Chapter 53
Q uaid stared down at Billy Moray.
A very dead Billy Moray.
Thank. Fuck.
He’d just walked into a morgue in Cardiff. He’d had to bribe his way in and only had a few seconds to identify the deceased.
Why had he rushed out of the penthouse the way he had two days ago? He should have taken the time to talk to Indie. To check on her burns. To speak to Slade.
But like a coward, he’d run.
Something he was deeply regretting and by the time he’d realized that he should go back, Shepherd had received a tip-off about a body resembling Billy being found. So he’d rushed to Wales.
He’d scared her. Caused her pain. He’d been an asshole to her. Kicked her out of their lives when she was innocent.
But could she possibly still want him?
It boggled his mind and he knew he didn’t deserve her.
However, he wanted her.
Fuck .
“Did you get what you needed?” the assistant asked.
“Yeah. You know how he died?” he asked.
“Ah, well, yeah. The report hasn’t been finalised but he took a gunshot to the chest.”
He nodded and held out his hand for the other man to shake, slipping him some cash.
Then he headed outside into the wet night. The rain beat down on him as he moved toward his car.
There was a guy leaning against his car who straightened as he approached.
“Shepherd,” he said quietly. “Wasn’t expecting you.”
Shepherd shrugged. “Figured I’d check in. Was it him?”
“Yeah, it was Billy. Fucker was shot.”
“Damn, I was hoping to get hold of him. Got a few questions about how he doctored that video footage. Fucker wasn’t well liked so it’s not surprising. But I wonder who killed him.”
Quaid shrugged. That wasn’t his problem. He was dead.
“Guess it means your girl is safe,” Shepherd said. “You make good use of my gift yet?”
Quaid glowered at him. “Your knee pads? No. And she’s not mine.”
“Ahh, being an idiot, are you?” Shepherd said before he started walking away. “I’m not surprised. Disappointed, but unsurprised. Why be happy when you can be miserable, right? Pretty sure that’s your old man’s motto.”
Fuck.
God, he hated Shepherd sometimes.
He climbed in his car and drew out his phone, texting Slade.
Quaid: Found Billy. He’s dead.
Slade: What? How?
Quaid: Looks like a robbery gone wrong. He was found without his wallet in an alley in Cardiff. Shot in the chest.
Slade: Thank fuck. Now Indie is safe. When are you coming home ?
Quaid: I don’t know. I need some time to think.
Slade: Don’t be a dick. Get home. She needs you.
Quaid turned off his phone. He just needed a few nights to get his brain in order. And to try and convince himself that he could be the man that Indie deserved.