BONUS EPILOGUE
SHANE
I floated on my back, staring up at the vaulted glass ceiling over the most beautiful pool house in the state of Idaho. Like the rest of my prison, it’d been built in the 1920s by my great-grandfather Keiran McDonogh—a monument to his wife. She’d never liked the place, or Keiran himself, for that matter. Just one of many McDonogh brides who loathed their husbands over the past hundred years, setting an example I supposed my own wife would follow one day.
Assuming I lived long enough to marry, that was.
Big assumption.
Hopefully after tonight my odds would be improving. My best friend and personal bodyguard, Rourke Malloy, was meeting with representatives from the Silver Bastard motorcycle club right now. With any luck, my stepfather—Jamie Callaghan—was dead already. I’d grown too cynical over the past four years to feel any real hope, but I guess this was the next best thing.
His death wouldn’t solve all my problems, of course. My own mother had tried to poison me once this week already. The only thing saving my ass was the fact she couldn’t risk actually killing me, which complicated the whole process. A permanent vegetative state would suit her purposes perfectly, though.
All because I’d been “lucky” enough to inherit the Laughing Tess silver mine. Now there was a fucking joke. Tess must be laughing at me specifically, because here I was, trapped in a luxurious prison just like my great-grandmother. Of course, she never had a court-ordered monitor strapped to her ankle. Lucky bitch.
Issues of personal dignity aside, that fucker chafed like hell.
The sound of a door slamming echoed through the vast chamber, and I righted myself. Roarke was back. He stood on the deck staring down at me and I could tell already that he didn’t have good news.
Fuck.
I started swimming toward him, enjoying the stretch and pull of my muscles in the water. The pool was the only thing to like about this hellhole. If I somehow survived intact and took over the McDonogh Corporation in six months, the first thing I planned to do was evict the tenants and blow the place up.
Reaching the edge, I boosted myself up onto the deck. Water ran down my back as I walked over to Rourke, who handed me a towel. I wiped off my face, then looked at him.
“Jamie’s not dead, is he?”
Rourke shrugged. “Not like we really expected it to work. According to Boonie, he’s got some serious fucking leverage. If it’s true.”
I frowned.
“What kind of leverage?”
My best friend narrowed his eyes, studying me almost like he’d never seen me before. Then he shook his head.
“It’s bad shit, Shane.”
“Do we know what it is?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“You aren’t actually related to Seamus McDonogh. Callaghan did a DNA test on your mom—I got no idea whose kid she was, but she wasn’t his. That gets out, you’ll lose everything.”
“Holy fucking shit,” I whispered. Blood roared in my head, because this was something I’d not even started to imagine. “Grandma was fucking around on him?”
“Apparently,” Rourke said. “The minute you kill Jamie, it’ll blow sky high. He’s only sitting on it because he’s still hoping to use Christine to take over.”
I looked away, trying to process what he’d just told me.
“Do we know he’s telling the truth?”
“Only one way to find out,” he replied. “You really wanna risk proving you aren’t a real McDonogh? Hell, if I were you, I’d look into exhuming the whole damned family tree and cremating them.”
Fuck. He was right. I had just opened my mouth to answer when a loud clopping sounded echoed through the entire chamber. Spinning around, I dropped into a defensive crouch. Next to me Rourke had done the same—it’d been a long time since we’d had to literally fight for our lives, but we kept our skills sharp.
I looked around, searching for whoever was in here. A spy? Jesus, this was the kind of secret men would kill to protect. Men like me.
“Come out,” I said, keeping my tone conversational. Almost friendly. “We can talk about whatever you just heard, but we won’t leave until we find you. Could be a long night, and the longer I wait the less patient I’ll be feeling.”
No response, but I thought I heard someone’s breath catch. Good, they were smart enough to be afraid. I could use fear. Rourke and I shared a glance, communicating without words. He backed toward the door, blocking the entrance as I started circling around the pool. The sound had come from this side.
There was only one exit unless our spy was strong enough to shift the heavy sliding service bay doors on the far end. Unlikely, given the fact they weighed a couple hundred pounds each and had probably rusted shut by now.
I followed the line of bright blue and gold tiles circling the deck toward the bins of aquatic equipment—foam “weights” and other shit they used for the water aerobics classes. It was the most likely hiding space. I’d almost reached them when I heard the slam of the main door opening. I turned to see a girl walk in wearing a two-piece swimsuit that my grandma would’ve found too modest.
She stared at me, looking absolutely terrified.
I recognized her. Lola. Lola Sanders. She was one of the few students here without a court order, probably because her parents couldn’t be bothered to do anything else with her.
Rourke slid into place behind her, closing the door with a loud click.
She gasped and spun around, all but shaking in terror. I’d never seen her any other way, actually. Lola was one of those ghostly girls who lived on the edges of our reality. She hid in her room, did all her classes online and I had no fucking idea how she managed to eat, because I never saw her in the dining room.