“We’re not,” Smith growled out, baring his teeth like a rabid animal. I’d enjoy putting him down. “We rushed them and they’re there.”
“If they were there, which I doubt and I will argue this with a judge, by rushing them, you could have made a fatal mistake.” Cashmore crossed his arms over his Kiton suit and tilted his head. “Which could result in an arrest of an innocent man.”
Detective Coulthard, Smith’s counterpart, leaned against the wall to our right, pointedly fiddling with his bushy mustache. This wasn’t a game of good cop, bad cop. They were both arseholes. Everyone in the department hated me. I made their life hell, and having their captain under my thumb only made it harder for them to arrest me. If they wanted to win against me, they needed their captain to retire and let someone else take on the mantle. Someone with balls. Which brought up the question, why hadn’t the captain done what we’d paid him for? I was sure Daire was already investigating that particular mystery.
Coulthard waved his hand dismissively and snorted. “Innocent man? Sloan Killough is anything but.”
Cashmore raised his eyebrows, triumph flashing across his face. He was a hunter who’d finally tracked down the prey he’d been searching for. “Is that prejudice I hear? I’m sure a judge would love to hear about the department’s continued harassmentagainst Mr. Killough. Really, detectives, I thought you were professionals.”
Smith slapped his hand on the table, making it tremble. “It’s not harassment when there’s evidence. Use your ears, Cashmore. We have his fingerprints on a suspected murder weapon. Not to mention, we have video of him fighting and fleeing the scene.”
Cashmore leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs leisurely, calm and poised with an added smugness that irritated the hell out of the detectives. “Then you would have seen that itwasn’t my client who used the gun. My client took his severely injured nephew to the emergency room. The situation was life or death.” He shook his head. “This is all very trivial and boring. Any judge would throw this arrest out of court. If we’re finished here?—”
“We are not done.” Coulthard stalked across the room and towered over our seated position, using his height to exert power that he didn’t have. I’d been in these kinds of interviews more than once, and I’d seen the tactics cops used. Coulthard’s move wasn’t anything new. “We have you on obstruction of governmental administration in the second degree for hindering our investigation at the hospital. And don’t think for a moment we won’t get you on a suspected unlicensed weapon used in a murder. We’ll run those fingerprints as much as the judge needs us to, but I promise you, Killough, we will put you behind bars.”
Cashmore opened his mouth, but I held up a hand to him with a smirk. He inclined his head.
Facing Coulthard, I shrugged. “You can try. Arrest me. Throw me in jail, but we all know that what you have, Detective, is at best, superficial, and at worst, forged. The charges won’t stick.”
His upper lip curled as he tugged out a set of handcuffs from the back of his belt. “Sloan Killough, you are under arrest for obstruction of governmental administration in the second degree.” He began to recite my Miranda rights as he rounded the table.
Cashmore’s jaw clenched and his eyes darkened. He leaned over to me. “Don’t say a word. We’ll fight whatever they have and you’ll be out in no time.”
I believed him. Even if they could get the DA to go along with the charges or find a judge to accept them, they had to get through a trial, too. Either way, I’d make people disappear if I had to. Nothing would take me away from my pet.
I suspected news of my arrest would flood the streets fast, and that’s when the real fun and games would begin.
Conall and Fionn were ready.
3
CONALL
Two weeks after Sloan went to jail, I got two wieners. Dogs, that is, not dicks. They weren’t the same as having Sloan at my side, but they were cute and kept me company.
It took Fionn exactly three hours of being in the house to notice the new additions.
“Why are there dachshund puppies in our home?” His eyes widened as he stared down at the two hyperactive doggies, who were barking wildly as they circled his feet. One had a blue-and-tan dapple coloring while the other was a black-and-cream brindle. Their nailsclickedon the marble floor of the foyer and the noise echoed around the wide-open space like a catchy beat.
The sound was a nice change from the tune already playing in my head. The melody had been on repeat since the night I’d heard the news: Sloan is behind bars. The lyrics were the same repeatedly—you can do this, you have this, Sloan’s going to come home to you.They were creations of my own consciousness, a mantra I told myself to keep going.
Daire stood behind Fionn with a confused frown. His arms were crossed over his wide chest. The baby blue dress shirt hewas wearing strained across his bulging muscles, particularly around his upper arms. He had the sleeves rolled above his elbows with his tattoos on full display. Merely looking at him was a cruel reminder of Sloan, the man I lov—cared about. Daire was his best friend and second-in-command.
“Sloan told me to get a couple of guard dogs.” I shrugged and fell on my knees, holding out my arms to my babies. “Come here, sweethearts. Come to Papa.”
Daire laughed, massaging his temples. “When he told you to get dogs, I’m sure he meant Rottweilers or German Shepherds, a breed that can rip out throats and keep you safe.” The tone in his voice gave away his stress.
“They can keep me safe,” I argued. “And I have Vail’s men if I need any more protection.”
Daire snorted.
I glared. “After thatrudenoise, you can’t touch my wiener.”
Fionn groaned and dropped his face into the palms of his hands. “Conall. Christ.” He was also another reminder of Sloan because he was a younger version of him. Fionn had a similar face structure, and God damn it, the exact same half smile. I hated that he was here and Sloan wasn’t, which was a cruel thought because I liked Fionn, too.
Daire’s laughter deepened. “Don’t say that too loud. Rumors will get around, and I happen to like my head on my shoulders, so I’d rathernotlet Sloan think I touched your wiener, sir.”
“Good, because you aren’t allowed.” I nodded resolutely at him as Guinness and Whiskey came sprinting toward me as fast as their little legs would carry them. I grabbed them in a bear hug, laughing as I fell backward on my arse while they wriggled like the two little demons they were. Laying kisses across their small faces, I cooed. I’d never had dogs, but I’d always wanted a couple, and they were as fun as I’d always imagined. They also kept my mind off the pain that had free rein in the depths of mysoul. No matter how deep I buried the feelings, they were there. Lingering. Reminding me of how much it hurt that Sloan wasn’t here.
