My hands shake as I scoot for the gun and keep it trained on him. Then, fumbling through my jacket pockets, I grab my phone.
“Hell. No service. I’m going to need to go up.” I run to the table and search for a key. Nothing. I move back to Reed, patting his pockets. His phone is there, but no key.
Aoife must know what I’m searching for. “I didn’t see one,” she says. Her timbre is steady and even, and though I’ve seen plenty of things in my time as a cop and detective, I envy her ability to remain so collected.
Keeping the gun trained on Reed, I move to her side, lowering my mouth to her ear. She’s lightly shaking, but she freezes when my warm breath skirts along the delicate shell. “I love you, too,” I say. “I can’t stand that I didn’t tell you. I don’t know how this works, but I know I love you, and I don’t want you believing otherwise.”
“Grayson …”
I place my gun in her hand. “I’m going to call for backup, then we’ll get you out of these chains.”
I hold her gaze as I glance back at Reed, still out cold, and move to the steps. Her eyes follow me the whole way up and don’t look away.
CHAPTER 19
AOIFE
Ilean against the back of the ambulance, wrists treated with some light antiseptic and wrapped to help with the raw skin. Other than that, I’m fine. Most of the scene scrolls by in slow motion. Detectives crawl in and out of the hovel hole Reed concocted as his lair. They emerge with evidence, tools, and eventually, the speaker shuffling through eerie Christmas music.
Grayson is one-track focused. Once he saw to it I was safe with the EMTs, I haven’t spoken with him since. I watch him in a circle with Ace, the captain, and a few other officers. His arms are folded at his side, brows furrowed, and blood is crusted under his nose. I stare long enough that his attention gravitates toward mine, and the corner of his mouth lifts a sliver. I look down at my boots and draw a snowman in the snow.
Two black SUVs plow into the mix. Several of my men pile out of the one, Mark leading the charge toward me. I wince, but roll my shoulders ready to tell them I’m fine and to get back to work, but then …
“Did he think he could hurt me daughter and get away with it!” My dad’s voice cuts through all the commotion as he steps out of the back seat. Police officers flinch as he parts through them. Ace straightens and leaves his group to fall in stride byKieran O’Donnell. When my dad’s eyes fall on me, they break from their stern glare and soften. His pace picks up, and I leave my perch on the tailgate to meet him.
He doesn’t hesitate; he wraps me up immediately and presses me into himself. “Little love, aye, I’ve missed ya.”
His nickname for me. His unconditional love. It opens the floodgates, and though I try to be strong, tears flow. I pull back. “I’m so sorry about Finn and Ronan. I accept full responsibility for their deaths.”
“Don’t do that. Ye know it’s not yer fault.” He looks down at me, those piercing green eyes never any duller. “We’ll have their services after the holiday. We’ll sort it out.”
I nod.
“Summer is worried about ya. Are ye okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” I say.
Grayson and the captain creep closer, Grayson’s attention on the legendary Kieran O’Donnell. I smile, proud that the O’Donnell name has found its place with the Morozovs of the world.
“Chief Anderson, Reed has come to. Where should the officers transport him?” the captain asks.
Grayson’s eyes find mine, and I offer a sad smile. My dad tracks it.
“Kieran?” Ace asks. “What do you think? The media has been as invested in wrapping this up before Christmas as much as the department. When word gets out he’s the murderer, and it will, hell, he’ll be on every organization’s radar. Won’t last the night in my most secure cell.”
My dad ponders for a moment. “Aye, what if?—”
“With all due respect, Aoife is the leader of the Irish now. We should ask her, Ace.” Grayson hisses his name.
Both my dad and Ace look at Grayson, who stares enraptured only at me. He dips his chin. “What do you think, Miss O’Donnell?”
The corner of my dad’s mouth twitches, but he stays quiet, and Ace follows his lead.
I inhale a deep breath and straighten. Then, holding those steely eyes I can’t get enough of, I say, “The Irish will handle him.”
Summer rushes me when I walk through the door to O’Brien’s. She throws her arms around me. “Jeez, Aoife. Thank God you’re all right!”
It’s quiet, nearly empty between the afternoon lunch rush and the run on dinner.
