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I swallowed down the acerbic reply sitting on my tongue and flashed my biggest 'go fuck yourself' smile. "And I was hoping for a face-to-face confrontation. I guess we'll both have to learn to live with disappointment."
"Live." she retorted, "now that's a funny choice of words."
"How about this? I'll give you twenty-four hours for the next clue. See, I can be generous."
"What's the clue.?" I gritted out.
Her high-pitched laughter bounced off the surrounding stone, grinding away the remainder of my patience.
"You'll find that out soon enough. See you in twenty-four."
I leaned Connor against the wall, which was only marginally cleaner than the floor, and swept my light around, looking for the camera or speaker.
Against the far wall, I noticed an area where the dust had been cleared away. It took less than a minute to find the small camera lodged in the red brick. The ancient stone crumbled as I slammed the butt of my flashlight against it repeatedly.
Pocketing the camera, I walked back to Connor and lifted her in my arms, just as the horn honked in the yard above, signaling Tierney's return.
Careful not to jostle her, I climbed the stairs. Eager to put some distance between myself and the creepy as fuck basement.
Tierney met me at the front door, her eyes drawn with worry as she took the pair of us in.
My heart hammered in my chest. I didn't usually get nervous, but the sheer mania in that woman's voice told me the only things off the table were rational and predictable. Blowing up my truck as we walked away from the house or shooting me in the head right now seemed to fit with her particular brand of crazy.
Reaching across Connor's body, I clicked the seatbelt in place and gently shut the door.
"Come on." Tierney called out as she scooted into the middle of the bench seat next to Connor. "Let's go. This place gives me the creeps."
One more look, my eyes sweeping over the aged surface of the long abandoned house before I slid behind the wheel. Backing out of the driveway, a flicker of movement caught my eye near the upstairs window.
I froze, my legs locked into place, holding the brake against the floor. Seconds later, a pair of sparrows flitted playfully in front of the window before flying back into the nearby willow.
"Everything ok?" she asked, her voice unsteady.
"Yeah." I said slowly, still not wholly convinced. "Just my eyes playing tricks on me, I guess."
The drive home was uneventful. Tierney and I were both silent, lost in the tangle of our own thoughts. Foreign emotions had taken up residence in my head and trickled down into my chest like blood from a fatal wound.
I didn't feel much. Mostly, just the burn of good whiskey or a beautiful woman bouncing on my cock. But these last few weeks, I had felt both the warmth of concern blooming in my chest and the cold shiver of fear. Not for myself, but for Tierney and now Connor. Hell, I even found myself feeling similar concern for the lads.
Cracks had been forming in the dam for weeks, the torrent threatening to break free and drown me. But with that one kiss, a simple touch. She calmed the raging storm.
Throughout these long hours of this so-called game, I found myself craving her touch more and more. She may be inexperienced when it came to relationships, but I wasn't far ahead of her.
We pulled through the gate, stopping in front of the door. It was closer to the hospital room than the garage was, something I would look into rectifying once this mess was over.
"Are you sure she doesn't need the hospital?" Tierney asked as I laid her on the bed.
"No." I said, shaking my head and offering her a half shrug. "No, I really don't know anything at this point."
"I need you." I murmured, not sure if I was ready for her to grasp the hidden meaning in my words. Not sure I was ready for it, either.
She nodded without hesitation. "Sure, name it."
Reaching into the cabinet near the door, I pulled out a handful of pristine white rags and laid them on the countertop before turning to face her again.
"I need you to help clean Connor up, and there's something I need to tell you." I said quietly, wetting the rags and laying them on a small rolling table she used when patching me up.
She dug through the drawer, finally pulling out an odd-looking pair of scissors, and began cutting away Connor's clothes.