Keane’s brows furrowed. “I won’t say no one’s died at my hand, but I’ve never killed anyone’s mother, that’s for damn sure.”
I looked back and forth between the two men, the tension between them spilling out onto the entire deck, making everyone stop and watch with bated breath.
“Just yourwife,” said Dunn.
“What? Is that what they—” All Keane’s swagger dissolved, leaving him wide-eyed as he studied Dunn’s face with a new interest. “You’re Dominic.”
Dunn’s hands shook and his chest rose in a panicked breath, but he nodded slowly.
I covered my mouth in disbelief. Could this Enforcer really be?—
“My son.” Keane’s eyes gleamed. “I never thought I’d see you again.”
“And I never wanted to see you,” Dunn growled. “You deserved to die as Sir Pearce said you did.”
“What exactly did Pearce tell you?” asked Keane.
Dunn’s loathing practically shot from his eyes. Suddenly, he charged, smashing into his long-lost and long-hated father.
Keane yelped as they both rolled to the deck.
Dunn hit him square in the face, Keane’s nose spouting blood from the impact. Dunn stretched his hands, his knuckles bloody, then stood and backed away.
Keane didn’t hit back. He only looked up at his son with pained eyes, but I suspected it wasn’t from the injury alone.
I studied Dunn, wondering if I should do something, but without knowing which one of them was right—and which was lying—I didn’t dare interfere.
Cait watched the scene with curiosity, her distrustful gaze directed at Dunn.
Vaughn dashed over from the helm, finally catching wind of the conflict. He headed for Dunn.
“Stop!” Keane pushed himself to his feet and pulled off his shirt, holding it to his bleeding nose. Bright blood spattered the deck beneath him. “He’s . . . my son.”
