Darragh woke up to the sound of the shower running. Rolling over to his right side, he stretched his arm out expecting it to drape over Catherine. Instead, all he felt was the warmth of the empty space she had occupied during the night. Sitting up and resting his back against the wall, Darragh rubbed the sleep from his sore eyes. He looked around the room, noticing her shoes, bag, and clothes were still on the floor. It didn't take him long to realize it was Catherine who was in the shower. Tossing the cheap, blue spruce comforter off, he jumped out of bed and ditched his boxers with the shameless intention to join her.

Standing under the hot spray, Catherine reached for the bottle of generic 2-in-1 sitting on the ledge atop the shower door. She popped the cap and got a whiff of the spicy, clean scent, which she recognized in belonging to Darragh. Squirting the gel into the palm of her hand, Catherine closed her eyes as she worked it into a lather in her hair. She had been so relaxed from the previous night's sleep and the magical wonders of hot water, that she didn't even sense when an intruder snuck into the shower stall. Only when she felt rough fingertips brush along the slick flesh of her hipbone did she jump. Darragh busted out into a fit of laughter at the audible yelp that had escaped Catherine. He hadn't expected to scare her as much as he had.

"Ye are such an asshole," she snickered.

Darragh willingly accepted the small pinch-and-twist Catherine gave his nipple. His laughter began to die down as he focused on her rinsing the shampoo from her hair. It was the first time he was seeing her naked and she was just as dazzling as he anticipated. Keeping his eyes from traveling any further south of her neck was a failed mission. As the soapy foam cascaded down her ivory skin, Darragh followed the trails. Catherine didn't notice his open-mouthed stare or obvious arousal.

Keeping his hands to himself over the course of the night had been challenging. In the small quarters of his full-sized bed, skin-to-skin contact was unavoidable. When Darragh woke up at one point in the middle of the night with Catherine's ass grinding into his cock, he turned over to keep from prodding her with his hard-on.

He had fallen for this woman who was so much more than beautiful. In Darragh's eyes, Catherine was as smart as a whip, funny. The bravery she possessed outmatched some of the hardest men he had come across while in prison. He couldn't deny the fact that her past was hideous, yet her willingness to never look back only made him want to be part of her bright future even more. She was lionhearted, just as he was. Last night it felt like a punch to the gut for Darragh when she said she didn't deserve him because of the mistakes she made. He felt it was the other way around.

She looked up and noticed he was looking at her. His expression was intense, there was the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. As they stared at each other under the pouring warm water, she couldn't take it anymore. She wanted so much more than just the stolen glances and the brushes of hands, and the constant flirting. Catherine had never wanted him as badly as she did at that moment. To feel the fire from his hands and mouth, the electricity of the delicious rush that she had only read about in books. Her fingers hankered to run through his hair. Darragh was her salvation—she wanted to pull him in and never let him go.

"Kiss me." he croaked, and that was all Catherine needed to hear. For far too long, she had been slowly dying and he was the medicine she had been searching for. She finally felt alive, stronger, and genuinely happy. Being wrapped in his strong arms showed her where exactly home truly was.

He had been starving to taste Catherine's honeyed tongue once again. Her skin was soft and silken, just as he remembered. She made delicate sounds as he explored her mouth and he was in no rush. As she slid her fingers into his wet hair, Darragh placed his hands on her ribcage, backing her up against the tiled wall.

The world around him suddenly faded away. This was the first time Darragh had ever become so utterly lost in a kiss. His heart began to skip beats and he couldn't bring her close enough to him. It was a kiss that burned him alive.

They weren't sure just how long the kiss had lasted—two minutes, two hours. The only thing they did know was that it was time to stop resisting fate. Six long years had already been wasted. It was time to start making up for everything they had lost.

"The things I'd do ta ya if ye were mine." Darragh caressed her cheek with his hand, sliding his fingers into her hair.

Her eyes fluttered shut and she leaned her head into his hand. "Take me."

"Is that what ya really want?"

"That's all I've ever wanted."

Reaching to shut off the water, Darragh then opened the sliding glass door. Grabbing Catherine's hand, he led her back to his bedroom.

Pushing her down onto his bed, he climbed over her and held her wrists down to the mattress. He leaned down, kissing her fiercely. Desperate for him, Catherine slung one of her legs along his lower back, lifting and rolling her hips to meet his.

Their tongues continued to entwine, but it wasn't the fight for control she had been so accustomed to. He was gentle, tender.

Darragh entered her, sliding deeper until they were fully joined. Catherine arched her back, unable to control the moan that vibrated her throat. He fucked her—not fast but drove each thrust hard into her. She struggled to free her wrists from his hold, frantic to touch him. So, he released them and interlocked their fingers.

Catherine could feel herself letting go, becoming focused only on the moment. Time slowed. The pressure of his hands squeezing hers and the sensation of his cock filling her were the only things that mattered.

She was wet and ready—her velvet heat nearly shut his brain down. Darragh tormented both of them with his deliberate slowness. It was worth it just to hear every moan drip from Catherine's mouth. She begged, swore, gasped. With every note she made, he fucked her harder.

Enjoying the teasing agony of the unhurried journey, Catherine buried her face into the curve of his neck. Her tongue darted out, licking the length of his throat and tasting the saltiness of his skin. It aroused him even more as the syllabus of his name were mixed with hedonistic enchantment. Her orgasm came crashing down on her. It was a screaming, clawing, crying, leg quaking wave.

When it hit, Darragh's climax was a bellowing rush that overwhelmed Catherine in all the right ways. He pushed her deeper into the bed, before collapsing bonelessly on top of her. She instantly wrapped her arms around him as he rested his head on her chest. The loud, quick beats of her heart were music to Darragh as he caught his breath.

Catherine entangled their legs, her fingers running through his damp tresses. As she held Darragh against her flushed, sweaty body, she was thankful he couldn't see her face. Tears collected in Catherine's lashes.

Regret swelled her. It wasn't regret over having done what she did, it was regret for having waited this long to let her guard down with him. He had been right in front of her and she ignorantly chose to cast him aside. Catherine had preferred to play it safe with Jimmy. She was afraid to allow herself to feel the dangerous love because Darragh's life was so similar to hers. Falling in love with an IRA man meant long prison terms, and too often death. It was a cruel realization that every other man would pale in comparison to the one with his head peacefully resting on her chest. He started a fire within Catherine that would never die. Every part of her was now awakened. No love would ever come close to how alive he made her feel.

Last night Catherine had spilled her soul to him. She finally admitted to how devastated she had been when he left her without so much as a goodbye. And how it was the cataclysm of her attack and his arrest, that sent her straight into Jimmy's arms. Darragh ran his hands over Catherine's past, lingering over the dents and jagged edges. He promised she'd never fight another battle alone.


Wriggling into her Levi's, Darragh watched Catherine from the bed. One hand was tucked under his head and a cigarette hung from the corner of his mouth. He was captivated by her. As much as he wanted to keep her naked and in his bed for the rest of the day, as her officer commanding he understood she had work to do.

"What do ya say we meet at the safe house in Newry at half-ten tonight?" Darragh asked, dropping the cigarette into an empty soda can.

His housemates would be in for the night, giving him absolutely no privacy to discuss Catherine's surveillance report. As she pulled her t-shirt over her head, Catherine thought about it. The drive to Newry didn't excite her much, but she did have another plan. Strolling over to the bed, Catherine straddled Darragh's lap. She ran her hand along his bare chest, tangling her fingers in the white gold chain around his neck. His hands caressed her denim-clad thighs. This was a position he couldn't wait to get her in.

"Why don't ye come ta mine? I'm sure ye haven't had a home cooked meal in a while, an' I'll even do yer laundry. My Da'll be there and he can give his insights on what the next plan of action should be with Carrigan."

It was too tempting of an offer to pass up. The only time he had a meal that didn't come from a takeaway container was when he was in Dundalk and one of the other lads was cooking. Darragh knew well enough that Catherine volunteering her services to do his wash was only on the table in order to lure him in.

With Patrick there, he'd have to behave and keep his hand to himself. Easy enough, Darragh thought. Considering he had for years already.

He noticed how she had kept her head hung low, her eyes avoiding him. Catherine didn't want him to see the pleading look in her eye.

"I'd love ta do that." And, it wasn't just the promise of good food and clean clothes that influenced his decision. Darragh genuinely wanted to spend a—slightly—domestic night with Catherine. Hearing his positive answer instantly made her perk up. He had never seen her smile so wide and her eyes with such a sparkle. She had asked Jimmy that same question hundreds of times and never once had he obliged her. Wrapping a hand around hers, Darragh rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. "I've got somethin' ta handle in the Republic fer most of the day, so I should be there about eight. Also, since yer gonna be in the Short Strand, I wanna swap cars wit' ya. I don't spend much time on that side of the river so my car won't be easily recognizable."

Catherine felt stupid for not even thinking about that. With all the time she had spent living in the Short Strand, it was a risk sending her in to follow a man who knew the IRA was itching to take him out.

Leaving Belfast—or Northern Ireland for that matter—always lit a fire of anxiety in the pit of Darragh's stomach. He no longer worried about catching a tail to an arms dump, it was leaving Catherine vulnerable while he was some distance away.

Now that she was no longer working under the Quartermaster, Catherine couldn't know where in the Republic the weapons, ammunition, and explosives were being held. Even if he could bring her along, this was a trip Darragh didn't want her anywhere near.

"Brendan'll be with me, so if Carrigan spots ya or anyone starts trouble, Max and Kieran should be yer first calls," he instructed. "A bloke from Dungloe warned me that Jimmy's been on the warpath since the two of ye ended things. He's expected ta be back in Belfast by mid-afternoon today. If ya see him and he says one fuckin' word ta ye, immediately call yer Da and then me."

Catherine took a nervy breath, not ready for Jimmy to be back home. The last week had been near blissful with him in Donegal with SOA, coordinating the AK shipments to Charming. If she wasn't stressed enough about her first attempt at a stakeout, having to keep an eye peeled for Jimmy made her dread it even more. Knowing Darragh had her back if Jimmy did attempt a petty confrontation helped ease some of the apprehension.

"I promise I'll do my best ta avoid trouble," she joked, brining his hand to her mouth where she pressed soft kisses to his fingertips. "Just please make sure ya come back ta me in one piece."

Darragh raised an eyebrow and cocked the corner of his mouth into a smirk. He should have known better than to think Catherine wasn't in the know about what he was doing. After all, it had been her who gave him the green light to go ahead with the operation before she took the demotion to his unit. Catherine wasn't thrilled with the idea of Darragh being the one to transport two unstable pipe bombs to Belfast, but he was the type of commander who never asked his subordinates to anything he wouldn't do himself.

He respected Catherine enough not to sugar coat reality for her. Though, with everything she had on her mind already, he didn't want her worrying about him. "I promise I'll come back in one piece."


For nearly four hours, Catherine had been sitting in Darragh's Civic. She followed Shane Carrigan all over Belfast and parts of Andersontown, committing each stop he made to memory. To keep the leader of the Irish People's Liberation Army from recognizing her, Catherine had her copper curls hidden under a black skull cap and her eyes stayed behind sunglasses even though it was drizzling.

Waiting for Carrigan to leave the Templemore Swim and Fitness Centre in the Short Strand, Catherine mindlessly flipped through an issue of The Sun. She shoved piece after piece of bubblegum into her mouth, chewing mercilessly in an attempt to curb the irresistible craving for a cigarette.

From the cup holder, her cellphone began to ring. Flipping it open with her chin, Catherine brought it to her ear. It was the doctor, confirming the news Catherine already knew. Her blood test came back positive—she was undoubtedly pregnant. Before hanging up, the ultrasound was confirmed for the next afternoon.

After tossing her phone back in the cup holder, Catherine gripped the steering wheel. Her knuckles turned a bright shade of white as she let it all sink in. She was calmer than she had expected herself to be, but she wondered how much that had to do with being out in public and not in the comfort of her bedroom.

There were no tears. Pregnancy was supposed to be a joyous time for a woman. She knew she'd be doing herself a disservice in resenting or dreading every beautiful moment of it, simply because of who she had conceived with. It didn't matter how many times Jimmy could try and convince Catherine that he was ready to take on the responsibility of a child, she knew that was far from being true. He'd never be ready for a wee one.

Placing her hand over her still flat tummy, Catherine made the decision that she could never tell Jimmy the truth. Keeping the baby's paternity a secret wouldn't just protect Jimmy from further professional shame, it would also guard Fiona and Kerrianne from mockery. Most importantly, it would reduce the amount of humiliation brought upon the O'Toole name.

There was no way to know how it would all turn out, but she didn't ignore that gut-feeling telling her it would all be okay.

Around six, Catherine wrapped up her surveillance on Carrigan. Still in the Short Strand, she decided to pick up groceries for dinner and see a friendly face. Pulling the skull cap off her head and fluffing out her curls, Catherine timidly waltzed into Ashby's Provisions. It had been an embarrassingly long time since she had seen Maureen and Trinity last.

Noticing Maureen was busy taking inventory behind the counter, Catherine kept to herself as she gathered sausages and potatoes, then onions and broth for gravy. In Belfast, there were dozens of stores where she could have shopped—for cheaper—but, there was an ulterior motive for Catherine's visit.

"Well, if it isn't Catherine Mary." Maureen smiled warmly as Catherine placed her groceries on the counter. "It's been a minute since I've last seen ye. What's the craic? How'er yer parents an' brothers? Is yer ma sill in Scotland?"

Catherine internally chuckled at Maureen's rapid fire questioning. Though Maureen chose to stay an arm's length away from the IRA, that didn't stop a life-long friendship from blossoming between she, Olivia, and Fiona. They didn't talk much nowadays, but that didn't stop them from meeting for tea once a month.

"Everyone's doin' well. No one's in jail which is always grand. Aye, my Ma's there, she'll be back in two weeks. I know Brien is lookin' forward ta havin' Padraic around again."

As Maureen rang up Catherine's purchases, they chatted. The news of Catherine and Jimmy splitting had spread through Belfast like wildfire, and Catherine only knew that because Maureen pried for details. She kept it cool, holding it close to her chest that there was a budding romance between Darragh and her.

At this point, Catherine figured it would only take about five minutes for the word of her pregnancy to reach Tralee, all the way down in County Kerry. As she reached in the back pocket of her jeans for the tenners Darragh had given her, Catherine nonchalantly dropped a question of her own:

"How well do ya know the blokes from the mother charter?"

Nothing else had to be said for Maureen to know exactly what was being asked. Her loyalty had always laid with the Sons of Anarchy, as she was the old lady of SAMBEL's president.

Maureen froze in the middle of bagging the potatoes and onions. She had to tread carefully, not knowing how much Catherine knew or why she was asking. "Not very well. Why do ya ask?"

It wasn't exactly a lie, but it discouraged Catherine nonetheless. The list of people who knew Catherine had been in California with SAMCRO was extremely short, and Maureen wasn't on it.

"Just lookin' ta possibly get a letter ta Filip."

Nor was that necessarily a lie either, but she was far more interested in getting word back to Happy.

"I've no way ta get word across the pond," she said. Taking a deep breath, Maureen leaned into Catherine and lowered her voice. "But Keith does. Bring it ta me an' I'll see that he gets it. No one from the True Army will know."