Fuck.
My voice was hoarse as I whispered, “Conor?”
“Yes,” he rumbled.
“Will you let me know what he confesses to?”
He shrugged. “Set a bot on it. Use whatever you record.”
The faith inherent in that offer staggered me enough that I jerked upright. “You trust me to do that?”
“You didn’t have to ask. You could have just taken. We already spoke about this when you broke into my penthouse to help Savannah Daniels—I’d have opened the door for you if you’d just asked.”
“This is my reward for good behavior?” I tried to tease, but somehow, it fell flat.
“Yes.” He pursed his lips as he took in the mess on the board beside him. “He stinks.”
“That’s what happens when you fry meat,” I mocked, smiling when I took note of his grimace. “How did you even make this equipment?”
The wires and electrical pads were all his own design.
“It was a byproduct.”
“A byproduct of what?”
“Your Christmas gift.”
I blinked. “You want to fry me to death?”
His lips twitched. “No. Ever heard of la petite mort?”
I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t want to steam to death either.”
His chuckle set me alight. “You won’t. Don’t worry. My prototype didn’t work out.”
“Well, it did, depending on what your intention was,” I drawled, staring at the living corpse again. “Do you know who Dagda is?”
“Do you?” he asked.
“Depends.”
“What kind of answer is that?”
My lips tightened. “A truthful one. There are rumors about his real ID.”
“Have you clashed with him?”
Feeling that I was at the center of his attention, I shot him a look. “No. My mother did though.”
“Your mother?” Then his eyes flared wide, and because he was a smart cookie, he put two and two together. “You think Dagda killed her?”
“I know he did.”
“How?”
I studied him. “By investigating her death.”
That had him rolling his eyes. “Helpful. Why would an Irish Republican want your mother dead?”
“Dagda’s an alias for a sniper,” I explained slowly, unsure how much he knew. “They say that he fought for the British during the Troubles in Northern Ireland.
“When he was in Belfast, he went AWOL, got himself arrested, escaped, and then he resurfaced as the leader of this Irish nationalist group—the Éire le chéile go deo. They say they’re like the IRA, but I think they’re worse. We call them the ECD because we can’t pronounce their fucking name.”
When I shot him a look, I knew I wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know.
He didn’t stop me though, just arched a brow when I fell silent.
“Anyway, he set up this bomb in London and got sent up for it. They say that they let him out from time to time to complete jobs…”
That shocked him.
“They let him out to kill people?”
“It’s a rumor.”
“You wouldn’t tell me if you didn’t think it was true.”
I conceded that with a grimace as I reached for a bottle of water I’d placed beside my laptop earlier.
“Why are you telling me this, Star?”
“Because…”
I broke off before I could finish.
Before Christmas, when my childhood friend, Savannah Daniels, had found herself needing to break into Conor’s apartment, I’d hacked his security system and gotten her inside.
Like he’d said earlier, he’d told me at the time—after he’d shouted at me for breaking his code again—that he’d have opened the door for me if I’d just asked…
But trust, fuck, trust was so goddamn hard for me.
People let you down.
That was the one solid truth I had.
The harsh reality of my life.
But something about Conor made me want to trust him. Danger lay in that path, but some shit I couldn’t do alone. We’d already agreed to help each other out.
While he slept, I worked on our mutual projects, and while I slept, he did the same. We doubled our output that way and that unity was the reason those Sparrow fuckers were dropping like flies.
I could have done that on my own but it would have taken so much longer.
“Star?” he queried softly. “It’s okay.”
I swallowed. “Nothing’s okay, Conor. Nothing’s been okay for a really long time.”
His eyes saw too much.
A piercing chestnut brown that could read my fucking soul.
“I know, Star. I know. I’d like to help if you’d let me.”
It hurt to take a step forward. Hurt to open myself up to the potential of betrayal.
My country had let me down. What was to stop the hacker son of an insane mob boss from screwing me over?
It was a leap of faith when I wasn’t known for taking jumps—
“I’d like to draw him out into the open.”
His eyes narrowed. “You want to draw Dagda out?”
“I believe his real ID is a man called Eamonn Keegan. He was freed recently. There’s chatter…” I released a sharp exhalation as the hope that burned inside me started to scorch my insides.
“What kind of chatter? What did your mom get mixed up in, Star?”
My smile was tight. “What I know, I found in redacted files.”
“Tell me,” he urged. “You wouldn’t even be bringing this up if you didn’t believe it.”
He wasn’t wrong.
“My mom’s the reason Dagda went from being a sniper in the British Army to the leader of one of the worst Irish nationalist factions.” My jaw clenched. “She paid for that with her life, and it’s time he paid for taking her away from me.”
Wynter: I realized I’ve been kinda rude the last few days. I didn’t thank you for the helmet.
Rex: You’re welcome. Consider it a belated birthday present.
Wynter: You remembered it was my birthday?
Rex: January fourth is the most bittersweet day in the calendar for me.
Wynter: Gee, thanks.
Rex: That sounds bad, but it isn’t. It’s a day that’s filled with regret for me.
Wynter: You didn’t have to regret anything. You could have been a part of my life still.
Rex: Your parents, I don’t want to say something that might be misconstrued, but when you were four, I tried to visit you for your birthday.
Wynter: They didn’t approve?
Rex: They moved from Fresno to Burbank. There’s an MC in your town, and I think they believed that would be a way of controlling me.
Wynter: It worked.
Rex: Not really. The Disciples and I aren’t unfriendly. I realized that it wasn’t fair to them. Probably wasn’t fair to you either. Things were complicated enough, and I just wanted you to be happy.
Wynter: I wish you hadn’t given up.
Rex: You say that now, but I tried to act in your best interests. You can disagree with me on that, Wynter, and I accept it. Just know that I always tried to do things with you in mind.