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“My mom died, and I want to know it’s possible to feel better about it.”
Finn’s shoulders lift, and he grimaces, the first sign of any pain since he got home. “You’re never going to feel better about it. Never. That ache? It’ll be with you, a constant companion until the day you die.” He tries to catch my gaze, but I won’t let him. Silence rests for a beat. “You remember when you went to see Derry with me?”
I nod.
“What’d I tell him about screwing with my family?”
“That you don’t just come after him, you go after everyone.”
“Exactly. Exactly. Derry realized what I meant. It wouldn’t have been the first time I did it.”
“Who’d you go after with the mechanic?” I’m so numb from my mother’s death, this conversation isn’t sinking in. Finn’s sympathy over my loss is making him more forthcoming than normal.
“I killed his son.” He stares at his hands.
I suck in a sharp breath. “You killed his son.” My hand reaches for one of my guns, but I took them off hours ago and left them in my room. Stupid. Finn could remember everything at any moment, and I’m unarmed.
“Shoulda killed the sniveling little kid who stumbled on the scene afterward.” Finn searches my face.
I’m so far gone, I don’t even care what he sees there. “Why didn’t you?”
“Lorcan was with me. He doesn’t like the ‘kill-’em-all’ policy, and I was feeling generous that night. He begged me to go, to leave it alone. It was pretty dark, but I wondered if it’d bite me on the ass. She saw me, plain as day.”
“Probably too traumatized,” I whisper. Even as he’s telling me, I can’t access the memory. It’s gone which makes talking about it right now even more unreal. “Lorcan was there?”
“Yeah, why?”
“He stopped you from killing her?” He saved me. Lorcan saved my life.
“Yeah. That get you hot and bothered? Got a hero complex? My brother isn’t a hero. He’s got a smidge more of a conscience than me.”
That smidge is the difference. I drain my milk, drop the mug in the sink with a clatter, then leave the kitchen without looking back. My heart races as I stride to my rooms, my vision blurry at the edges. I need a gun. Then, I’m going to Finn’s room, and I’m ending this.
Chad. Chad. Chad.
Blood coats my hands, and they shake. I try to punch in the code to my room, and my hand falters. I’m on my third attempt before I get it to register.
When I open the door, I’m dumbfounded for a moment, wondering whether the world has toppled off its axis. Beside the bed, bare-chested, my mother’s letter clutched in his hand, is Lorcan. He stares at me, and his tense posture signals the depths of his anger.
Rage bubbles out of him. “What the fuck is this, Kim?”
Chapter Forty-One
My mind spins from the revelations hitting me in the chest. Lorcan saved my life. He’ll realize my mother put a hit on his father. Finn killed Chad. The last one bounces around in my brain again. Finn killed Chad. Finn almost killed me.
Ignoring Lorcan, I stride to the dresser to grab my gun. He reads me with ease, and he snatches it before I can slip by. I roll off him and reach under the bed to grab the weapon I kept strapped there for emergencies. We circle each other, guns raised.
“You’ve been lying to me,” Lorcan’s voice is a growl deep in his throat.
“Yes.” My lies are done. I keep the gun trained on him, but love and anger are warring in me for dominance. “You’re no Boy Scout yourself.”
“Never claimed to be.” He holds up the letter in his free hand. “This was to get close to us?” He gestures to the bed and the scattered papers he’s riffled through, but his focus on me doesn’t waver.
My carefully constructed piles are a mess. He’s so smart I wonder if he’s pieced everything together quicker than me.
“Yes.”
“Your mother put out a hit on my father? How is this even possible?”