GRAYSON
Itear open the package of ramen with my teeth, dumping the clump of noodles into the pot. Steam curls up, and I grab a bowl from my cabinet. That damn photo. Anderson—Ace—him and Aoife boxing together in a ring that I can only assume is the one underground at O’Brien’s. She was young, so much so that most people don’t realize that’s her in the photo, I’m sure.
It’s not like I spend a ton of time inside the chief’s office, but did I truly miss the boxing photo or the pair of old gloves dangling beside the door?
With a snip, I clip open the seasoning packet and dump it in, stirring with the chopsticks I hoarded from one of my random takeout nights.
She loves me.
Hell. And I … Why did I walk away? Am I really shocked that a crime family leader would, in fact, act like a leader? Aoife is truly soft to her core, but with an inner strength that rivals some of the strongest men I know.
I lean against the counter, arms crossed.She loves me.
The water rolls, and I stare fixated on how it ripples and shifts. It’s restless, like the churning in my stomach at the idea I let her think I don’t feel the same. I’m gone for this woman. I’vebeen gone for this woman. I can’t ask her to change for me. I shouldn’t.
Cold metal brushes across the pads of my fingers as I fumble for the clip at my hip. My badge catches on my leather belt for a moment before I yank it free and toss it over onto the counter. Its dull sheen throws my reflection back at me, and I stare into it. How many years have I been doing this? Bled for the badge, swallowed my anger for it. It means something to me, yes, but now it’s a weight I can’t lift. This badge used to own me. I let it. But now … I’m fairly certain something else does,someoneelse.
The corner of my mouth twitches upward as I move from the badge to the tree, smooshed into the cavity between my desk and the window. Then my gaze bounces to the box of lights she shipped me.
She loves me.
My phone dings, and I pull it from my pocket.
REED
Hey. You still have the sedan checked out?
Yeah. Keys are in it.
REED
Appreciate it. I’ll see you tomorrow.
Technically, we’re supposed to check the cars back into motor pool between shifts, but the department is lax on the unmarked sedans. I use mine off-duty more than I should.
I toss my phone down and move back to flick off the stove. I shovel my dollar meal into my mouth as quickly as possible and take a shower. I need sleep, to think on it all, but if there’s one thing I know, it’s that she loves me, and I can’t stop thinking about how much I love her, too.
CHAPTER 17
AOIFE
“Reed,” I mumble as I wake. The stench hits me first as I roll over, instantly stopped by chains wrapped around my wrists. Rot, rust, and a sharp tang of stagnant water are thick enough to taste. I test my tongue in my mouth then attempt to manipulate my hands to rub the grittiness out of my eyes, but I can’t reach them. I groan, shaking my hands in the corroded chain, and it clinks against the metal table I’m strapped to.
Tilting my head, I observe my surroundings through my pounding headache. Pipes fork and branch above me. Beads of copper-colored water drip from them. It’s cold, freezing even, and the hiss of the pipes and the condensation—hot water? Strings of bare bulbs hang from a wire, and they buzz, casting a sick yellow over the damp concrete floor. I imagine this lair is underground in the city somewhere, but the quiet begs the question: Are we farther out?
I swallow, then tip my chin to my chest to get a good look at my chained wrists. It’s ad hoc at best, the chains wrapped around and locked together with a cheap padlock from the store. One on each wrist and—I glance at my feet. Each ankle is also looped several times and locked away.
I suck in a breath and cough, fighting the last of the aerosol I was sprayed in the face with. A chemical of some sort, chloroform spray, or a custom sedative since it acted so quickly. Whatever it was, my lungs struggle to catch a full breath. Between that and the thick mildew, rotten decay, and the odd, faint smell of bleach, I’m suffocating.
I cough again.
Scraps of newspaper clippings, Polaroids curled at the edges, and maps run through with red slashes cover the wall. It’s claustrophobic in here. Small enough for four people to stand around the table I’m on. In the corner there’s?—
Oh hell.
A makeshift table, put together with plywood on old, cracked cinderblocks, is littered with tools: syringes, more chains, and a long serrated knife.
This is where he waits. This is where he took them, Finn and Ronan. Where he’s committed to the whatever horror he plans on the men he’s drugged. I shiver, the blood pulsing through my veins thumping in hot waves that’s almost soothing.
