Most days, I hated Da. He’d screwed me over, had me beaten, but…
He wasn’t allowed to die.
Finn shuffled over to my side, Brennan and Aidan too.
“Where are his guards?” Aidan rasped.
Finn bowed his head. “I don’t know.”
“Did you see it happen?” I asked, turning to him.
He kept his face angled down. “I saw them drop.”
“And you were seen?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
I tried to keep my gaze veered away from where Da lay, but when Conor screamed again and punched Declan this time, I jumped to my feet and rushed over to them.
Declan and him began beating the shit out of each other, and I leaped into the fray, dragging them apart.
When Conor went for me, I stopped him by hugging him. Dragging him into me. Holding him fast in my arms.
When he sagged into me, I felt the tears that burned my eyes start to fall.
“I was too late.”
His sob broke my heart, but I shook my head because the last thing Kid needed was to carry this burden. “You weren’t too late. Da should never have come out here. He was exposed.”
The words reminded me of the other day. When Inessa had bitched about the number of guards I had on her, and I’d chased her around the apartment again.
I could put a hundred guards on Inessa, but they couldn’t stop one of my kind.
Conor hugged me tight, and I held him back just as fiercely, but I twisted him around, trying to figure out where the best vantage point would be from this position. All the while, I was aware that Da was there.
Right at my side.
Silent when he was never silent.
Still when he was never still.
Grief bubbled up inside me, but I dampened it down as I said, “Conor, I need you to not pick a fight with the EMTs.”
“They gave up on him—”
“They didn’t,” I argued. Pulling back, I grabbed his face, forced him to look at me, and rasped, “You didn’t see his wound. He was…” I closed my eyes. “He was a goner. I don’t know how he survived as long as he did.”
“Obstinacy,” Declan whispered, drawing my attention to him.
I loosened one arm and grabbed him. We stood in a huddle. The three youngest O’Donnellys. Beside our da. United. Tied together. Bound, just like he always wanted for us.
For a second, none of us said a word, then Conor whispered, “What was his end game?”
“Blackmail.” Declan swallowed. “What else?”
“Dumb fuck.” I clenched my eyes closed. “How are we supposed to tell Ma?”
Our arms tightened around each other, but it was Conor who said, “Bren.”
“This shouldn’t be something we lay at his door,” Declan argued.
The sounds of the ambulance doors closing and shutting drew my attention, and Conor’s too. When he saw the EMTs walking toward the gravesite to check out the First Lady, he shrugged away from me and rushed over to their sides.
“Leave that bitch alone,” he snarled. “She’s the reason my father’s dead.”
“Go and stop him from getting into a fight, Declan,” I ordered.
“Like that worked before.”
“Is that the—” The EMT wobbled on his feet before he dropped to his knees. “That’s the First Lady!”
I tuned them all out, ignored Conor and Declan’s argument, and I stared at the terrain.
Finding a place I’d use, I returned to Finn’s side. “Did you happen to see where the shot came from?”
“I saw a flash of light after I saw them go down.” He got to his feet, slowly. Carefully. As if he’d aged in the last couple minutes—I knew how he fucking felt. “Over there.” He pointed in the direction I’d picked out.
Taking off, I ignored Brennan when he called, “Where are you going?”
A couple seconds later, I heard heavy footsteps and knew from gait alone that Aidan was at my back.
While his knee was better after his surgery, and he could walk without a limp, his run was still more of a hobble than anything else.
As we wended our way through the gravestones and the tombs, I moved closer to where I’d have made my own sniper’s nest.
There was no sign of any disturbance. No holes in the grass, no patches of dirt that were mussed, no indication of body weight that had crumpled the lawn. Nothing to prove someone had set up their kit here.
“Eoghan?” Aidan called out.
Gaze flicking over to him, I noticed that he was standing a few feet away from a grave.
Rushing over, I saw he’d found the nest. I turned to look at where my brothers were, the ambulance’s lights flashing in the near distance, and I could see this was a perfect vantage spot.
On the ground, however, there was a pamphlet with a knife that cleaved it to the ground.
The phoenix fluttered in the wind.
“Éire le chéile go deo,” Aidan rumbled.
“The knife—” My hands itched to drag it out of the ground, but I left the key piece of evidence where it was.
“What is it?” he asked.
“It’s a Fairbairn-Sykes fighting knife. They gave them to the SAS. They’re a British military branch. Special Forces.”
“Does it mean something?”
Fixated on the phoenix, much as he was, I rasped, “They’re a calling card.”
For a second, he didn’t say anything, then he looked over at me. “I used to look forward to this day.”
The ache started in my chest. “I did too. He wasn’t an easy man.”
“He sure as fuck wasn’t. I never thought it would happen though. Not like this. Not—”
His words waned, but I got it.
The world was rid of one less psychopath today, but that psychopath left three grandchildren, six sons, and a wife behind.
I tightened my grip on his shoulder, not saying anything, just letting him know that I was there.
In the distance, I saw three helicopters approaching. ETA: 10 minutes.
The Secret Service had woken up to the fact that their protectee had gone missing.
About fucking time.
For the First Lady to have gotten away from her detail, someone high up had to have approved that. Which meant some heads were going to roll by the end of the day, and I didn’t intend for ours to be among them.
The biggest murder investigation this country had seen since JFK’s assassination was about to start, and the murderer didn’t seem too concerned about being caught.
That didn’t mean I wanted us to be embroiled in it, so I encouraged Aidan to start moving.
Aidan’s gaze peered out into the distance, scanning the horizon for the helicopters much as I had.
As we raced over the grounds, I rasped, “We’re going to take the ECD down, aren’t we?”
His words were a vow. “We are.”
Sixty-One
Aoife
I frowned when my phone lit up with a message at 15:04.
Unknown Sender: Your mom can finally rest in peace now.
Nausea bubbled up inside me. It went to war with the fear the message triggered.
Me: Who is this?
I didn’t get an answer.