Take It On The Run

Chapter 61

POV: Sloan

Liam had been uncharacteristically introspective after the phone call with Red, deep in his own thoughts throughout the drive. Whatever was bugging him, I knew it was serious because he made me sit in my own seat for once, although he still kept a possessive arm tucked around my waist.

I hated seeing him like this. Worried. I had witnessed that emotion from him on more than one occasion this week. Nearly every occasion, now that I thought about it. It made me want to distract him.

My hand cupped the back of his neck, tugging his head down until I was able to plant a big sloppy kiss on that talented mouth.

A smile pulled at my lips at his startled groan. I was a little proud of myself for that because it was hard to get the jump on a man like Liam.

"What was that for?"

"Do I need a reason to smooch my betrothed?" I hedged.

"No. You don't. You never have to explain yourself to me. Just don't stop."

Now that I had his undivided attention, I decided to kill some time with conversation. "So how did your father get involved with my grandfather?"

"That's incredibly random." There was still smokey heat in those bemused citrines, as though he were reluctant to change the subject.

I didn't deny it. "Yup."

It wasn't that random, though. We were literally en route to take a stroll down memory lane—to the sight where the fabric of our fates had become interwoven. But I didn't feel like justifying myself.

"What do you know of the Troubles?" Apparently, it was Liam's turn to be incredibly random.

"Weirdest foreplay ever but okay," I muttered.

"Be serious, macushla. This is my country's 9/11."

I knew the Troubles referred to the violent civil war between Catholics and Protestants over British-ruled Northern Ireland. The Irish Republican Army tried to unite Ireland by force, and after three decades of guerrilla warfare and thousands of casualties, their efforts were successful.

"I've served enough Irish Car Bombs in my lifetime to know my shit," I replied—which, sadly, was precisely how I knew that bit of imperialist history. "But what does that have to do with our families coalescing?"

He studied me somberly for a long moment before finally answering. "My da was a bomber for the IRA."

Wait. What?

Well, that was low-key terrifying. He said it so casually too, like his father hadn't mass murdered a bunch of innocent people.

I didn't want to label his father a terrorist aloud since it was still such a controversial issue in Ireland. But I was certainly thinking it.

"I see," I said neutrally.

It was interesting background info, especially since I still didn't have a smartphone to look up any of this shit, but it also felt tangential. What did this have to do with our families?

As if he read my mind, Liam filled in the gaps. "The IRA also has strong ties to organized crime. My da's involvement is how he came to work for Cillian's cartel. You see, a great deal of the carnage was funded by Cillian, who kept the authorities too preoccupied with the attacks to notice his dealings."

Ah, so my grandfather was a big time terrorist. That explained a lot actually.

"And that's how you came to be involved with The Collectors? The Troubles?"