TWENTY-NINE
HIS DAUGHTER. What father didn’t want a surprise meeting with their youngest child? Not that her friend knew who they were waiting for just yet.
At Vyne, they ordered drinks and waited.
“Im loves this place, talks about it all the time,” Strat said, scanning the space. “Have you eaten here?”
“Uh, yeah, maybe.”
“Maybe?” he asked. “You’re not listening to me.”
“No.”
She didn’t expect to be stood up, but a question hung in the air over how sane it was to set this up. Not because it was Imogen, she was a fan of the woman. Now she was. It had taken a while for them to get together and actually find common ground.
Her apprehension came in the subject matter, it could be dicey.
“Good,” Strat said. “‘Cause I’d rather you didn’t listen to me when I tell you the rumor I heard last night.”
Last night? Wait, did he say rumor?
Suddenly, Strat was her whole wide world. “What rumor?”
He laughed. “You’re predictable, Scamp.”
“Tell me.”
“Word is, there was a Huntsman in town last night.”
Okay, so, humph.
“Cool,” she said and fixated on the door again.
She’d asked Imogen to come alone. Maybe she thought it was weird they weren’t meeting in the office. Or maybe she was reluctant to come to a place she’d frequented with her ex. So long as those were the reasons for the tardiness, they were okay. If something happened to Imogen, if she had to tell Lach the woman he’d loved was hurt or in danger… Loved? Was it past tense? How fast did someone fall out of love after being dumped?
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
Her friend’s acceptance was curious in itself. “Thought what?”
“Figured I’d say it out loud and your reaction would tell me if it was true or not. Ire told you?”
“Not exactly.”
“Just be glad you didn’t lay eyes on him. Word is they never leave witnesses.”
“To their existence?” Okay, slightly scary because she hadn’t just seen an intrepid Huntsman, she’d watched him murder for money. “It’s a myth.”
“They’re a myth. How do you think they stay that way?” He flattened a hand on the table. “By never leaving witnesses.”
“I’d check your sources.”
Damn sure she’d be checking hers.
“Still haven’t told me what happened at the Grand last night. Guys downstairs thought it was something, you know, McDade related.”
“We’re not the only Irish in the city.”
“And there’s more to that story.”
“I didn’t ask specifics,” she said.
“Wow, maybe you got hit on the head, or…” He leaned in. “Are you a doppelg?nger?”
“Ha, ha, ha.” Why hadn’t she asked Conn for details about what went down at the hotel? She would. As soon as she circled the wagons around her brother. “Maybe I’m holding off until you give me a full rundown of what happened in Hustle the night you were abducted.”
“I told you what happened.”
“You told me up until Conn walked in, what happened after that?”
Damn fate would choose that moment for Imogen to arrive.
Spotting her, she stood up, and the woman diverted to approach, about three seconds later Imogen and Strat noticed each other.
“My daughter?” Strat said. “You couldn’t give me the heads-up?”
“What do you need the heads-up for? Are you afraid of her?”
Strat adored his daughter. Despite that sentiment not always being reciprocated, Strat held true. Nothing could dent his love for his baby girl.
“Switch sides with me.” Both of them left the booth. “Immie.”
“What the hell happened to you?” Imogen reached for her dad’s bruised face, but he ducked out of the way. “What’s this about?” Strat directed his daughter to sit then slid in after her, facing the door. “Has something happened? Where’s Ford?”
She slipped in at the free side of the table. “Your brother’s fine.”
The server brought drinks and Imogen ordered too.
“Are we eating?”
“Are you hungry?” Strat asked. “Sersh hasn’t eaten breakfast.” Though she had got a shot of protein. “And I’m ignoring the smile on Scamp’s face right now.”
“I want to see Ford. If I’d known you were—Jagg’s outside, he’s been crazy protective since Ford disappeared. Is he safe?”
“Your brother hasn’t disappeared,” Strat said. “He’s working for the McDades.”
Imogen paled. “What? Since when? No offense, Sersha, but I thought my brother was free of that crap.”
“This is…” Strat lingered. “It’s special circumstances.”
“Nothing will happen to him,” she said, “you have my word.”
“Is that what you said to my dad before he got beat down?” Imogen’s concern was devoted, pained, and didn’t that just pile on the guilt. “You said he was at Hustle, but I didn’t know… Dad, why are you getting mixed up in this again?”
The man had once been free of it. Until not long ago actually. Her connection to Conn, her relationship with him, dragged her friend back in, against his will. He’d never say it, but that’s what happened. This wasn’t a path he’d chosen, it was one she’d put him on. Forced him on. Had she done the same to Lachlan?
“This was a bad idea,” she said and pushed to the end of the booth. “I’m sorry, both of you, I—”
“You’re not going fucking anywhere,” Strat said and grabbed her wrist to keep her seated. “This makes sense, what you’re doing, it’s a good idea.”
Imogen’s focus yo-yoed between them. “What’s a good idea?”
“Kinda touched actually, you do pay attention when I talk, Scamp, what d’ya know?”
“You’re really on fire with the jokes today, old man,” she said, deadpan, but gave up her escape attempt. “I’m worried about Lach.”
“Was he beaten up too? Is he working for the McDades?”
Pushing for answers on that subject hadn’t been fruitful, though she should’ve tried harder. Imogen didn’t know the truth about the superintendent, about him murdering his own father, about him being on the take.
“Lach’s not handling this well.”
“The alderman’s murder?”
“Yeah,” Strat said. “Let’s go with that.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing,” she said, flashing a glare at Strat. “I wanted to ask if you’d noticed any difference in him.”
“Lach? I haven’t seen much of him, he’s… unhappy.”
That much was obvious. “My brother, he’s important, he’s a good man. I don’t want him left behind. You’ve got Jagg, I’m with Conn, and… Lach looked up to my grandfather, and my dad isn’t exactly the type to put his children first. We have to look out for him.”
“I’ll reach out, talk to him, but… he doesn’t trust me like he used to.”
When they were a couple.
Strat straightened a fraction. “Shit,” he exhaled.
“What is it?”
“Trouble at two o’clock.”
As she turned, it arrived.
“Lach?” she asked. Shit, how did he do that? “What are you doing here?”
Except he didn’t answer, just grabbed her arm. “Excuse my sister and me a second.”
Dragging her out of the booth, he pulled her to the door though they didn’t go through it.
“What are you doing?” he hissed.
“What am I doing? My job as your sister. I’m worried about you.”
“Little late for that, don’t you think?” he asked only then releasing her arm. “Imogen is my business.”
“You broke up.”
“Doesn’t matter. I don’t want her involved. Don’t want any of our family crap tainting her, you hear me?”
“What are you talking about? Where is this attitude coming from?”
This hostility, the frustration, it wasn’t the Lachlan of old, this was exactly her fear, that he’d be hardened by events.
“She’s not to know.”
Not to know? What? The list of “could be” was long.
“About Dad?”
“About Dad, Vex, Byrne.” What the fuck? “None of it.”
“How do you know about Byrne?”
Vex was another question mark, but Lach would be more likely to come across information about him than a man, and contract, almost a thousand miles away.
“Baby sister, you made your choices, I’m making mine. Stay out of it.”
“Out of it?”
“My life. Your choices are yours, mine belong to me.”
“No deal, sorry. I love you. Haven’t we looked out for each other all our lives? You can’t ask me to stop now. Is that your plan? To give up on me?”
“I’m not giving up, I’m playing the hand, seeing this through to the end.”
What the hell did that mean? End of what?
“I need you more now than I ever have in the past. I need you, Lach.”
“No, you don’t,” he said and stepped back. “You got it so right. All those years we…” His jaw moved, something was on his mind, and from his lack of eye contact, it wasn’t something he wanted to share. “Look at where we are, Sersh, and how we got here. All my life, everything I worked for…”
“I know,” she said and caught his hand. “I know how screwed up things are, and I’m sorry for my role in how we got here.”
He extricated his hold from hers. “We’re past the point of apologies. The game has changed, there are new rules now, for both of us.”
“They don’t have to be different. You can’t let yourself be—can’t let dad’s choices, my choices, dictate who you are.”
“Isn’t that what I’ve always done? What am I? In this fucked up mess, what the fuck am I?”
An identity crisis? Strat was right, her brother was riding these rapids. Any drastic choice made now may be irrevocable later. If he felt this way in six months, a year, fine, changes could be good, but not now, not in a hasty reaction to shock.
“You’re mad.” Staying calm was kind of condescending, but yelling wouldn’t accomplish anything. “Lach, please, talk to me. We can figure this out. I can help you figure it out.”
“Stay out of my life, Sersh,” he said and opened the door. “Go back to your huddle, but if I find out you told Imogen any of this, that you involved her…” He shook his head almost like he didn’t recognize her. “This isn’t a game.”
As he marched out, the words rattled in her skull. It wasn’t a game. Her impulsive, selfish actions endangered people she loved. Wasn’t that the same thought she’d had over and over? Why didn’t she do something about it? Instead of sitting around on her ass, she needed to grab control.