Chapter 38

Laine

"Ican't get over how lovely the countryside is out here," I say, my gaze locked on the rolling green hills covered in purple flowers and dotted with little lakes. "It makes me wonder why my grandparents would ever move from here to Chicago. It seems crazy to me."

Tag squeezes my hand where it rests on the wide console between our two seats. "There are a lot of reasons people move away. I expect your mam's parents saw the draw of innovation and opportunity in North America. It's not uncommon."

"But look how beautiful it is here."

He nods. "Aye, it is, but this is the time of year when things bloom, and it's easy to remember why Ireland is called the Emerald Isle. The same can't be said for all the other months."

"I find that hard to believe, but I suppose I'll find out firsthand because I have no intention of leaving Ireland anytime soon."

He squeezes my hand. "And in that vein, may I ask you a question or two without upsetting you on your family day?"

I turn sideways in my seat. "Of course. What would you like to know?"

"Well, I was thinking about what Marco said about the mob family in Chicago considering you a loose end."

"The Tessiano family. Yeah, I'm not sure what to do about that. I wasn't privy to what Milton and Marco were up to with them. They believed women are too delicate to handle the intricacies of organized crime."

Tag laughs. "Some of the most ruthless family leaders I know are women. Hell, even Mattie McGuire's wife, Samantha, is smarter and meaner than any of the McGuire men."

"How much of the uprisings against your family do you think comes from Mattie versus his wife?"

He slows the truck down to make a right turn onto another country route. "I'd guess it's all Mattie. Samantha's too smart to stir up trouble on the hunch that we're weak. She's very business minded."

"And because of her husband and her dumbass sons, they've missed several shipments of women, lost two dozen men, and look bad in front of the other families."

Tag grins. "And that brings me back to the Tessiano family in Chicago. If Marco told them he knew where you were, they might send more men to take you down. I want to get ahead of that."

I'm washed with a rush of vertigo as the air around me heats up. "I never even thought of that. With Marco dead, in my mind, it was over."

He casts a sideways glance and winks. "I'll figure it out, but that's why I was asking about your involvement. Knowledge is power and I don't know anything about the Tessianos. If I did, perhaps I could work something out with them."

I wrack my brain, thinking of anything that could help, but come up empty. "Do you think Finn can dig up dirt on them?"

Tag makes a face. "I'd rather not poke around in their business when I may need to show my good faith. No. I'm hoping that even if you didn't know something was valuable, maybe you picked up on a few gems we might use."

I brush my fingers over the three little shamrocks engraved below the lid of my mom's urn and it hits me. "Wait! I do have something. I don't know what, but last year when Mom died and things were getting bad with Marco and his dad, I did something."

"What did you do?"

"I snuck into Milton's office and made a copy of all his files to a thumb drive."

Tag's ebony brows arch. "And where would this thumb drive be now?"

I pat the urn in my lap. "Mom's been watching over it. Like I said, it was right when she passed, and the funeral home asked if there was anything sentimental I wanted to put in with Mom."

Tag glances down at my lap and grins. "My god, I love the way your mind works. That might be just what we need, luv. Well done."

I shrug. "It wasn't intentional. In fact, I never thought of it again. It was just meant as a safety net in case anything ever happened."

Tag lifts my hand to his lips. "It'll be perfect. I know it will."

A dozen of us gather at the top of the velvety green hills of Cornagower East. It overlooks the stretch of beach and sand dunes that the area is famous for and, according to Finley, was one of mom's favorite places to hang out as a teen.

I can see why.

The beauty of this stretch of coastline is undeniable, and the salty breeze carries a mix of sorrow and relief.

The other option was Jack's Hole, north of the beach. Apparently, a 17th century smuggler and pirate, Captain Jack White, operated from a secluded cove here. He intercepted goods from British merchant ships and imported goods from France to the annoyance of Crown authorities who were thus deprived of customs revenue.

While I thought that was fun, I wasn't sure that was the tone I wanted for my final farewell for my mom after returning her home.

Standing here, with the waves crashing rhythmically against the coast below, I'm soothed by the backdrop to our quiet reflections.

Auntie Maeve wraps an arm around my shoulders as we watch the last of the ashes disappear into the sea. "This was lovely, dear. I'm sure your mam is looking down on us, smiling from ear to ear."

"I hope so."

Over the next little while, Maeve shares stories of childhood adventures with my mom, and Finley, my mother's childhood boyfriend, adds his own tales. Throughout the stories, his eyes twinkle with fond memories and we all laugh despite the somber tone of the day.

When all is said and done, we turn away from the cliff and shift from the solemnity of our service to a celebration of life, as Mom would have wanted.

Tag and I slide back into the truck to return to town, and I press the USB key into Tag's palm. "Hopefully it will help."

He kisses the tip of my nose. "I'm sure it will."

We drive in a small convoy back to town and park outside the local pub. It's a quaint place filled with rustic charm, and we gather a few more relatives for the private reception.

"Here's to you, Mom. Welcome home." I hold up my beer and everyone around the room does the same.

As the afternoon unfolds, the pub's cozy ambiance helps lift everyone's spirits and we indulge in hearty Irish fare.

"Are you totally bored?" I ask Tag a long while later. "I don't like seeing you hide in the corner."

He winks at me and bends down to brush his lips over the shell of my ear. "I'm happy to watch you from the shadows. And believe it or not, it's been nice. I rarely get time alone with my thoughts and today I've thought a lot about my parents."

I ease back and search his emerald gaze. "Are you doing okay?"

He dips his chin. "Better than I have been in months. Now, get back to your guests and enjoy your family. The two of us can chat anytime and anywhere. This is their day."

I'm lost in the tenderness that swirls behind his gaze and claim his lips for a chaste kiss. "I love you, Tag Quinn."

Surprise is quickly replaced by hunger in his gaze as he leans down to kiss me back. "Only half as much as I love you."

The clinking of glasses breaks up our private moment and Tag gives my butt a naughty smack to send me back to the others.

"So, that is the infamous Dublin Rogue," Allison says, holding her pint in front of her mouth to hide her comment. "He's even hotter in person than he is in the media."

Geraldine grins. "Is he as hot in private as he seems? I bet he's one helluva lover, am I right? He's got all the right moves, doesn't he?"

A flush of heat rises to my cheeks as I think of Tag behind closed doors—his strength, his complexity, and the unexpected tenderness he's shown me. "All the moves and more, ladies."

Allison groans. "I knew it. What about his brothers? Are any of them single?"

I laugh. "Patrick will chain you girls up and disown me if I ever set you up with the brothers. He's already out of his mind because I'm with Tag."

"Patrick is a worrier," Geraldine says.

"And he's not the boss of us," Allison adds.

And while I'm all for women living their own lives, I'm not sure my sweet, country cousins would survive the realities of loving a Quinn.

I meet Tag's gaze across the room and bite my bottom lip. The heat in his gaze is still burning and I know we won't get five miles down the road before he'll be pulling over to get inside me.

What possessed me to tell him I love him for the first time here, when we're both stuck being proper and the center of attention?

I send him a sultry smile and pull out my phone:

You need to stop eye-fucking me or I'm going to embarrass us both.

A moment later, Tag's response pings back:

If it weren't for the disapproval of your family, I'd be fucking you on the billiards table right now and wouldn't be embarrassed at all.

I get my thumbs moving:

Time to wrap things up. I'm going to combust.

He arches a brow at me and my phone pings:

Get ready to be thoroughly fucked.