SIXTEEN
WHEN HER EYES next opened, there was silence. The bedroom door was closed too. Sitting up, she yawned and went to explore the closet and the bathroom. The shower washed away so many troubles. The shower? Maybe the man who’d rescued her. No longer apart, all the knots pounding in her muscles disappeared down the drain.
Somehow, and amazingly, women’s clothes were there. Okay, so she didn’t recognize them as hers exactly, but the place was prepped with clothes in her size. Maybe they weren’t for her, they could’ve been left behind by an ex. She still didn’t know where they were. It could be the doctor’s house.
The doctor, or his wife, wouldn’t mind her using them, would they? It was that or strut about in Conn’s shirts for the rest of time. She wouldn’t complain, the guys might, and the enemies Conn intimidated. Did her wardrobe choices diminish the power of his intimidation? Having the superintendent’s daughter sashaying around in barely anything had to—
The comb stopped in her hair. Superintendent’s daughter? No. Now she was what from a disgraced family? Without the law enforcement link, maybe she wouldn’t be any use to Conn at all, professionally, that is. She’d be all kinds of use to him in other areas.
The office was empty, so was the small bedroom she’d started in. Hmm. She wasn’t Conn’s prisoner but didn’t want to overstep by wandering around the unknown place.
Overstep? As the thought rose, it disappeared. Strat’s attitude to her implication it was possible to overstep put hers in immediate perspective. Wherever she was, Conn was invited. Didn’t that work the other way too?
Conn’s phone was on the desk. His, hers, who knew anymore? She wasn’t interested in snooping, so it could stay there for the moment.
Better to seek another soul before racking up the airtime. Putting her friend’s mind at ease was first on the agenda. If Strat discovered her missing, if there was any hint of what happened… She wouldn’t do to him what she’d just endured with Conn. By connection, her brother would get an update too, keeping everyone happy. Unlikely he’d heard what happened at the loft, though if he wasn’t worrying about their father… Yeah, what happened there? She needed some updates herself.
The other double doors led to an open second floor walkway lined with balustrades. In front of her was a wide, opulent staircase. The stag symbol in the wood, and on the doors she’d just opened, clued her in.
“My God,” she whispered to no one. “This is the McDade Mansion.”
It still existed! Okay, its existence wasn’t a shock, but that Conn still had it… Wow, that was unexpected. He’d grown up there, as had his father. She hadn’t heard anything about the building for so long that she guessed it had been sold or fallen into disrepair.
Worked out even better that she’d read so much history of the family. From the reports, she had an idea of the layout, of the areas regular people accessed; connected, but not fully trusted people. The McDades would never be dumb enough to leave full architectural plans accessible or anything, but the parties…
Creeping down the stairs, the soft carpet squished beneath her toes. The clean line of the magnificent handrail aided her descent. The marble foyer floor begged attention, and every door and corner begged to be explored.
That would have to wait until after she’d connected with Strat. Why had he never mentioned the McDade house before? Did he know they still had it? No distractions, okay, the parties… The dining room was to the left, seemed like a good starting point for her hunt. The kitchen was actually on the lower floor and—
Not so swish as the old days. The dining room was huge, just like the pictures online. But gone were its formal roots. It looked more like a rec room than an opulent dinner hall. Couches, televisions, consoles, they had a coffee corner with fridges and counters. Beer. Chips. Some guys were eating sandwiches or ramen. What a life.
“Bluebell!” The exclamation brought her around to Daly coming toward her. “You found us.”
“Yes, I did.” She hugged him and gave an extra squeeze of stealth gratitude. “Is Strat around?”
“Not yet.” Backing off, he stuck a hand in his pocket. “Heard he was on your tail. D’ya shake him?”
“He was, but…” She opened her arms. “I’m here now.” But, huh? “On my tail like this last week? How do you know he was on my tail?”
“I have ears. Said we haven’t seen the boss, doesn’t mean we haven’t heard him.”
“Which boss are we talking now? My boss or your boss?”
“Both.”
If her guy was raising his voice, only one guy would be bold enough to give it back.
“He did look for me,” she muttered.
“Whoa, fucking hell, look for you—”
“Daly,” Hock said, strolling on up. “We got work?”
“I don’t know, ask Bluebell. We have work?”
“What work?”
“We going anywhere?”
“My guy has,” she said. “You seen him around?”
Both guys laughed.
The way Hock’s shoulders went back broadened his already formidable chest. “No one sees Ire these days. Just Niall.”
“Yeah, maybe he doesn’t exist anymore.”
For the duration they’d been apart, it felt that way.
“Oh, he exists,” she said. “I can vouch for that. I’d submit to an exam to confirm it, but he wouldn’t like that. How long have the guys been here?”
“Our numbers are growing. We’re keeping things low-key at Stag.”
“Because…?”
Hock and Daly shrugged.
“We’re not top of the phone tree.”
“Something’s going on,” Daly said. “Been a lot of chat, a lot of activity. Manzanis are thinking about it.”
“Thinking about what?”
“Making a move,” Daly answered. “Makes guys like us nervous.”
And women like her too, her friends were out there vulnerable. “I want Strat here.”
“We can bring him in if—”
“I’ll call him before we go full deployment.” Her friend wouldn’t argue, he’d want to see she was okay too. The request didn’t require an abduction, just an invitation. “What about Lachlan?”
“Your brother?” The guys looked at each other. “I’d ask the boss before making that call.”
She raised her hands. “This is the McDade Mansion! I had no idea it was still in the family.”
“Hasn’t been the base since Clancy left, way I hear it anyway.”
“Do you know where Conn is?” The guys would get in less trouble if she heard this from their leader’s lips too. Seeing him and hearing him were two different things, and they claimed to have done the latter. “Is he still in the building?”
“No fucking idea,” Hock said.
“Word is he hasn’t been venturing far. Could be because of his—”
“Let the boss talk to her about that.”
“About what?”
If Hock had shut Daly up to protect the guy’s hide, she shouldn’t push.
“Want us to call Niall?” Hock asked.
“No, it’s nothing important.”
“Want to play GTA?” Daly asked, his smile growing.
She laughed. “Rain check, I have to call Strat before he goes off the deep end.”
Her brother, her friend, they’d spent days tracking her. Disappearing again so soon would be kind of rude.
As she backed away, the true scope of her focus widened. Most of the guys, all of the guys maybe, had curiosity embedded in their glances and stares. Their life was in the mix, things happening at the top that they didn’t understand. Could be they blamed her for the power shifts, or maybe they believed she was on the inside, aware of strategy and plans.
Power. Hatred. Pride. The dice had to be thrown before the pieces could move. What would that catalyst be? Strat would enlighten her. Or he’d tell her to keep her beak out. That was probably more likely. Didn’t mean she’d follow the advice though.
Hurrying up the stairs, she went to grab the phone from the desk. Scrolling to his name in her contacts, she pressed call and dropped into Conn’s seat. The smooth leather felt good beneath her. Or maybe it was the imprint of its last occupant—
“I knew you’d call eventually, Princess.”
All those loose knots coiled tight again. Every muscle in her body tensed.
“Evander,” she whispered to the voice at the other end of the line. “Where’s Strat?”
“Right here with me, Princess. For a guy his age, he’s got a lot of fight in him. Only took three bullets.”
“No, Evander, please, is he alive?”
“Alive? Oh, yeah, sure, Princess, just barely.”
“Scamp, you tell—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Vex snapped.
The thud in the background wasn’t encouraging. Nor was the silence after.
“Don’t hurt him,” she pleaded, “let him go.”
“That’s the plan, Princess. Soon as you get here.”
“Evander, you don’t have to do this. You don’t need to—”
“You owe me, Princess. This is just the tip of the iceberg, baby. Come here, give me what I want, and Daddy goes free. Fuck me around…”
“Please, Evander—”
“That’s it, baby. That’s what I want to hear. Beg, Princess.”
“Don’t hurt him.”
“Come to me, it’s a clean swap, him for you.”
Oh, yeah, and what did that look like? Even if Strat was given the go, even if they kicked him out of wherever they were, he’d never abandon her. No matter if she begged him to leave, he wouldn’t. They could put him in a car, drive him a hundred miles away, and his first act of freedom would be to return to her.
“You think I’m stupid?”
“I think you want your special friend alive and kicking. He has kids, right?”
Kids who’d proved themselves, kids who’d helped her at her lowest, who’d supported her, worked hard for her. Everyone close to her ended up dead or in trouble. One guilt battled another.
“Where?” she asked because what choice did she have?
“You come alone, sweetcheeks; you bring the Irish, we’ll have a barbecue.”
“Are you afraid of him?” she asked, spiteful and helpless. “If Connel knew—”
“Ire’s got his coming.” The hiss of his rage screamed more than revenge. “You’re gonna pay for the insult, the hurt, for the years of fucking taunting. You’ve got a helluva tab, Princess. I’m calling it in.” Sickness overwhelmed. Terror. Revulsion. Desperation. “One hour. Hustle.”