by K. A. Tucker
Where is Rowen?
River’s not alone. An older couple occupy the space between his bed and the window. His parents, no doubt. The squat woman paces, wringing her hands nervously, her sable-colored hair a frizzy mess pinned on top of her head. The man, with a full head of coppery hair, sits in a chair, his hands folded over the handle of a cane. He appears older than the woman.
They’re people I never thought I’d meet. People I would never want to meet under circumstances such as these.
The man’s gaze catches me in the tiny window and his mouth begins moving. River’s on his feet immediately, a limp in his gait as he takes a few steps, then waves me in. “Amber!”
I push through the door. “Ivy called me. I came as fast as I could.” I freeze midway, feeling his parents’ eyes on me, unsure of what’s appropriate here. I know what I want to do: attach myself to his chest, kiss him senseless, and never let go.
Fortunately, River answers my question for me, enfolding me in his arms and burying his face into my neck.
“How are you?”
“I’ll be fine, aside from a concussion and a few bruises and cuts. I was behind the bar when it went off. We’re just waiting for them to discharge me.”
“Thank God.” I glance over at the empty bed, and then at Ivy, who seems to be hiding in a corner. “And Rowen?”
He swallows hard, and I feel it right down into the depths of my stomach. “Still in surgery.” Worry mars his handsome face. “It’s been twelve hours. All we know so far is that he took a lot of shrapnel. Doctors are trying to save his leg. Twelve hours seems like a long time, doesn’t it?”
Any surgery that lasts that long is serious, especially when it involves trauma like this. But he doesn’t need to hear that now. “I’ve seen plenty of surgeries last that long and the patients turn out just fine.” My own mother worked on Alex for over fourteen hours.
His slow, shaky exhale skates over my face, and then he finally nods. “Aengus is in critical care.”
All three brothers were caught in that bombing. All three could have been killed. “Was this because of him?” I whisper.
He simply nods.
Behind us, someone clears a throat. River’s arms fall, releasing me from their grip, enough that I can duck around him. “Hi, I’m Amber.” I close the distance and offer my hand to his mom first, and then his dad. They each take it in turn, answering with “Marion” and “Seamus” and tight smiles. Not because of their displeasure with me; I understand that. I’ve spent enough time around worried families in hospitals to not take it personally.
“You’re American?” River’s father asks.
“Yes.”
“Living in Ireland?”
“Just visiting.”
His green eyes dart to River’s, a quizzical look in them.
“She knows,” is all he says, pulling me back into his side. I happily meld against him.
“How long are ya here for, Amber?” his mother asks, her accent so thick I have to process the words in my mind to interpret.
“Well, I was supposed to be leaving on Sunday for England, but . . .” I steal a glance River’s way. “I’m going to make some changes to my flights.” When Simon offered his house to me, he said I could have it for the entire month of June. I never thought I’d need it.
River’s brow furrows. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” I smile. “It’s just another country. It’ll still be there later.” But River may not be, and I can’t think of any place I’d rather be now than with him. This isn’t about ditching my life plans for a guy. This is about doing what I truly want to do.
“And you?” Marion pokes her head around to take in Ivy, her shrewd eyes scrutinizing Ivy’s boots and punkish dress.
“I’m friends with Amber.” She hesitates. “And Rowen.” After a moment, she darts forward awkwardly, extending her arm to offer a hand.
Marion’s eyes widen slightly at the full sleeve of colorful ink covering Ivy’s slender arm before taking it. I can only imagine what’s going on in the woman’s head. Not everyone can be like my mother—so open-minded and accepting.
“Ivy did the Delaney stag on my chest,” River explains, adding, “on Rowen, too.”
That seems to impress Seamus, his nod slow but approving.
“We should go see if there’s any news on Rowen,” Marion announces. “Come, Seamus.”
“Right.” He climbs out of his seat with a groan, wincing once before righting himself, setting his shoulders straight. As if defying the very real pain he feels. “Maybe we can track down that flighty bird who was supposed to release you by now,” he mumbles to River on the way past.
The second the door shuts, River sits down on the bed with a grimace. “Fuck . . .”
“You said you were fine.”
He sighs. “I lied. Ma will start yelling at the doctors to keep me here if she knows.”
I shake my head with exasperation. “Maybe she’s right and you need to stay!”
“Nah.” He grabs my hands and pulls me onto his lap, carefully maneuvering me to, I imagine, avoid the injury on his leg. “I have my own private nurse. I don’t need to stay in here.”
I lay a kiss on his temple, aware of Ivy still in the room. “True.”
The momentary silence hanging in the room is heavy with worry.
“How bad was it?” I finally ask.
“I don’t really remember much. I came to with the paramedics. Bad, I think. I can’t see the pub being opened again for a while.” He curses under his breath. “They were watching, waiting for that idiot to come in. If he’d just stayed away like he was supposed to, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“How hurt is Rowen?” Ivy hugs her tiny frame.
“I didn’t see him.” River’s voice turns husky with emotion. He clears his throat several times, his head dipped down. “The staff here is bloody horrible. I asked for a glass of ice water an hour ago.”
“I’ll get you some. Just stay put.” I’ve done the same for countless patients before, but it’s different now. I’ll happily be at River’s beck and call.
“I could use some, too,” Ivy murmurs, trailing me. No matter how casual this thing is with Rowen, I can tell it’s shaken her up. Passing through the door, I reach back to give her hand a slight squeeze and offer a smile.
When I turn to look ahead, I find myself face-to-face with Garda Duffy.
Two . . . three . . . four painfully long seconds pass, where my lungs simply don’t work. Maybe he doesn’t remember me. Maybe he won’t recognize me.
Maybe he won’t put two and two together.
I pray.
“Amber Welles.” His gaze reads the number on the door, and then my face. There’s no mistaking the shift from surprise to shock to recognition . . . to understanding.
I’m sure it’s the same series of expressions that he sees passing over mine.
I’m in so much trouble.
TWENTY-NINE
RIVER
I shift and groan, the twenty stitches keeping the wound in my thigh closed tight and uncomfortable. That chunk of flying glass cut so deep into my muscle that I needed internal stitching as well. The doctors promised that this limp is only temporary, that it’ll fade within a couple of weeks, as the tissue repairs itself.
I don’t give a shit, truly. All I care about right now is knowing that Rowen will be okay.
Ma was with Aengus in his room this morning when he came to after surgery, groggy. Doctors said he should recover just fine, though with plenty more scars.
Until I get hold of him, that is. Because if Rowen doesn’t pull through, I’ll kill the bastard with my own bare hands.
My hospital room door suddenly swings open. Ivy rushes through, rare alarm in her eyes. “The gardai just arrested Amber. They’re taking her to the station.”
“What?” Any last bit of shock from the bombing vanishes instantly as panic sets in.
“I don’t know why.” She frowns. “But he knew her
name.”
Fuck. I should have known. Of course Duffy himself would be coming here to question me about last night.
And Amber lied to him.
“Shit, shit, shit . . .” What the hell is going to happen to her now?
“You need to fix this, River,” Ivy insists through gritted teeth.
“I will,” I promise. But how?
A knock against the glass pulls our attention up in time to see Duffy poke his head in.
“Call the shop when you have news about Rowen,” she mutters, scurrying past him and out the door.
Duffy watches her with curiosity for a long moment, and then dismisses her, letting the door slip from his finger’s grip to shut. He adjusts his hat. “River. Glad to see you up.” He strolls forward, as if here to check on me, to see how I’m doing. As if he cares. I know that’s not the case at all. “Terrible thing that happened. I hear you got a nasty bump on the head.”
“Why did you just arrest Amber?” I blurt out.
He eyes me, flipping open his notepad. “She has some things to answer for. And I have a few questions for you, about last night.”
I know how this works. It’s a dance of information, back and forth, and he’s not going to make the first move. He’s still trying to pin the Green on me and he clearly has no evidence aside from some whispered rumors from his criminal informants. If I didn’t care about Amber, I’d tell him to fuck off. The problem is, I do care about her. More than I’ve ever cared about any girl before.
And I think he’s figured that out.
“What do you remember, exactly?”
All morning, I’ve been quietly piecing bits of memories together. “The pub was closed. Aengus showed up, pounding on the door.”
“Was he running from someone? Afraid for his life?”
“No.” I snort, recalling Aengus’s arrogant attitude. “He was right pissed. Been drinking all day.”
“So, you let him in.”
“Of course.”
“And did you lock the door behind him?”
“No.” I’ve beaten myself up about that for a while this morning, but, really, there’s no point. Beznick’s fellas would have gotten in eventually. At least there weren’t any customers.
“And then? What happened after that?”
“I poured a round of pints, because we still needed to finish up and Aengus wasn’t going anywhere. Then suddenly a man showed up, tossed the bomb, and ran out the door.”
Duffy’s pen moves quickly, scratching down notes. “Did he say anything?”
“He did.” I hesitate. “ ‘Tit-for-tat, Delaneys.’ ”
His pen stops and his gaze levels with mine. “What do you suppose that meant?”
“He didn’t care to elaborate.”
“Right.” Duffy’s jaw shifts in thought. Deciding on whether to push me on it, I assume. “Did you see his face?”
“Half of it.”
“Enough to identify him?”
“Possibly.” If I don’t kill him first. I saw a tattoo on his forearm—a giant scythe, or something like that. Between his eyes and that marking and his short stature, I might be able to pick him out of a lineup. That information would be of help to the gardai. Maybe they could lay charges. But I know that I could also pass this information on to Jimmy and guarantee that the guy is tracked down and punished, swiftly. Not because Jimmy necessarily cares what happened to me or Rowen, but because his right-hand man was nearly blown up and that’s an affront to Jimmy’s image.
“We don’t have a lot of time to find the man who did this to your family, River,” Duffy warns. The clever garda must be able to read the thoughts on my face.
“I know that.” The bomber will go to ground as soon as he finds out that we lived.
He sighs. “They’re releasing you soon, I gather?”
“Just waiting on paperwork.”
“I’d like ya to come down to the station and look through some mug shots.”
“Only if you let Amber go. She’s completely innocent.”
“Innocent of what?” he asks casually, his raptor gaze watching my every tic and twitch.
I swallow, not taking the bait. “Of whatever you’re trying to drag her into.”
“She lied to a garda. That’s a serious offense.”
Fuck. “If she did, it was to protect me.”
“From what?”
I meet his question with silence. I can’t let her take the fall for this, but I need to think this through before I talk.
“You must really like this bird.” A heavy frown casts over his face. “Where do ya see this going, with you unable to step foot on American soil? Hoping she’ll move here?” When I still don’t speak, he goes on. “If she’s found guilty of providing false information to an officer of the law during an investigation, she may never be allowed back in Ireland. Then where will that leave you two?” He flips his notebook shut. “Be smart, River.”
Ma plows through the door, boring holes into Garda Duffy’s back with her glare. “Not enough that ya disturb the son who’s barely conscious, now you’re here to bother another?”
I watch Duffy’s eyes glaze over as he prepares himself for Ma’s tongue-lashing.
“If you spent less time bothering us and more time chasing down Dublin’s scum, maybe our entire livelihood wouldn’t be lying in shambles now. And to think, ya knew someone was threatening me family and ya did nothing. I should bring charges to the lot of ya!”
Ma may seem the simple-minded culchie sometimes but she’s not daft. She’s already figured out this is Aengus’s doing. Yet she’ll defend her pride for her family until she’s six feet in the ground.
“I’ll be expecting you in later today, River.” With one last pointed look my way, Duffy disappears out the door.
“That bastard!” Ma exclaims, glaring at the door.
“Any update on Rowen yet?”
Her bottom lip wavers with her firm head shake. “Your da’s waiting for the doctor.”
I collect my wallet and keys from the end table. I’m assuming my phone didn’t make it out of the pub last night. “Tell them I discharged myself.”
She frowns. “Where you goin’?”
“To talk to Aengus.”
Aengus has always been a force to be reckoned with. Even now, bandaged like a mummy, cords dangling from his limbs, his eyes mere slivers as he watches me approach, I sense the fury radiating from him.
“Beznick’s not goin’ to get away with this,” he mutters, his words slightly slurred from the heavy dose of pain medication. “I need you to go see Jimmy, tell him it was Jackie Hanegan.”
“That’s the guy’s name? You sure?”
“Positive. I had words with the muppet a few weeks back. Tell Jimmy.”
I sigh. “And then what?”
He pauses, and I can see him processing the question, not sure if he heard it right. “What the fuck do you mean, ‘and then what’? Jimmy will take care of it.”
“Yeah. He will. He’ll put a few bullets in Jackie’s back. Maybe blow up his house with his family in it, as a warning. And then Beznick will send someone after Jimmy, and maybe after you again. Open your eyes and look at what just happened! They’re still trying to fix your baby brother in there. Don’t you care?”
“Of course I care!” he spits back. I know he does, because Aengus is loyal to the Delaney name, to the beliefs that made us who we are today. The problem is he can’t see how Jimmy’s beliefs—and the actions of today’s IRA—have diverged from what our family stands for.
The rhythmic beeping of his heart rate monitor increases and I pause for a moment, waiting for him to calm himself while I study the tiny, private room they’ve stuck him in. He won’t be in critical care for much longer, I gather. Some poor fella will get stuck sharing a room with him soon enough. “Duffy was here to see you?”
“Tried, but Ma chased him away. I pretended I was asleep.” He pauses. “You?”
“He came in.”
&nbs
p; “You told him to fuck off, right? We’ll handle this ourselves. Garda’s never done anything good for us.”
“Neither have you.”
He glares at me. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Did you forget all the times I helped you out? I would’ve been out of prison years ago had I not been protecting you. Have you forgotten that so quickly?”
“I wouldn’t have needed protection if it wasn’t for you,” I throw back. Though I don’t truly blame Aengus. I made my own choices. “Everything that our family represents is now lying in a heap of rubble, my brother is lying on a surgeon’s table, fighting to keep his leg, and that is all because of you.” A glance over my shoulder finds a nurse peering in. I take a deep breath before I say what I resolved myself to on the way here. It’s the only way out of this mess, and what I know Amber would tell me to do, if she were here. “I’m going down to the station now, to identify Jackie Hanegan’s ugly mug, like a normal Irish citizen looking for justice. And then I’m going to try and help Ma and Da pick up the pieces of a life you’ve destroyed. And when Duffy shows up here and questions you, you are going to give him every last piece of information that he wants. Everything. Names and locations. He’s going to connect this to the Green, and you’re going to admit to it.”
He chokes on his laughter, coughing and then grimacing against the pain. “Are you mad? Why the hell would I do that?”
“Because if you don’t, I’ll give Duffy what he wants myself.”
Honest shock fills Aengus’s face. “You’re serious? You’d really do that? You’d turn on your own flesh and blood?”
“No. I’m protecting my flesh and blood. Ma and Da. And Rowen. I’m protecting them.” And I’m protecting Amber.
He stares long and hard at me. “Do you even know what you’re asking?” he finally whispers, realization dawning on him.
“That you pay for your sins.”
“And put a nail in my own coffin?”