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It takes me a moment to register he hasn’t said anything that’ll lead to my murder. “In pain?” I take a bite of my toast and chew.
Maybe I should have gone straight to Lorcan. Every time I look at him, all I can think about is Chad, dead, blood leaking out of him and onto me. When that happens, part of me becomes so angry it’s hard to see straight, let alone think straight.
“I got drugs for that.” He shakes his head and runs a hand down his face. “My dreams. Or, I don’t know, maybe nightmares. I’m waking up to the thwump of the helicopter blades.” With a huff, his brow furrows. “Someone calling your name. I don’t recognize the voice. He calls you Kimmy.”
I pause before I take another bite. His back is turned, but his posture isn’t tense. He’s on the cusp of remembering, but he knows nothing yet.
“That’s weird,” I say. “You used to call me Kimmy, though. You haven’t since you woke up.”
He frowns and glances at me. “No?”
“Nope.” I pop out the p. “I gotta go see Lorcan.”
Finn nods. “You know why I’d hear someone calling your name?”
“Not a clue.” A brief smile crosses my face. “Maybe it’s your subconscious telling you to call me Kimmy again, even if I hated it. Or maybe you’re taking too many drugs.”
He smirks and rubs the back of his head as the coffee finishes brewing. Glancing at me, he says, “That’s not it. It’s a memory. I can’t quite catch it.”
“I’m sure it’ll come.” I dust off my hands. There’s a sinking sensation in my stomach. Although my tone is casual, inside, a riot brews.
Before Finn says anything else, I leave the kitchen and head for Lorcan’s bedroom. The door unlatches before I key in the code. He must have been watching for me.
“All sorted?” He eyes me from the kitchenette. There’s a wariness to his posture I’m not used to seeing anymore. We’re not back on even ground yet.
“He did it.” I move closer to Lorcan. “I know Finn had a hand in your father’s death.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Lorcan stares at me for a moment. “You went to see Semyon.”
“I did.”
He closes his eyes and bangs his fist on the counter. With a swipe of his hand, the glass beside him flies against the wall. His stormy gaze lands on me. “He could have killed you. You shouldn’t have gone, and you certainly shouldn’t have gone alone.”
“I’ve been working for the FBI for quite a few years. You think this is the first time I’ve gone into a dangerous situation? Coming here, working for you and Finn is as dangerous as what I did today.” I examine his tense, coiled rage. “If you love me, you have to love all of me. This is who I am. This is what I do.”
“And if you gave a shit about how I felt, you wouldn’t be lying to me still.”
“I—I knew you wouldn’t want me to go. That you’d either come with me or stop me from going. I wouldn’t have been able to get the information.”
“He came out and told you? Denied me the other day but spilled it to you.”
“No,” I say evenly. “His son Hagen couldn’t resist rubbing his knowledge in my face. Guys like him love having little nuggets of truth to lord over others.” I cross my arms. “He said Finn figured I’d be knocking on his door at some point.”
Lorcan presses his hands into the counter and doesn’t look at me.
“He said, and I quote, ‘I’ll have to let Finn know the jig is up.’”
“I saw him this morning. He was complaining of headaches and bad dreams.” Lorcan focuses on me. “What happened out by the shed that night?”
For a moment, I consider lying. Protecting myself is so ingrained, even though I understand I can trust him, my instinct is to hold back.
“I found Finn leaning against the shed, already injured. It’s true. The FBI planted an agent in Zhang’s organization. It’s also true you rounded him up. Finn saw the helicopter, heard the agent call my name. He was already suspicious of me. Then he added the pieces together.”
“I knew he was suspicious of you.”
“You weren’t?”