Chapter 9 Tails Never Fails #2
The morning had gone sideways within five minutes of walking into work.
There was some sort of stomach virus running rampant through the lab.
A third of the employees had to be sent home due to a mass vomiting episode, and it wasn’t even noon yet.
The move had already set us back a week, otherwise I would’ve quarantined the building.
As it was, Noreen took it upon herself to fumigate the executive floor with enough bottles of disinfectant spray to kill everything, including the breathable air.
Her efforts were valiant, but getting sick was the least of my worries.
By now, Waverly would’ve texted at least once to check in, yet I hadn’t heard a peep from her since we left the house that morning.
She was a busy woman with a demanding career, still I couldn’t help the niggling sensation in my gut that said something was wrong.
So when my phone rang with an unknown number, I didn’t hesitate to answer.
“Yeah?”
“It’s Duncan. You need to get to Birds of a Feather.”
“What’s wrong?”
I was already on my feet, switching the phone to speaker so I could send a message to Wes to meet me in the lobby. Time was of the essence.
“Some shit went down with her father. None of it good.”
“Feck. Are you with her?”
“No. Shayne is.”
In the few encounters I’d had with Detective Black, she came off as incredibly protective and loyal to the bone. No doubt she’d take care of my girl until I could get there. But the simple fact they were in a bar in the middle of the day had my steps quickening.
“I’m on my way.”
“Brace, Finn. She’s not in a good place.”
Double feck.
“I’ve got her.”
The elevator doors slid open seconds later and I was moving fast. It wasn’t my job to wait for Wes to catch up. He could either move his arse or get left behind. Thankfully, he did the former, saving me from having to listen to Joel chew me out later for not following protocol.
We were across the parking lot in a flash. Wes barely had his seat belt fastened before I gunned the engine. The bar was halfway across town. It’d take twenty minutes to navigate through the busy city streets during lunch rush. I was determined to make it in ten.
“Mind telling me what’s got you all fired up?” Wes gritted out, clenching the “oh shit” bar above his head as I whipped in and out of traffic.
“Waverly.” It was all I said.
“Gotcha. Well, I’m sure she’d appreciate you arriving in one piece, so you might want to slow the fuck down.”
His attitude pissed me off until I realized two important things. Sixty in a thirty was reckless and I was pushing sixty-five. Easing my foot off the gas, I settled in at forty.
“Sorry.”
“It’s all good.” He huffed out a laugh. “Just wasn’t looking to die today.”
The rest of the drive was uneventful and quiet. Wes was too busy texting—probably to Joel—to try to fill the dead air with a pointless conversation. My head wouldn’t have been in it anyway. I was too worried about Waverly.
Parking in front of the bar was nonexistent at midday, however we were lucky enough to grab a spot when a sedan pulled out a block away.
Wes stayed at my back for the walk, then made himself scarce when I located my girl sitting in a corner booth.
There was a sea of empty glasses sitting on the table in front of her, and her head was thrown back in a laugh.
Waverly was drunk. Not good.
Shayne saw me first, giving me a subtle lift of her chin. My girl was oblivious until I slid into the booth next to her.
“Finnnnn!” Her voice was several octaves too high and her eyes were bloodshot and glazed over.
“Hey, baby.” I kissed her lightly on the lips, tasting the remnants of vodka, cranberry, and some other liquor I couldn’t place. Motioning to a passing waitress, I requested, “Can we get a few glasses of water, please? And the bill.”
“Sure thing.” She went to the bar, returning quickly with three glasses and their tab.
Handing my black Amex to the waitress, I distributed the glasses around the table. “Drink up, so we can go home, Waverly.”
She picked up her water, chugged half, then pulled it away from her mouth. “How are you here?”
“Duncan called.”
“Of course he did.” Finishing the drink, she set the glass down among the pile a little harder than necessary. “Ouch.”
“What the hell? Did you hurt yourself?” She winced when I took her hand, lightly running my finger over her swollen knuckles. They also appeared to be starting to bruise. “What happened?”
“What did Duncan tell you?” Considering the amount of alcohol she’d obviously consumed, her words were crystal clear.
“Only that you needed me.”
“I do, which is crazy, because I never used to need anyone. You’ve bewitched me, Finnian O’Lachlan.
You’re all I think about and it’s not just the sex”––she glanced at Shayne briefly––“which is phenomenal, by the way. I love everything about you. I don’t even mind when you leave your boxers on the bathroom floor after you shower. ”
Waverly rambling incessantly was cute as hell. Any other time I would’ve let her continue, but I needed answers.
“Focus, baby. What happened to your hand?”
“I may have punched my dickhead father in the face.” She shrugged like it was no big deal.
“You may have?”
“You should’ve let me shoot him,” Shayne grumbled.
“Jesus Christ.”
I dropped my chin to my chest, the worry from earlier reappearing, only much worse.
Waverly didn’t talk about her relationship with her father, other than to say they didn’t have one.
We were similar in that sense. There’d been no mention of an upcoming meeting with him, so she either purposefully kept it from me or it was sprung on her.
From the high blood to alcohol ratio circulating through her veins, my guess was it was a surprise. .
Regardless, whatever happened was bad enough for one officer of the law to resort to violence while the other contemplated murder.
Feck.
“I’m gonna get going.”
“Nooo, Shayne. Stay.” She reached across the table, grabbing the other woman’s hand.
“Sorry, Way. I’ve gotta get back to work.”
“Do you think that’s a good idea?” I raised a brow, circling my finger over the half a dozen empty highball glasses.
“Oh.” Shayne grinned. “Those are all hers. I’m stone-cold sober.”
It was going to be a long night.
She’d fallen asleep—er, passed out—within minutes of settling in the car. I contemplated waking her up, but ultimately decided carrying her into the house would be easier for both of us. Plus, I loved having her in my arms.
“Thanks, Wes,” I offered as he unlocked the front door, holding it open so I could maneuver through with my precious cargo.
“I’ll be outside if you need anything.”
“You don’t need to stay. We’re not going anywhere.”
“No offense, sir, but Joel said I’m on duty until instructed otherwise. He also asked that you call him later.”
“All right then.”
My cell had been blowing up with texts since I tore out of the office.
Half were likely from Joel, while the remainder were almost certainly from his wife.
Noreen had fallen in love with Waverly just as fast as I had.
If I had to wager a guess, she was currently going out of her mind.
Once I got Waverly situated, I’d message them both.
Bypassing the couch in the living room, I opted for our bed. At forty years old, I was in excellent shape, or so I thought. My usual rigorous cardio routine had nothing on carrying a sleeping bundle up a flight of stairs though.
The back of my dress shirt was damp with sweat by the time I reached our room.
Without jostling her too much, I eased Waverly onto the bed, then rolled her to her left side.
Even in sleep, there were signs of whatever hell she’d gone through.
Lines formed between her eyes from her furrowed brows and her color was paler than usual.
Physically, Waverly was tough as nails, it was the emotional aftermath of whatever went down that concerned me.
The sooner we dealt with it, the quicker we could move on.
A whimpered sigh left her lips when I covered her with a soft blanket.
The need to climb in next to her rode me hard, but I knew from experience, if I didn’t update Noreen soon, there’d be hell to pay.
The last thing either of us needed was an uninvited guest popping up, no matter how well intentioned she might be.
Leaving the door cracked, I went back downstairs to the home office and opened my secondary laptop to catch up on whatever emails had come through since my abrupt departure.
No surprise, there were forty-seven. Most were inter-departmental communications where a response from the boss wasn’t necessary or expected.
A few others should’ve been sorted into the junk category.
But one in particular caught my eye because of the subject line. It was from Sloane and read: Times up.
Brother dearest,
I know you may not be ready to deal with the fact we have a new sister, but tough turds.
I’ve let you stew on the information for a few days, now you need to put on your big boy pants and deal.
Regardless of whether or not she donates a kidney to Pop, she’s our family.
The twins have an aunt who they’ve never met.
It’s not Shannon’s fault, just like it’s not ours.
We’re victims of our DNA. Maybe a support group is in order.
We’ll call it the Spawns of Shawn. Catchy, huh?
Anyway, I’d really like for you to be with me when I meet Shannon. Correction…I need you there. You’re my rock. I couldn’t do this adulting gig without you. Give it some thought, but make the right choice, Finn.
Love you. XOXO
Sloane