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"Jack told me about the photo. Stay where you are. I'm posting men at the hospital and sending reinforcements to Kerry."

"I should go back to Declan."

"No. We don't know who sent that or what they want. You're safer at the hotel."

"And Conor? Is he safe?"

"Jack moved him to the panic room. No windows, steel door, separate ventilation system. No one's getting to him."

I sink onto the bed. "What about the photo? How did they get it?"

"It could be old. Or doctored. Let me handle this."

After he hangs up, I stare at the photo again. The timestamp shows it was taken an hour ago. Conor's wearing the pajamas I put out for him yesterday.

This is real. This is happening.

I check the time—nearly midnight. Too late to call Declan's hospital room, and he needs rest anyway. This ismyproblem to solve.

I wake early and head to the hospital before Finn arrives. Declan looks better, some color returned to his face. He smiles when he sees me.

"The doctor says I can leave tomorrow."

I force a smile. "That's great."

He studies my face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just tired."

"Liar. What happened?"

I consider telling him about the photo but stop myself. He's already been shot, spent days as a hostage, and is recovering from surgery. The last thing he needs is more stress.

"Just worried about you," I say. "The infection was bad."

He takes my hand. "I'm fine."

We're interrupted by Finn arriving with coffee. "How's the patient?"

"Ready to get out of here," Declan says.

I pull Finn into the hallway while Declan talks to his doctor. "Any news?"

"Nothing yet. Jack says Conor's fine, though cranky about being stuck in the panic room."

"I want to go to him."

"Let's wait until Declan's released. We'll all go together."

"And what if whoever sent that photo tries something before then?"

"They won't get past security. I've got six men at the Kerry house now."

I nod, but anxiety still churns in my stomach. "Don't tell Declan about this. Not yet."

"He'll be pissed when he finds out."

"Let me worry about that."