“Aye, ma’am.”
Dr. MacTavish stitches me up in record time, slapping a bottle of antibiotics in my hand and sternly directing me to take the entire course. Showering while twisting to keep my stitches dry, I watch the blood wash away and down the drain. I didn’t lie to Sloan when I told her most of the gore wasn’t mine. I kick my soiled clothes into a heap to be burned later, maybe with a sprinkle of Holy Water.
“How is she?” Pushing back my wet hair, I lean over the bed. Ma’s dragged a chair over to sit next to Sloan.
“Her fever’s receding,” Ma says, putting her hand on Sloan’s forehead. “This is a strong young lady.” She looks up at me. “This has to be the most complicated assignment you’ve had since you took out those terrible men at the drug lab and you had tocontend with a stoned pet tiger and several turkeys, all high as kites.” She laughs softly.
“Those turkeys poked me harder than the damn tiger,” I agree. “Aye, this is some complicated business.”
Her lips tighten. “Her stepfather is disgusting.”
My ma’s own father and his twat of a nephew planned to sell her off to an ancient Pakhan and when my father kidnapped her, they tried to have her murdered. My parents call it a “rescue” now, given how it all turned out for the best, but I like giving Da shite now and then about kidnapping his bride.
Speaking of my Da, he walks in, halting when he sees a sickly Sloan in my bed. Doc’s hooked her up to a vital signs monitor to keep track of her heart rate and blood pressure, along with a new oxygen tank.
“How’s she doing?”
“Better now,” I say, “you know Ma’s got calming powers.” She gives an unladylike snort, matched by my father’s.
“And you, son?” He grips my shoulder, squeezing gently as he looks me over. “How bad were ya hurt?”
“No more than usual,” I assure him. “Was I right about those arseholes? Oh, sorry, Ma.”
“No, theywereassholes,” she says angrily.
“Aye, ya were,” Da says. “At least ya can’t blame this one on Masters. This is one hundred percent Doherty Mafia. Ya took out twelve of them on the roof, all wearing Doherty ink and we found five in the bedroom, two more dead and dangling by the window. Quite a statement.”
“Fecking Irish,” I sigh. “They hated their Captain and yet they’re still makin’ a fuss about me taking him out, the hypocrites.”
“I think setting off three explosive charges and turning your rooftop into swiss cheese is a bit more than a fuss,” Da says, trying not to laugh. “Your cousins are complaining that this is the second time ya didn’t leave anyone left for them to finish off.”
“It’s not funny, Cameron!” Ma says. “When have these men had the nerve to attack our son directly? This is war.”
Da rubs the back of his neck. We’re already gunning for the Alekseev Brothers and the Dubrinov Bratva, who’ve been trying to establish a drug trade in our territory. “I know you’re angry, love. Ya have every right to be. Let’s set down with Cormac and the others. Son, the only room left in your fancy penthouse that’s not all shot up is your great room. Everyone’s gathering there now, aye?”
Ma takes a deep breath. “I’ll stay here with Sloan. You know I’ll get everything out of your father on the drive home.” She smiles at him sweetly and he gives her a kiss. There was never a time I remember when their love for each other wasn’t palpable. It was never something I wanted for myself, but…
Things change.
Boak up - vomiting
Chapter Twenty-Five
In which Sloan Meets the Parents.
Sloan…
“Spi, mladenets moy prekrasnyy, Bayushki-bayu.
Tikho smotrit mesyats yasnyy V kolybel' tvoyu.
Stanu skazyvat' ya skazki, Pesenku spoyu;
Ty zh dremli, zakryvshi glazki, Bayushki-bayu…”
The light, delicate voice singing to me makes me yearn for my mother. I can tell this is a lullaby, just based on the cadence and her sweet voice.
But it’s not your mother. Your mother is dead,my mean voice reminds me,and you have to protect Ethan.
