TWELVE
A BATH. A movie. Alone. She didn’t want to be alone but did want to follow orders.
Lying in bed, staring at the black dome above, she wanted his eyes on her. The nights they’d spent in bed there, mornings they’d woken together… The first day she’d seen that camera, he’d asked her to put on a show. If that light was on, she’d do it again, and again, and again. Anything to tempt him into showing up.
Wait in the bedroom, that was the rule.
Shit, it wasn’t easy.
The investigative part of her, the curious soul, wanted to be out there pounding the pavement, canvassing, talking to anyone and everyone. Would that put her in more danger? Would Conn see it as disobedience?
At her grandfather’s that night, before they’d gone inside, Conn believed she doubted him and his ability. This was her chance to show faith. In him. In the McDades. That he knew best.
Didn’t help that she didn’t have a phone either. Though after calling everyone from Strat’s with no answer, what would be the point of doing the same thing over again except to further frustrate her? Steeple would pick up, but what the hell would she tell her boss? He’d offered her time off to grieve. Chances were he thought that was the cause of her absence.
Oh, if only.
“Mo Grá…” On a sigh, she opened her arms, offering herself to him wherever he dwelled. “Come back to me.”
The whispered words made no difference to anyone except her and—was that…? Sitting up, she listened to—shit, the front door closed.
Leaping from the bed, she ran to the landing and—
“What’s up, Bluebell?”
“Up…? Daly, my—oh thank God.” Pleased to see him alive, this could be, he could be, her chance to get answers. “Where is he?”
He held up a folder. “Want to come down here?”
“I’m supposed to stay in the bedroom.” The landing was an extension of the room, in her head anyway. “Is he here? Is he coming to—”
“Need you to sign some things.”
“You came here for… admin? What the fuck, Daly?”
“I go where I’m told.”
Yeah, didn’t they all. Her friend wasn’t usually cagey with her. His whole mood seemed… off. Tense and awkward almost.
Sinking onto the floor, she curled her legs beside her. “What’s going on, Daly? Please?”
He came to the foot of the stairs. “This is important.”
Again with the folder.
“I don’t give a fuck about paperwork,” she said, defiant in her frustration. “Tell me where he is. Tell me what the fuck is going on. Why is Play at the club? Madison is in town. What about Nicki? The guys there haven’t been—”
“We’re in a tight spot.”
“What does that mean? A tight—where is he, Daly?” If she got no answer to any other question, she wanted the answer to that one. “Tell me how he is, please.” God, she was already on the floor, but if he needed her to get on her knees and bow down to him, she would. “The pain, right here…” Pressing her hand to her heart, she struggled to breathe. “Daly, I need to know.”
“He’s in a bad way.”
Her mouth opened wide, relief couldn’t take root when terror still existed. “Tell me.”
“He can’t… None of us can…”
What was he trying to say? She couldn’t blink, couldn’t breathe in anything more than short, desperate pants.
“Please. Daly, please tell me.” Moisture dropped from her lashes. “I can take it, whatever it is. Please I—”
“We failed.”
“Failed?” He’d spoken in present tense, hadn’t he? It couldn’t be that—if Conn was gone… Her tongue dried while she sought balance. “Daly, is he alive? Tell me straight.”
“I’m told.”
“You’re… told? What the fuck is—”
“No one’s seen him, he won’t see anyone.”
Shit. “Then how do you know he’s alive?”
“I’ve been told.”
Which was completely useless. “So you don’t know? No one’s seen him?”
“Not since… the night.”
“What happened?” That was a glimmer of hope. “The night I went missing, the night this started, what happened?”
He shrugged. “We’re not allowed to talk about it. Even to each other.”
“I’m not no one, Daly. I’m Cushla Machree! I’d drink acid before even thinking about hurting him.” On purpose anyway. “You can trust me. Please, I need him!”
“There’s a lot going on.”
A lot was going on before they went to the meet with her father. So many questions. She wanted to know about Whisper, Raze, the prison meet, Biz, Score—fuck, no, truth was none of that meant anything. Nothing meant anything without him.
“All I need to know is his location,” she said. “If I can go to him—”
“No,” a shot of panic joined the word, “under no circumstances.”
“Under no circumstances, what?”
“Are you to go to him.”
What? That seemed damn final.
“Are you telling me we’re through?” she asked. “No. Only I can stop this.”
Wasn’t that what Conn said? That only she had the ability to end their relationship. Even if they were over, she still wanted to know he was alive. Relationship or not, they were part of each other.
“I don’t fucking know. You think Ire talks to me about that shit?” Daly said, coming halfway up the stairs, holding out a pen. “I’m the grunt here for your signature.”
“On what?” Snatching the folder, it was possible the documents would give her an idea where her love’s head was at. “They’re blank.”
Save for signature lines at different locations on the various pages.
He tossed the pen to her knees. “They’re from Ire.”
Which was supposed to soothe her? If her love put the documents in front of her, sorry, the all but blank pages, in front of her, she wouldn’t hesitate to put pen to paper. Sign now, print the contracts later, they could put anything on them. The first thing to wonder was who “they” were. Were these from her man or someone else?
Narrowing her eyes on Daly, she searched for any hint of duplicity or betrayal.
“You know, you have every right to hate me.”
“Hate you?” he asked. “Why would I hate you?”
“Vex’s threat. Someone told you he threatened Ire’s guys and I didn’t tell him. Then you and Niall got hit.”
“That was a million years ago, Blue. You think I’m conning you? Playing both sides?”
His affront was potent, yet she couldn’t pass up the opportunity. “Tell me something.”
“Tell you what?”
“You want me to sign these?” She shook the folder in the air. “I’ll sign ‘em. If you show trust in me, tell me something.”
And his offense disappeared in a sigh. “You don’t doubt my loyalty, you’re manipulating me,” he said, to which she smiled, for the first time in a while. “You won’t sign unless I answer one of your questions.”
“You can tell him I tortured it out of you,” she said. Though if he hadn’t seen Conn thus far, she doubted he’d be running back to an emotional reunion. “All I want to know is if he’s okay.” And why he was insisting on distance between them. Why he hadn’t looked for her. Why he wouldn’t talk to her. “I won’t survive without him, Daly. Every breath hurts. I need to know. Give me some hint he’s… that he’s okay.”
“In a bad way” suggested otherwise. Was it a bad way like he was in pain, or in a bad way like they still didn’t know if he’d make it alive? And how had they failed? Who failed? At what?
Daly’s shoulders descended as he propped a forearm on the banister. “Niall’s with him.”
Okay, that was good except… “Does that mean you’re not all at the same location?”
“There’s a trusted few. Those who know the site anyway. We drift in and out when he needs us.”
“Which you know because Niall tells you?” She exhaled as he shrugged. “Not exactly a revelation that Niall’s the one closest to him. Has he told you about his—”
“Sign.”
Daly had been with her since the start of this. Since the very first night she’d been dragooned into Connel’s office. God that night… Their time together could’ve been so different. Strange just how much one person could change. Something once meaningless had become her reason for being.
Signing the first page and the second, each new line felt like one closer to losing her connection to him. Daly would leave and then what? She’d just live there forever? Waiting? Wasting away?
She stopped about halfway through. “Why all the secrecy? He trusts me. Conn trusts me.” Or he had before he got shot protecting her. “Will you tell him…?” She swallowed. “Tell him I’m sorry.”
“Probably knows that. You’re asking the same questions the guys have too. Think the picture’s crystal for the rest of us? You’re a good girl, Bluebell.” Except he snickered. “By McDade standards. Night was crazy frantic, things moved fast. It felt like the whole world was on its head. Hasn’t fixed itself since…” And they didn’t have their leader for stability. “Truth is…” There was that spear of hope. “Most of us thought you were with him.”
Right. She sagged. If they hadn’t seen him, they didn’t know who was with him or what went down. They may not have known she was ever at the meet in Henry’s house. How could the McDade crew know if no one other than Niall was at his side? She would’ve been with Conn if her father hadn’t dragged her out of there.
Her guy wasn’t always the most forthright, had he told Niall the full story?
“I don’t have a phone,” she said. “But if you’re seeing Niall, ask him to get in touch. Show up himself or ask one of you guys to get a phone—”
“You can’t get a phone?”
She gestured at the bedroom. “I’m staying right here, where Conn wants me to be.” Showing she could be trusted, that her loyalty was steadfast, was important. “Strat’s the only person who knows this location and I asked him to go. Tell Niall the superintendent’s at my old apartment. In case he wants to…”
Unsure if Daly was on the inside of what happened, she didn’t say too much.
“I can bring you whatever you need.”
“My guy.” Plain as day. “He’s the only thing I need.”
“And he’s the only thing in the world I can’t drag to your doorstep.” His sympathy was sweet. “Food, alcohol, books, or…”
“Just my guy.”
“You have to eat.”
She exhaled. “Not as much as I need him.”
When was the last time she’d eaten? Didn’t matter.
“Got a few pages left.” Right, the papers. “You trust the boss? Sign it?” Trust? Desperately. Need? Even more. Miss? Without question. Waiting wasn’t her strong suit. “Don’t worry about it, Bluebell. He’ll get patched up in no time.”
And that took her eyes to his in time to see a wink. Patched up. The doctor. Yes, she’d figured Conn might need medical help. But damnit, she didn’t know where to find the McDade medic. How could she get to the doctor…?