“We closed down a pub.”
That was over an hour ago, but Ned didn’t need to know that.
“Right, okay. Is she right there right now?”
Dair continued to gaze at Blake, and now her head was tipped to the side in curiosity, when he replied, “Aye.”
“Can you get somewhere where she isn’t?”
Goddammit.
“Aye,” he grunted and took the phone from his ear. “I need to take this and I’m going to get us some waters. I’ll be back,” he said to Blake.
“I can get us waters,” she offered.
“Dinnae move,” he commanded.
She rolled her eyes, not knowing what Dair knew.
That whatever this call was about with Ned was not good.
He went into the closet to put on some lounge pants then he moved to the stairwell, his good dog Sorcha, who quietly snoozed by the bed while her daddy and his woman were anything but quiet in it, came with him.
He was on the second flight of stairs when he went back to Ned.
“Still there?” he asked.
“Yes, Dair. Are you away from Blake?”
“Aye.”
“In a safe spot for you too?”
God fucking dammit.
“Just get on with it, Ned. Is Alex okay?”
“Alex?”
“This isn’t about Alex?”
“No. It’s about Helena.”
Dair was on the ground floor, almost to the kitchen, when he stopped dead.
“Helena?”
There was silence before Ned bit off, “Fuck, damn, fuck.”
“Ned,” Dair rumbled.
“I don’t know how to do this,” Ned told him.
“Just do it, whatever the fuck it is,” Dair replied, wondering what that woman was up to now.
“Dair, Helena was killed in a car crash on the M4 this afternoon.”
Dair froze solid.
