Barry moved to the study, a grim, determined expression on his bearded face.

Bianca was staring straight ahead, collecting herself, her arms around her son, who was now beginning to struggle and whine. Cain did not like to be confined for a long time, even if it was his Mommie holding him.

So like the Irishman, Bianca would say fondly, stroking his black curls.

But now, as she became aware of Barry leaving he room, she placed Cian on the floor and hurried after the biker.

“Barry!’ she cried, and as the man turned, a grim look on his face, she went on,

“What…what are you going to do?”

He...