Page 12

CHAPTER 12

MAEVE

"F our fucking hours." I check my watch again and kick at the leg of the waiting room chair. "What's taking so long?"

The clock on the wall ticks another minute. My fifth cup of vending machine coffee burns my tongue, but I drink it anyway. Anything to keep moving, keep from thinking about Declan on that operating table.

"Bullet wounds get infected. Who knew rolling around in decades old dead fish wasn’t sanitary?" I mutter, pacing the empty waiting room. When I found him, this morning burning with fever, his shoulder red and swollen, I lost my shit. Fuck Donovan back-alley doctors. I dragged his ass to a real hospital.

Finn leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching the entrance like someone's about to storm the place with guns blazing.

"You need to sit down," he says. "You're making me nervous."

"I need to do something, or I'll lose my mind." I crush the empty coffee cup and throw it at the trash can. I miss.

My phone buzzes with a text from Jack, who's watching Conor at the Kerry house.

Everything's fine. The kid wants to know when you're coming back.

I type a quick response.

Tomorrow if everything goes well. Let him play video games until bedtime.

"Any word from Cormac about Siobhan?" I ask Finn.

"She's been put away for now." His face gives nothing away.

"What does that mean?"

"It means you don't need to worry about her anymore."

I want to push for details but hold back. The less I know about Donovan family justice, the better. I'm still trying to process the fact that Declan asked Cormac not to kill his sister after what she did.

The doctor appears in the waiting room doorway. "Family of Declan Donovan?"

I rush over. "How is he?"

"The surgery went well. We cleaned out the infection and repaired the damaged tissue. He's in recovery now."

Relief washes through me. "When can I see him?"

"In about thirty minutes. A nurse will come get you." He glances at Finn hovering behind me. "Just one visitor at a time."

"I'll wait here," Finn says. "He won't want to see me first."

I follow the nurse to Declan's room an hour later. The sight of him knocks the wind out of me—pale as the sheets, IV dripping antibiotics, monitors tracking every heartbeat. I've seen hundreds of patients like this at the clinic, but it's different when it's him.

I check his chart at the foot of the bed. His vitals look stable, thank God.

"Hey," I say, taking his hand.

His eyes flutter open, unfocused at first, then finding me. "Maeve." His voice is rough from the anesthesia. "Conor?"

"He's fine. Safe with Jack in Kerry."

"Good." He squeezes my hand weakly. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Making me come to a real hospital."

I laugh, the sound almost hysterical with relief. "You were burning up. What was I supposed to do, dump you in an ice bath?"

"Cormac would have."

"I'm not Cormac."

Declan's eyes drift closed. "No. You're better."

He falls asleep, hand still clutching mine. I watch him breathe, the steady rise and fall of his chest. There's a moment when the world narrows to just this—his hand in mine, knowing he's alive.

I stay until the nurse kicks me out, promising to come back in the morning.

Finn drives me to a hotel near the hospital. "Cormac wants you to call him," he says as we pull up to the entrance.

"Too bad."

"He just wants an update on Declan."

"He can call the hospital." I get out of the car. "I'm taking a shower and going to bed. I'll see you at eight tomorrow."

I fall onto the hotel bed fully clothed, too fucking tried to even kick off my shoes. I haven't slept more than two hours at a stretch since this nightmare started.

My phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number. I open it and freeze.

The picture shows Conor asleep in his bed at the Kerry house, taken through the window from outside.

Your son will pay for Siobhan's punishment.

I call Jack immediately.

"Everything okay?" he asks.

"Check on Conor. Right now." My voice shakes.

"He's asleep. I just looked in on him ten minutes ago."

"Check the outside of the house. Someone's there."

I hear rustling as Jack moves. "What's going on?"

"Just do it."

I wait, heart pounding, as Jack checks the house. After what feels like hours, he returns to the phone.

"All clear. No one's here. What did you see?"

I stare at the photo again. "Someone sent me a picture of Conor sleeping. Taken from outside his window."

"That's impossible. I've been watching the monitors all night."

"Check the security footage."

I hear clicking as Jack reviews the cameras. "Nothing. No one's been near the house."

"The picture was just sent to me, Jack. Someone's there."

"I'm telling you, the security system hasn't picked up anything." He pauses. "Send me the photo."

I do. His breath catches when he sees it.

"That's... that has to be from earlier today. I'll wake Conor, move him to a different room."

"Call Finn. Tell him what's happening."

I hang up and pace the hotel room, debating whether to go back to the hospital. If someone's threatening Conor because of what happened to Siobhan, they might target Declan too.

My phone rings—Finn.

"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 is my problem 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."

Back in Declan's room, I find him sitting up, looking at his phone. "Cormac's handling Siobhan," he says. "She'll be out of our lives for good."

"What does that mean? Is she..." I can't finish the question.

"No. I told you, I asked him not to kill her. She's going to a facility. Somewhere she can't hurt anyone."

"A mental hospital?"

"Something like that."

I sit on the edge of his bed. "You really think that will hold her?" I don’t think I want to know.

"Cormac will make sure of it." He puts down his phone. "I want us to go back to Dublin when I'm released. To my mother's house. Start over."

The thought of returning to Dublin, to normal life, seems impossible now. "Let's talk about that when you're stronger."

"I'm fine." He cups my face. "I want to be a family, Maeve. You, me, Conor. A real family."

The sincerity in his eyes makes my chest hurt. "Declan..."

"I know it won't be easy. I know I have to earn your trust back. But I want to try. If you'll let me."

I lean forward and kiss him softly. "Let's get you better first. Then we'll figure out the rest."

He pulls me closer, deepening the kiss. His other hand slides into my hair, holding me to him like he's afraid I'll disappear.

"I love you," he murmurs against my lips. "I never stopped."

Three words I'm not ready to say back, not yet. Not with threats still lurking in the shadows.

"Rest," I tell him. "I'll be back tonight."

I leave the hospital and find a coffee shop across the street. Pulling out my phone, I stare at the photo of Conor again. The threat is clear .

Your son will pay for Siobhan's punishment.

Anger replaces fear. I've spent six years protecting my son from the Donovan family's violence. I won't let it touch him now.

I call a number I never thought I'd use again—Ryan Byrne, Declan's father's old associate.

"Maeve Brennan," he answers. "This is unexpected."

"I need information, Ryan."

"About?"

"Who would want revenge for Siobhan Donovan?"

A pause. "Why ask me instead of your boyfriend?"

"Because Declan's in the hospital, and my son is being threatened."

Another pause. "Come to Quinn's in an hour. And don't bring any Donovan men with you."

I hang up and text Finn that I'm going shopping for clothes for Declan. He offers to drive me, but I insist I need time alone.

Quinn's is empty when I arrive. Ryan sits in a back booth, nursing a whiskey even though it's barely noon. He looks older than I remember, his hair more silver than black now.

"You look good, Maeve," he says as I slide into the booth. "Motherhood suits you."

"Cut the shit, Ryan. I need to know who's after my son."

He sighs. "Straight to business. You've changed."

"Having a child threatened will do that."

Ryan takes a sip of his drink. "Siobhan has a lover. Andrei Petrov. Russian. Ambitious. Not a man you want to cross." Who on God’s earth would want to be with her? She’s like a feral cat, you can’t keep her.

"And he's after Conor?"

"If Siobhan's been 'contained,' as I hear, then yes. Andrei will want revenge. He is an eye for an eye kind of guy."

"Conor's innocent. He's six years old."

Ryan shrugs. "Petrov doesn't care. To him, hurting your child is hurting Declan. And hurting Declan is hurting Cormac."

"Where do I find him?"

Ryan's eyebrows rise. "What are you going to do? Walk up to a Russian mobster and have a chit-chat? Girl, he will kill you."

"I need to talk to him. Make him understand that Conor isn't part of this."

"You think you can reason with a Russian mob boss?" He laughs. "Girls really are stupid. Conor is a part of this. He is a Donovan, and that man will not listen to you."

"Where is he, Ryan?"

He studies me for a long moment. "He owns a nightclub in Temple Bar. The Red Star. But you'd be insane to go there. You won’t get what you want."

"I'm going to try."

"Declan won't let you within a mile of Petrov."

"Declan doesn't know. And he isn't going to."

Ryan's eyes widen. "You're playing a dangerous game, Maeve."

"I'm protecting my son."

He scribbles an address on a napkin. "If you're determined to do this, at least go during the day. Fewer men around. And for God's sake, bring a gun."

I take the napkin. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me. If Declan finds out I helped you, he'll kill me." I know he will.

I stand to leave.

"Maeve," Ryan calls after me. "Be careful. These people don't see a mother. They see a means to an end."

I nod and walk out, the address burning a hole in my pocket.

On the drive back to the hospital, another text comes through. A new photo—Conor in the panic room, playing with Legos. How they got this image, I have no idea.

Nowhere is safe.

I slam on the brakes and pull the car over, nearly hitting a lamppost. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I punch the steering wheel. The panic room. Jack's fucking impenetrable panic room. They can see right into it. My heart pounds so hard I can't breathe.

I call Jack. "Get Conor out of there. Now."

"What? Why?"

"They can see him in the panic room." I forward the new photo. "Take him somewhere else. Anywhere. Just go."

"Jesus Christ," Jack breathes when he sees the image. "I'll call Cormac."

"No. Just get my son out. I'll handle the rest."

I hang up and pull back onto the road, my decision made. I won't be telling Declan about this. Not yet. Not until I've made sure our son is safe.

The Red Star nightclub looks like a shithole, I'll bet the owner is a real piece of work too. He must be a special kind of fucked up to love Siobhan—she's certifiable.