“Sh.” She leaned in and cupped my face, smiling sadly. “Go to sleep.”
I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, still trying to fight off the darkness that grabbed hold of me. If I succumbed to it, she’d be gone, and I’d never see her again. That was the way it needed to be, but right now, I didn’t want to accept that. I didn’t want to let go. “You’re beautiful, Sky. Too beautiful for a guy like me . . .”
The last word away slurred into nothing. Son of a bitch. I was falling into that damn black hole of unconsciousness, and I wasn’t going to be able to fight my way out. She ran her thumb over my jaw, and pressed her lips to my forehead tenderly. “You take care, Scotty Donahue.”
I opened my mouth to ask her to stay.
Wait. No. To go. She had to go.
Right?
But before I could say the words, I slipped into unconsciousness. When I opened my eyes again, I blinked into the bright room, and she was nowhere to be seen. So I closed my eyes, letting the darkness claim me completely. Every time I woke up, someone was always there. Chris. Brian. Tate. Agent Torres, wearing street clothes. Even Agent Warren had stopped by, in disguise. But not Skylar.
She didn’t come back.
Five days later, I forced my eyes open again, with a grunt, and searched the room for her beautiful face like I always did. Instead of soft strawberry blonde hair and softer lips, I found Brian. He sat beside me with his dirty Nikes resting on the side of my bed. He had a gossip magazine opened, and was apparently learning the reasons behind the divorce of a Hollywood It Couple. When he heard me move, he lifted his head.
I stared at him.
He stared back.
“You’re awake,” he finally said.
“Yeah,” I croaked. I licked my parched lips. “Water?”
“Sure.” Brian set down the magazine. It had a Kardashian on the front. I could never remember which was which. “We weren’t sure you were going to make it.”
Neither was I.
I hadn’t even had a chance to tell the DEA that my cover was blown. They knew I was hurt, and more than likely, they had someone discreetly watching over me. Making sure I was safe. If they knew I was in danger, I’d be out of here. Now that I was conscious, I should probably tell them.
Maybe I could get relocated to Georgia, where Lucas was.
But then Tate popped into my mind, and I forgot all about that shit.
If I let the DEA reassign me, if I ran, Tate might go after Chris or Lucas. It would be my fault. If anyone was going to go down, it should be me. I was the one that got us into this mess.
Brian handed me the cup, and I struggled to sit up straight. “Thanks.”
“Sure,” Brian said, walking over to the window and looking outside. Snowflakes fell from the sky, drifting down slowly. “You’ve been out for a long time. Missed a lot of shit.”
“Fill me in?”
“DEA raided Bitter Hill before we could kill them all. Our guys managed to set the fire, and get a few shots off, but when the DEA swooped in, they scattered. The feds must have been watching Bitter Hill, they got there so fast.”
“What happened after that?” I asked tensely.
“After our guys ran, every single Bitter Hill member there was arrested, since the DEA had grounds to enter their clubhouse and there was a shitload of drugs on hand. Street-level dealers were going to restock after the meeting. We’ll see what happens after the DA gets through with them, but for now, we don’t have to worry about Bitter Hill.”
I collapsed against the pillow. “Thank God.”
“Yeah.” He turned back to me, his jaw hard. “Frankie and Tommy are missing, though. We haven’t seen them since the shoot-out. We’re not sure what that means.”
Well, shit. “Think they ran for it when the shooting started, and are too scared to show their faces? Or that one or both of them are moles?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Brian shrugged.
I looked out the window again. “What’s Tate thinking?”
“He’s as confused as the rest of us are. None of us are sure what to think right now. I can’t imagine either of them running out of fear. But when shit gets real . . . who knows? Maybe they panicked.”
I set my empty cup down and rubbed my jaw. I had a full-on beard going. “Shit.”
“Yeah.” He crossed his arms. “You talk a lot in your sleep.”
I stiffened. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” He turned back to me. “You called for her a lot.”
I forced my face to remain blank. “Who? My ma?”
“We both know who you called for, and it wasn’t your ma.” He locked gazes with me, flexing his jaw. “You better hope you didn’t do that in front of Tate.”
I stiffened. “He was here?”
“Of course he was. You saved his life out there.” Brian came back to my side of the bed, sitting down again, and picked up his magazine. “He’s not one to forget a debt owed.”
“I was just doing my job.”
Brian contemplated that. “You saved my life, too. Shielded me from the bullets when I was down.”
I eyed his shoulder. “How’s the arm?”
“Fine. Just a few stitches before I was sent on my way by Doc Hollins.” He glanced down at my leg. “Nothing like you. You took a hit, man. I’ve killed people and I never saw so much blood in my life.”
I grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You would.”
I took another sip of water.
“She was here, too. Every day.”
I stiffened. “She was?”
“Yeah. She’d sit and do her homework, or talk to you like you could hear her.” He flipped open the magazine. After a little bit of silence on both our ends, he pointed to the page. “These people, they lead charmed lives. Great looks, lots of money, they’re always smiling. Falling in love. Being normal. I wonder what that feels like.”
I rubbed my jaw again. “Being normal?”
“Being happy.”
I knew what happy felt like. I’d found it in Skylar’s arms, and now I felt its absence every damn time I opened my eyes. “I don’t know, man.”
“Me either.” He flipped the page. “Actually, I do. I was happy once. There was this girl. She had the prettiest blonde hair, and a laugh that sounded like a fucking song.”
Blinking, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was still sleeping. Brian never opened up like this, and he never talked about his past. “What happened?”
“I joined the Sons, and I left her behind.” He turned the page again. “Last I heard, she was married with two kids. Husband’s a stockbroker or something.”
“Sounds boring,” I said.
“Sounds normal.” He shut the magazine and tossed it on the table that was beside my bed. “After the shit we’ve been through, I could use a little bit of normal. Maybe that’s why Frankie and Tommy are gone. Maybe they wanted some normal, too.”
“Maybe.”
Brian stood. “I gotta go. Got a few errands. Oh, and heads-up? Tate’s calling a meeting as soon as you’re out of here. Not sure what for.”
“Okay,” I said, keeping my tone even. “Keep me posted.”
“I will.” He shrugged into his leather jacket, watching me closely. “You know, Tate doesn’t forget a favor, or a debt owed, but neither do I. Remember that.”
I had the feeling he knew more than he was letting on. Exactly what that was? I didn’t have a damn clue. But I had a feeling it was something. “Thanks, man.”
“Sure thing.”
He walked out, and I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. I was alone for no more than thirty seconds before I heard footsteps. I opened my eyes. “What did you forget?”
“Nothing,” Agent Warren said, walking in. He wore a hoodie and a pair of basketball shorts. “You
’re alive.”
I sat up straighter, running my hands through my hair. “Yeah.”
He came inside and sat down, resting his elbows on his knees. “We’ve had people with you, watching. Nurses, security officers, aides. We switched it up to avoid suspicion, but you’ve never been alone.”
“I figured.” I gestured to my leg. “Not that I’d have noticed anyway. This took me down pretty hard.”
“I saw,” he answered dryly. “Agent Torres was pleased with your work, despite the snafu at the clubhouse that held you guys back.”
Snafu. It had been a full-on motherfucking ambush. “No one heard whispers of a leak? Because it seems pretty damn coincidental that Bitter Hill used the Sons’ plan against them.”
“I know.” He rubbed his jaw, watching me over his fingers. “It’s weird, isn’t it?”
“Very.” I cocked my head. “Almost like there was a mole.”
We considered one another for a few beats, and then Warren said, “Yeah. That’s one possibility, I suppose.”
“Then again, Bitter Hill didn’t know the DEA was going to raid the place. Otherwise, they’d have made sure there was nothing to find. They only knew enough to set up the counterattack.”
Warren nodded slowly. “I noticed you referred to the Sons as ‘them.’ You no longer consider yourself a Son?”
“I never really was.” I rubbed my temples. All this thinking, fresh out of my practically comatose state, hurt, but I realized that I’d stopped thinking of myself as a Son the day they killed Bobby, with me standing there silently, letting it happen. “I’m an undercover agent, not one of them.”
“Yeah.” Warren chuckled. “In this world, you never know where someone’s loyalty lies. With undercover work like yours, it’s even harder to sort out.”
“Why are you here, instead of Torres?” I asked slowly.
“He’s got a meeting with the interagency cooperation liaison all day. A new case came up.” He shrugged. “So I came in his place. Now that you’re awake, we can ask if your cover was compromised. We tried to lay low, to keep you clean, but your informant called us . . .” He shrugged. “We have plans in place if you need extraction. There’s an opening in the Dallas office, and they’d be happy to have you.”
For a second, I let myself picture it. A life away from here, where I could be normal. There was a lot of other non-undercover work in the DEA. And in this fantasy, I had a woman in my life. A woman who was, without doubt, Skylar Daniels.
That’s where the daydream ended.
“No. My cover is good.” I forced a smile. “I’ll be fine.”
Agent Warren looked less than convinced, and for the second time in as many visitors, I suspected he knew more than he let on. Everyone seemed to be hiding something from me. “Are you sure? Because if you’re not, and they do some housecleaning, we might not be able to help you in time.”
I thought of Lucas, and how happy he’d been when he and Heidi drove off.
Of Chris, when he rested his head on Molly’s chest, clinging to her after she’d been hurt.
And Skylar, lying in my bed, her head on my chest as she slept.
I might not know who to trust, or what the hell to do next, but I knew one thing. Tate Daniels was a man of his word. If he swore to leave my family alone, he would, and I would give up anything to make sure they were safe . . . including my life. I’d already lost Sky. So, really, what was the threat of a little bit of torture and, ultimately, death when compared with that kind of sacrifice? If death was my fate, then so be it. I’d accept it. I’d be the hero one more time.
We all died eventually.
It was the only certain thing in life.
“I’m sure,” I said, my tone final. “I’m in no danger at all.”
CHAPTER 24
SKYLAR
I watched Tate as I sipped my coffee. It had been almost two weeks since he told me the truth. He’d been begging me to give him a chance to explain, and after lots of thought and a desire to let him wallow in his misery for a while, I finally answered the phone when he called at nine this morning, asking to meet me at one in the afternoon. I’d hoped it was Scotty finally returning my call, but nope.
He was back to pretending I didn’t exist, apparently.
While he’d been in the hospital, I visited him every day. During those visits, he’d always wake up long enough to grab my hand and hold tight. But one day I showed up and I was denied entrance by a nurse who looked like she’d have no trouble taking me out. Scotty had taken me off the visitors’ list. I’d gotten nothing but radio silence from him since.
Guess he stopped seeing superheroes, and, in turn, stopped wanting to see me.
Scotty originally pushed me away because of Tate’s threats, but his reluctance to hear me out was creating a lot of self-doubt. Maybe Tate had just given Scotty the excuse he needed to walk away. Just look at my track record with men.
“I know you’re angry,” Tate started, pulling me out of my mournful thoughts. “And you have every reason to be.”
I set my mug down, clanking it on his dining room table. Opulence, wealth, and arrogance surrounded us, stifling me. I hated this house. It reminded me of his father. The bastard. “You think?”
“Yes,” he said, even though my question hadn’t really been a question. “I was trying to protect you.”
“By breaking us up.” I leaned back in the chair, crossing my arms. “Riiight.”
He pressed his lips together. “He’s a dangerous man. More dangerous than me.”
I scoffed. I couldn’t help it. “I think we both know that’s not true.”
“You’re wrong. He’s got secrets.” He pointed a finger down at the table, emphasizing his point. “He’s got so many damn secrets that his secrets have secrets.”
His warning struck close to home despite my anger, because Chris had pretty much said the same exact thing. “And you don’t?”
“Not like him.” He flattened his palm on the mahogany table. “You have no idea what the hell you’re getting into every time you walk up to his door.”
“So you keep saying.” I pursed my lips. “What secrets does he have that are so frigging dangerous to me? Huh?”
He tapped his fingers. “It’s not my place to say.”
“What?” I blinked. “Seriously?”
He reclined in his chair, crossing his arms. “Ask him if you want to know.”
I’d been trying. I failed to mention this, though, because it was none of Tate’s business. “Maybe I will.”
“All right.” He lifted a shoulder. “But I stand by my statement.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Which one?”
“He’s no good for you.”
I picked up my coffee again, blowing on it. “If you still feel that way, why come clean at all? Why tell me the truth?”
“Because I owe it to him. He saved my life.”
I swallowed hard. “He . . . did?”
“Yes.” Tate avoided my gaze. “And as he was passing out, he thought he was going to die, and he used his last breath to say something about you.”
“What did he say?” I asked breathlessly.
“Again, you’ll have to ask him.” A muscle in his jaw ticked. “I did the right thing. I came clean. I still don’t want you with him, so that’s all I’m going to say on the matter.”
I frowned.
“I don’t approve of him,” Tate repeated.
“Unfortunately for you, I don’t need your blessing or approval to love someone.” I stood, and a hot rage rushed through my veins. “I choose who or who not to love.”
He nodded. “I know.”
“Do you?” I shot back. “Do you really?”
He frowned.
“I know that you truly believe you were acting in my best interests, but you weren’t. None o
f this was for me—it was so you wouldn’t feel bad for introducing us in the first place. Because you did, and I fell in love with him, and then I was connected to a part of your life you so desperately wanted me away from. So you fixed it.”
“You’re right. I didn’t want you anywhere near the Sons.” He tightened his grip on his coffee mug, looking far too at home in the opulence that surrounded him. “I still don’t.”
“Well, too bad.” I hugged myself. “We don’t always get what we want. We should both know that by now. Dad taught us well.”
I stared out the window at the rolling lawns, sprawling forth from an elegant garden enclosed by ivy walls. I’d only known Scotty for a few weeks. A short blip on the radar of my life. But the connection we had, the completeness I’d felt when he held me in his arms, it was something I knew, I just knew, I’d never feel again. Not in a million years.
No matter how many times I told myself that it was okay, that loving him for even a short time had been a wild rollercoaster ride, and that it had to end eventually as all rides did, it still hurt. How easy had it been for Scotty to send me away? To write me off? To never see me again?
Why wasn’t he hurting, too?
Tate’s chair scraped the hardwood floors. He walked to the bar on the side of the room, picking up a bottle of Irish whiskey and walking over to his untouched coffee. He poured in a healthy shot, and lifted the bottle to me, cocking a brow.
I shook my head.
After capping the whiskey, he picked up his mug and said, “Look. I’m sorry for my part in this. Can you ever forgive me?”
No matter what happened between us, no matter what he did, he was my brother. Nothing would change that. Not even this big, fancy house I hated almost as much as I hated the man who used to own it. And not even the fact that Tate was becoming more and more like him with each passing moment. “I just need time.”
He nodded, his jaw tight. “Then I’ll give you time. But . . .” He cut off immediately, staring over my shoulder at something. “Yes, Miles?”
The butler came in, clearing his throat. “You have a guest, sir. He says you’re expecting him?”
He checked his watch, frowning. “He’s early. Send him in.”
Dare to Lie Page 23