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There’s a brisk tap on the door, and Fiona enters with a doctor. As he approaches the table, we get to our feet. With a sigh, the doctor rubs his eyes.
“We’re pretty sure he’ll pull through,” he says. “Multiple stab wounds, a head injury, a lot of blood loss.”
“Stab wounds?” I’m not sure what I expected. Bullet wounds, maybe? It’s implausible Finn would let anyone be close enough to knife him without doing damage himself.
“Only major injury from those was a collapsed lung. Except for the blood loss. He must have been unconscious for a while.”
It wasn’t the unconscious part that caused the blood loss; it was the staggering around like an idiot that did it. Lorcan and I haven’t discussed how I found him.
He takes my hand and squeezes it. “When can we see him?”
“As soon as he’s awake, I’ll have Fiona come escort you.” The doctor hesitates at the door, Fiona at his shoulder. “The head injury is still under assessment. We suspect a measure of memory loss. We don’t know how much or for how long that’ll last.”
My heart kicks in my chest, and a spark of hope strikes in me. “How certain are you about the memory loss?” I glance at Lorcan. “It would be helpful if we knew who did this.” But so much more helpful if Finnneverknew.
The doctor purses his lips. “It’s not uncommon with an injury like his. Difficult to say until he wakes up. We’ll run more tests at that point.”
No sooner have they left then there’s another knock on the door, and she pops her head back in. “One of your men is here?”
“Let him in.” Lorcan waves his hand.
Sean slips in, appearing harried and exhausted. Lack of sleep for all of us is taking its toll.
“What do you have for me?”
“We’re still not sure. Maybe the Russians? There’re the only ones we think have the manpower to pull this off. The only other thing that’s kinda troubling is well, um, a helicopter might have landed? Does that make sense to you?”
Lorcan looks at his feet for a brief moment and then stares at Sean. “Might have landed? We’re not in the land ofmighthere, we’re in the land of surety.”
“It’s the pattern on the ground.” Sean raises his hands. “I don’t know. We tried to google the pictures we took. Our best guess is a helicopter landed.”
Lorcan nods, and my gut twists. I wanted Malik out, but a helicopter landing on their property isn’t an easy thing to explain. And the fact we didn’t hear it means the FBI used a stealth chopper. Impossible to ignore.
“After I’ve seen my brother, I’ll come home and look myself. We can’t chase down what we don’t know for sure.”
With a nod, Sean ducks out the door, and both of us stare at the game. I sink into my chair and gather the game pieces. My fingers toy with my cards. I should be thinking about whose turn it is, but all I can focus on is the inexplicable helicopter. It’s a massive complication.
“Was he unconscious when you found him?” Lorcan hasn’t sat down.
My heart booms, and my brain ticks through what to say. Whether Finn remembers could sink me based on which version of events I tell. “Yes.”
“Does this helicopter business make sense to you?”
I shake my head and stay focused on the game board between us. When I look up, I’m confident I’ve shuttered my emotions. “Who has those sorts of resources? Not the Zhangs, not the O’Malleys, not the Browns, or the Simmons. Would the Byrne brothers interfere?” The names I’m rattling off are impossible culprits even without my inside information. None of them have the funds.
Lorcan puts his hands on his hips and rubs his lips together. My fingers itch to smooth the crease across his brow. “There are two legitimate options I can come up with and both spell trouble.”
“And those would be?” I toss my cards onto the table and rise so we’re almost eye to eye.
“I’d rather not say.”
“I can’t help you if you don’t share your logic.”
“I’m not asking for your help with this.”
I straighten, not even having to feign offense. It’s genuine.
Lorcan stares at me and then away, his hands still on his hips. “It’s not whether you’re capable of helping or trust or… any of that. I don’t want you dragged into either scenario.”