Sure they would.
"Maybe you should consider a career in acting," she muttered as they made their way through the parking lot toward the dark sedan that was parked just a few cars down from her unbadged CPD unit.
He chuckled. "You weren’t half bad yourself, Detective. And props for the plan. I have to admit, I was impressed."
"All this will probably cost me my career someday. I sure as hell hope it’s worth it."
She saw his jaw flex then, but he never turned to look at her. "I don’t know what my brother traded you for this. I won’t ask, and he’ll never tell me. But whatever it was, he’ll produce. You might look at him and see nothing but a mob boss, but he’s one of the most honorable men I’ve ever known. He plays the hand he was dealt, but he plays it with integrity."
She just nodded. They reached her car and she stopped, holding the key fob in one hand, her gaze scanning the parking lot as she tried to appear like she was having a casual conversation with a colleague.
"I’ll continue to do everything I can for Finn." She thought back to the information Cian had told her—Finn was nothing more than collateral, not what the Feds actually wanted. "Please tell your oldest brother that I still have the phone he provided. If he has questions about Finn, or needs to tell me something, he can call it."
Liam—or Connor—winked at her, then strode off to the dark sedan, climbing in the backseat before the car slid away into the traffic of the city.
Keira collapsed into her car and released the longest held breath of her life. Holy shit. What had she just done? The adrenaline rush trailed off and she found her hands shaking like leaves.
"God, Watson," she muttered to herself. "You’ve always been fucking crazy, but this was new levels."
She pulled her phone from her pocket and checked messages and emails to give her body a chance to calm down. The very first text she saw came from an unknown number. It read simply: Thank you.
Keira shook her head. "You are an enigma wrapped up in a mystery, Cian MacFarlane." She paused, remembering what Liam had said about him. "With a dash of honor on top." She started up the car and drove toward the office. She still had a huge list of MacFarlane associates to interview so her captain would think she was conducting the investigation the way he wanted. Such was the burden when you went off-script.
Twelve hours later, Keira walked into Finn’s apartment without knocking, as usual. He was sprawled on the living room sofa, shirtless, a pair of gray sweats slung low on his hipbones as he watched an MMA match. His side was bandaged and a slew of prescription medication bottles sat alongside a bottle of water on the coffee table nearby.
She didn’t have a good reason to be there. She didn’t need him to tell her where Cian was. Contrary to what she’d told the Feds, he didn’t know anything about Danny’s murder. But since he’d saved her life, she felt bonded to him in some way. She needed to know he was alive and well, wanted to be able to picture him in her mind—where he was, what he was doing.
She knew she shouldn’t, but she’d come to his apartment at eight pm at night anyway. The FBI were pissed the judge had let him return to house arrest. Finn was becoming a bigger headache than they’d counted on, and resources were diminishing. It was only one agent who stood on guard when she arrived, and he barely looked up from his phone before opening the door to let her inside.
"Well, if it isn’t my favorite CPD detective," Finn drawled, his gaze sliding over her from head to toe, and making said toes curl inside her boots.
"Mr. MacFarlane." She lingered somewhat awkwardly in the center of the room. Finn wasn’t usually so casual. Normally, he would have stood when she entered. And put on a shirt.
"Didn’t bring anyone with you this time?" he asked, his words somewhat slurred.
"Have you been drinking?" She looked around the room, searching for a bottle of booze.
"Nope." He shifted, sitting up slowly as he winced. "But the painkillers are damn good."
Ah. Oxy. Yeah, that would do it.
"Okay. You’re not drunk, you’re high."
He arched an eyebrow and she saw the resemblance to his oldest brother again like a shadow across his face.
"Detective. I’ve never been high in my life. I took only the recommended dose of my painkillers, even after the agent outside suggested I should feel free to consume as many as I wanted. Now I’m in less pain, but not no pain, and that remaining pain is making it incredibly difficult for me to sleep. I’m tired. Not high."
Keira was still stuck back on the agent outside suggesting Finn should overdose on Oxycontin.
"He said that to you?" Her voice was incredulous. "He actually told you to overdose on the pain meds?"
Finn gave her a wry smile that told her everything she needed to know. "They’re not actually big fans of mine," he answered. "You know I’m just the bait. It’s Cian and Liam they want."
Yes. It was Cian and Liam everyone wanted. Finn was just collateral damage, and somehow, the longer she knew him, the more wrong that seemed.
"May I?" She gestured to the armchair adjacent to his sofa.
He nodded and she sat after removing her trench coat and laying it over the arm.
She lowered her voice then, leaning forward, arms resting on her knees. Finn subtly scooted closer on the sofa, one arm wrapped protectively around his middle, across all the bandages.
The TV was a background buzz that helped mask their conversation, and they were close enough that Keira could smell him. Some sort of citrus shower gel, clean hair, the adhesive of his bandages. Her insides tightened, and her chest fluttered. She ignored it all as best she could, even as her gaze was pinned to the smooth muscles and golden skin of his chest.
"Did it help?" she asked quietly. "Seeing him today?"
He watched her, a lock of hair falling over his left eye. She had to consciously stop herself from touching it, smoothing it off his face.
"It did," he finally answered. "I know they’re okay now. That helps."
"You also know your brother is going to get you out of this, don’t you?" She knew she wasn’t allowed to tell Finn how, but she wanted him to know it would happen.
"I always knew that, Detective." He gave her a soft smile and her insides turned from tight to molten in a flash. Damn him. Damn the sexy, vulnerable, bad sad boy thing he had going on.
"And do you feel like your debt is paid?" he asked, his gaze roaming over her face.
She wanted it to be. She wanted nothing more than to be able to walk away feeling as though she’d repaid him for risking his life to save hers. She ought to. She’d violated her ethics and her oath as a police officer. She’d risked her career, whatever little respect she’d managed to build with the CPD, her father’s legacy.
But something inside of her wouldn’t let go. Of him. Of the bond she now felt, of the obligation.
"I’m not sure," she answered. Then she sighed. "I’m not sure I’ll ever feel it’s repaid."
His expression was closed, but she saw his hand open then close in a tight fist. His voice turned rough. "You don’t owe me anything. You’ll ruin your career if you keep it up. You took too big a risk."
"I had no idea you cared, Mr. MacFarlane," she said lightly.
"Stop." His tone was full of warning. "Don’t pretend you don’t feel it, too."
She swallowed, suddenly overcome with it—a mixture of disbelief and desire. How could it be? How could she feel this way about him? Why couldn’t it be anyone but him?
"We can’t…" Her voice faded away because she didn’t know what she wanted to say. We can’t. But I want to. We shouldn’t. But I might anyway.
"I’m not here to ruin your life, Detective." He shifted further away on the sofa, his gaze darting to the front door.
"Maybe you should let me make my own choices about my life," she snapped back impulsively.
That eyebrow arched again, but he didn’t say anything else.
"Sorry. You confuse me," she muttered.
"Ditto
." He gave her a small smile.
"I’m going to have to put your brother in jail and you’re going to hate me then," she finally confessed. "So that’ll end any confusion."
"Why?" he asked. "You still think he killed Danny?"
"I know he did."
Finn’s eyes narrowed. "So that’s why you agreed to smuggle Liam in? Cian confessed to Danny’s murder?"
Dammit. Finn was too perceptive by half. She didn’t answer, just held his gaze. One side of his lips twisted in a parody of a smile.
"Detective. You don’t know my brother very well. Let me explain something about him. He will sacrifice anything. Any. Thing. To protect us. He’ll give up his freedom, his reputation, his safety—even his life—if he thinks it will keep one of us safe."
He looked lost for a moment, devastated and hopeless all at once.
"Cian, Liam, Connor, and I only ever had each other. No other friends. Just guards and soldiers and our father on our backs twenty-four seven. Then, a few months ago, Cian fell in love. She’s the only reason I’m still in custody. He has to help her first. Once he does, he’ll do anything—say anything—to get me released."
"You’re telling me, if he were to confess to killing Danny, it might not be true?"
"Detective," Finn said, his face as serious as she’d ever seen it. "I’m telling you my brother would say anything to protect me. Even confess to murder."
* * *
She stared at him, and his damn heart just knotted up. Why now? he wondered. Why her? He’d spent his whole adult life missing the kind of attachment, the kind of desire that he’d seen other men have for a woman. Of course, he found plenty of women attractive. And some of them he’d liked, as well. The combination of a sexy woman who was fun to be around was something he’d encountered a handful of times over the years.
But he’d never felt drawn to someone. As if he wanted to be with her all the time, not just found her diverting. And now that it had finally happened, it was the one person he couldn’t be with, at a time when he had no bandwidth for anything other than being ready when Cian sprung him. Because Liam had told him, "he’ll have you out of the country in a flash." He wasn’t going to be staying in Chicago. He wasn’t going to be able to come back home. And Keira was always going to be here. Where he couldn’t.
"Dammit!" Keira whispered. "He played me. He played me and now I’m no closer to solving this than I was two days ago."
Her distress was almost more than Finn could handle. He’d consider confessing to the damn murder himself, except it was logistically impossible for him to have done it and Keira knew that.
"I don’t know what he meant or didn’t," he consoled. "I just said he would lie about anything if it benefitted me." Finn couldn’t believe he was seriously consoling a cop by reassuring her his brother might have committed a murder. He was walking a dangerous line, and he needed to step away from it.
"I have to solve this case. I need a conviction." Her voice was so desperate it made him ache in his very bones.
Without thinking, he moved forward onto his knees in front of her. His side screamed in pain, but he gritted his teeth and ignored it.
"Hey." He cupped her face in one hand. "Why is this so important?"
She gazed at him, her gray eyes like liquid diamonds, and he felt her breath on his face, warm and soft.
"I’m not sure." Her voice was a fluttering of birds’ wings.
"Yes, you are," he instructed. "Tell me."
Her gaze dropped and he waited, his hand sliding away from her face, but down her arm until he found her hand and held it solidly in his own.
"I spent my whole life watching him—my father. He was famous, the best detective CPD ever had. And it was all he ever cared about. The job. The cases. I barely even knew him before he was murdered, but I knew that I wanted to be just like him. And now I’m here, and no one thinks I can do it."
Her voice hardened, steel lacing through it. "No one thinks I have what he had. They dismiss me and they belittle me, and I have to prove them wrong." She looked him in the eye. "Do you understand? I can’t show him what I can do, but I can show them, and that’s the next best thing."
Did he understand feeling undervalued by the people who he was supposed to be a part of? The need to prove you were as much a part of something as everyone else? Hell yes. He’d never fit the image of mobster that others wanted—his father, the MacFarlane soldiers. Even his brothers viewed him as different. They didn’t think he was as strong or as hard as the rest of them. They loved him and respected him, but they didn’t think he was like them. So yes, he got it. More than she could ever imagine.
And cops were just as hard and judgmental as the men he’d been raised with. He understood that. A young, female detective wasn’t going to get any respect until she’d solved her first big case. She needed a win. And he wanted her to have one. He also knew he could help her get it. He was damn good at what he did. No coroner or detective in CPD knew more about physical evidence and murder than Finn.
But, he realized, Cian might have actually killed Danny. Finn knew that as clearly as he knew his own name, and he sure as hell couldn’t help Keira prove it. The thing about evidence, however, was that it could be interpreted in all sorts of ways, and as much as he didn’t want to mislead Keira, if he could help her make an arrest that wasn’t Cian, maybe it didn’t matter.
"There’s more riding on this than just the conviction. I get that,” he finally said. “Why don’t you tell me what the evidence is so far?"
He watched as she considered that. And just because he could, he leaned closer to her, inhaling the scent of her skin, watching the turn of her lips.
"Why?" she finally answered noncommittally.
"Because I know things that can help you," he said, finally giving in and pressing his lips to hers for just a moment. "But first, you have to help me stand up because I’m not sure I can on my own."
Her cheeks turned pink, and then she began to laugh as she grasped him under the elbows and gently helped him to his feet, joining him as he stood. He coughed, then winced at the pain.
"Christ, it’s amazing how much something so minor can hurt."
"You must be exhausted," she said, still grasping one of his arms. "Why don’t I help you to the bed, then we can talk about the evidence."
He consented and she walked him to his room where she pulled back the covers and he climbed in slowly, resting against the brushed metal headboard as she dragged in a chair and sat facing him.
"I know things," he began. "Things about physical evidence and murders…"
Chapter 12
Cian stood staring at the empty inside of the small concrete block bunker. It was the fourth property on their list, numbers one, two, and three yielding nothing. The mattress was tossed off the bed, the cover stained with streaks of fresh blood. The frame, meanwhile, was ajar, the bolts that had held it to the floor scattered around the room.
Liam stood in the doorway, a scrap of bloody fabric in his hand.
"Okay, he’s a step ahead, but not ten steps anymore. We’re going to find him," he told Cian.
Cian squeezed his eyes shut, head bowed as pain sliced through him clear to his toes. He breathed through his nose, the scent of blood and sweat and Lila assaulting him like a slap across the face.
He wasn’t going to fucking make it. He was so tired, he felt the exhaustion to his bones, an ache that was relentless. All he wanted to do was lie down somewhere and let everything stop. He didn’t care what happened to him in a week or a month or a year. He just wanted the people he loved safe so he could stop.
He leaned his head against the hard, bare wall, a shuddering breath rolling through him.
"Hey." Liam’s hand came down on his shoulder. Firm, strong, and so damn familiar it was like an extension of his own body. "You can’t give up. You know I have a gut that’s never been wrong. We’re close. Very close. And she’s alive."
Cian nodded because he wasn’t able to speak. He
gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. Willing the hopelessness to pass so he could harness the rage he needed to finish this.
"Now we go back to the list," Liam continued, squeezing the back of Cian’s neck before his hand dropped away. "We only have six more properties. Let’s get moving and finish this.”
Pushing off the wall, Cian looked at that flimsy mattress again. "He’s beating her," he said, his voice so rough it was nearly broken.
"But not fatally," Liam added. "There would be a lot more blood. And Lila’s as tough as Katya. She’ll fight him every step of the way."
"What if he…" Cian’s voice faded away, the horror of it making his stomach lurch.
"You have to stop imagining the what ifs. Remember who she is. She’s a fucking genius. And he’s not." Then he stepped closer, his mouth near Cian’s ear. "And when you find him, you’re going to make him pay. He’ll never touch her again."
"He’ll never touch anyone again," Cian said, rallying at the thought.
"Let’s go get her."
"Okay," Cian agreed. "Let’s do it."
* * *
It was several hours later when the Feds caught him, and all Cian could think was that he was possibly the most unlucky son of a bitch on the planet. And also the dumbest. He and Liam were down to the last three properties, going on twenty hours with no sleep, and the urgency of the situation was like sandpaper against his skin.
He’d managed to evade the Feds for three weeks, allowing them to hold Finn in his place, sleeping in the daylight, moving from safe house to safe house every twelve hours, dressing incognito, using only a handful of his most trusted men. But then he’d stopped at Banshee to grab another stack of cash from the safe. He’d been in a hurry to get to the next property on the list, frantic with thoughts about Lila being beaten or worse, images of her small, broken body filling his head.
Liam had warned him, but Cian had insisted, walking to Banshee from a nearby fleabag hotel where they were holing up for a few hours while the men changed out cars and grabbed everyone some food. He’d gone in through the back of his nightclub, wearing sweats and a dark baseball cap, ragged boots on his feet. He looked like a fucking homeless man and they’d still made him.
Touch of Dark: Dublin Devils 3 Page 10