"That’s her," I confirmed before he could. Instantly, Eoghan retreated, moving away and back to the window so he could peer out of it once more. "See, Brennan, Eoghan trusts me."
"You’d have to be a dumbass or a Gestapo double agent to lie when Conor was looking at the screen too," was Eoghan’s cool retort.
My lips curved despite the seriousness of the situation. "Not just a double agent, but in the Gestapo too?"
"Eoghan’s always had a thing about WW2. He cries whenever there’s a documentary on TV," Conor informed me.
"Fuck off, Conor," Eoghan growled, pretty much confirming his brother’s gossiping with that one curse. "Or I’ll take that goddamn cat of yours and shove it up your ass."
"So aggressive." Conor smirked at me, his grin unholy in the blue light, and I grinned back, appreciating that we had a kind of rapport.
"What’s going on?" Star complained. "I can’t see anything, remember?"
"Stop whining," I retorted, then I cleared my throat. "Dead To Me’s just arrived, duh. The guys are trying to deal with the ego-slam that two girls saved their butts."
"Well, I figured that out already. Surprised you don’t have a lady boner."
"Maybe I do, maybe I don’t," I said with a sniff, but I totally did.
Dead To Me was reported to have over eighty kills to her name, and each one had been foreshadowed by her victims receiving a gift with balloons attached to it. The theatrics were astonishing, the gall? Admirable. Well, if you were a weirdo like me.
"Dead To Me," Star called out. "Did you get them all?"
"Yeah."
"You sure?"
"Sure."
Woman of few words apparently... damn, there went my exclusive scoop.
"Our guards are approaching," Conor warned.
"How did you even know to send someone to help us out?" Eoghan demanded, his gun back in his arms, the butt nuzzling his shoulder.
"I’m helping patch up Conor’s system. Happened to see one of the security feeds he’s got running about twenty miles away. As luck would have it, Dead To Me was in the vicinity."
"Star?" I grumbled. "Don’t bullshit. We’ve known each other way too long for you to even think of pulling the wool over my eyes. What’s really going on?"
She huffed. "Nothing! It was like M*A*S*H or something. Military truck loaded down with fucking mouthbreathers, hustling down a goddamn residential road? It stuck out like a sore thumb."
"What’s a mouthbreather?" I asked.
"Nasty way of saying someone’s a grunt," Dead To Me intoned as she stepped over to the window where Brennan was standing.
"And grunt’s a nice way of saying soldier?" I asked wryly.
Conor snorted. "Nice and the army don’t go hand in hand."
"True fuckin’ dat," Eoghan rumbled.
"You planted Dead To Me here for me, didn’t you, Star?" I prodded nervously, Eoghan’s severe tone shaking me where nothing else had so far.
I didn’t even know why, but that, as well as the fact soldiers had been sent after me...
I already knew the Sparrows meant business, but sending the Army after me? Holy hell.
"Well, I wasn’t going to get caught out twice. Fool me once, shame on me," she said, her words waning, before she barked, "Conor? You seeing what I’m seeing?"
"Yeah. The guards are checking out the gates and the soldiers."
"I have a visual," Eoghan confirmed.
"Is that a bad thing?" I whispered, asking no one in particular.
Conor said, "They went straight to the scene of action, not to the house. If they were coming to the house, it’s more indicative that we’re not their targets. I.e. they’re not working for the Sparrows, but for us."
I sucked in a sharp breath at his explanation, which didn’t make me feel better at all.
"Unless, they’re not morons and can figure out that the way not to look guilty is to go to the dead people first then the alive ones?"
Dead To Me’s droll tone had me biting my lip. I twisted around, not liking being in the dark, and peered over the sill once more.
"You okay, Savvie?"
"God, it’s years since you called me that."
"I know."
"I could be better."
"Next time, go to the safe room."
I hummed. "Maybe."
Conor snorted. "You really are bad with self-preservation, aren’t you?"
"Told you," Star sang.
I harrumphed, but with another flourish, Conor did something that had the lights coming back on.
As he did, floodlights drowned the area, revealing a scene of carnage that looked like it belonged in a third world country. Blood was everywhere, but that was nothing to the number of men who were strewn around like rag dolls.
The guards were clearly tossing them over, checking pulses, seeking out threats from the soldiers which meant, I had to assume, they were on our side... At least, I hoped that was what it meant.
"Lodestar?" Brennan called out.
"Yeah?"
"Could you ask Cruz to come and visit us? We’d owe the Sinners big time."
"I can ask. Probs best to go through Rex, though. For a bunch of rebels, they can be pretty fucking sticklers for this kind of shit."
Brennan grunted, but Declan said, "I’m on it. Padraig should be able to hook us up."
Padraig?
Who the hell was he?
The only Padraig I knew was Aidan Sr.’s brother. The one who was supposed to be six feet under but was living it up in Canada.
A few seconds later, he moved toward the other end of the room, murmuring, "Sorry to disturb you, Padraig, but we need help. We need someone to get rid of a bunch of bodies fast, clean, and efficiently."
"You shouldn’t listen to things you can’t print," Conor murmured softly, his gaze anywhere but on me as he apparently sensed my eager curiosity.
"That’s a good piece of advice," Star agreed.
"Look, the only people with death wishes in this vicinity are already dead. If you think I’m insane enough to publish any kind of shit about the O’Donnellys, then you truly believe I’m fucking stupid."
Conor cackled. "Da’s reputation does precede him."
"Yeah, just a little," was my dry retort. Plus, it was clear they didn’t get it yet.
I was going nowhere.
You didn’t rat on family, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t fascinated still.
Everyone with a Daniels’ surname knew Dad had had Aspen’s kidnappers killed—I hadn’t printed that in a goddamn paper, had I? Sheesh.
"Holy shit, have you seen the news, Conor?"
"Been in the middle of a gunfight at the O’Donnelly Corral, Star. Most of the news has been happening in our front yard."
"New York cathedral is on fire. Your da’s going to go apeshit if it was arson."
"Jesus. Apeshit ain’t the word. He loves that place. It’s like his Holy Grail."
Did I think it was a coincidence that the Archbishop of New York had been brought to the O’Donnelly house in a white van, and then the leader and his heir disappeared with said Archbishop and then there was a fire at the cathedral?