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“You understand as much as I do.”
Confusion, anger, and finally love surface before disappearing. His eyes turn stony. “What the hell is going on?”
My gun, in his hand, is still trained on me. “It seems our families are jumbled together.”
He searches my face, slotting in pieces, making the puzzle whole. “You’re Chadwick Lee’s sister.”
I swallow the bile gathering in my throat.
“The shooting you saw when you were ten… It was him.” His face softens around the eyes. He knows what that moment did, how much it haunts me. I’ve given him pieces of me no one else has seen.
I nod, and tears gather in my eyes. Pressing my lips together, I blink to clear my vision. The tears slip out. This could still go in so many directions, but I don’t want to fight Lorcan. I’m not sure I could shoot him even if it came to that.
“He died in my arms,” I whisper.
“Kim.” The gentleness in his voice soothes me. He lets the letter fall to the floor as he raises his free hand and lowers the gun. “Can we—can we lower the guns and talk about this?”
“I don’t know.” I shake my head. “There’s too much. It’s too complicated.”
“My brother killed your brother. Your mother paid for a hit on my father. Your mother had my father killed.”
I keep my gun raised even as Lorcan lowers his. “I don’t think she did. I don’t think that’s what happened.”
He places his hand on the top of my gun, pushing my hand to my side. His proximity relaxes me, takes the edge off my sadness and anger.
“Their mistakes aren’t ours.” His voice has the lilting softness I love, and a shuddering breath escapes me.
“I think your father had my father killed.” Except as far as he knows, my father isn’t dead.
Lorcan frowns as he takes the gun from me and sets both on the dresser. His gaze rakes over me, and I wonder what conclusions he’s making. A single thread tugged the right way is unraveling everything.
“There’s only one explanation that makes sense. There’s only one way your backstory checked out so completely, that your identity was sealed up so solidly.”
I hold his look but say nothing. Anger touches the edges of his features again. Anything I do at this point is risky. At least we aren’t pointing guns at each other anymore.
“I saw you there talking to Zahir.”
His posture tenses, and space opens between us. “FBI.”
“You were willing to work with us if Finn killed your father.”
“Us,” he scoffs. “I told Zahir I’d kill any agent he planted.”
“I know.”
We glare at each other for a moment. My palms are moist, and a trickle of sweat slithers along my side. I refuse to acknowledge the gun on the dresser. Lorcan won’t hurt me.
“I suppose that deal is dead since your mother had the Russians kill my father. It would explain Semyon’s behavior the other day.”
“I think the Russians were involved. But I think Finn was too. I think you were right about him all along.”
“Convenient now for you to agree with me.”
I purse my lips. “When Carys came to see me, she said Finn pretty much told her he had something to do with your father’s murder.”
“Pretty much.” Lorcan raises an eyebrow, skepticism coating him.
“He didn’t admit it, but Carys felt he said enough to suggest he did it or had a part in it.”