I’m in love with the beautiful, Killer.
Realization comes too little, too late. After I’ve lost everything.
I’ve been to the hospital many times, but the fucking guard dogs Knox hired wouldn’t let me in. I contemplated killing them, but didn’t think it would help things with my brothers right now.
Once again I send a text to Butch, hoping he has information.
Me:Please tell me you have something. I’m losing my mind.
Butch:I do. Can you meet me at the bar in town?
By that, he means a forty-five minute drive because there’s nothing near us. I don’t mind because there’s nowhere I wouldn’t go to find out if they’re both okay.
Me:I’ll be there ASAP.
Butch: I’ll see you at one.
I don’t know what he has for me, but for the first time in two weeks I have hope that I’ll find out something. I swallow hard at the thought that news does not necessarily mean good news. Still, not knowing is fucking killing me. I toss back the last swallow of my drink, letting the burn of the amber liquid remind me of the pain deep in my soul. I grab my keys and head out to my car.
Glancing at Carter's Hellcat, the perpetual shooting pain in my chest intensifies. It’s another reminder of what I’ve lost. I can only hope it’s temporary because the thought of a life without them is painful beyond words. Never seeing them again is more than I can handle. That thought hits me like a ton of bricks as I finally understand why Carter would rather die than live without Heather.
Fuck.
I really am an idiot.
CHAPTER FIVE
KILLIAN
Butch takes a seat across from me in the booth I’ve been sitting at for over an hour, only increasing my agitation.
“We said one o’clock. Did you forget how to tell time?”
He opens his mouth to speak but quickly snaps it shut, probably realizing that this is not the time to give me fucking attitude.
The waitress brings him the same drink as me, knowing the routine, and sets his whiskey in front of him. He nods his thanks to her before he lets out a long sigh.
“I have nothing on Carter. Knox has made sure that nothing can be found. I think he has him listed under a fake name so you can’t find him. The good news is, I haven’t found anyone who has died matching his description.”
“And what about-” I ask, but he interrupts me. Staring at me, confusion marring his face, he asks the one question I don’t want to answer.
“Why Killian? Why did you do this to her—to your brothers? I almost refused this job, but I know you. Betraying yourbrothers? This is not you. Make me understand, or I’m not telling you what I’ve found.”
Normally, I don’t explain myself to anyone. I’d like to tell him it’s none of his goddamn business. Butch is not part of my family, and this is a family issue, but if he has the information I need, he has me by the balls. And there is nothing I won’t do to get information on both Carter and Heather. If they’re both dead, I want to see the bodies—I need to see their bodies. Even though the thought alone is excruciating.
“I was trying to protect Carter. I became so obsessed with not letting her hurt him, I didn’t realize how fucking wrong I was. I couldn’t see—I was hurting him far more than she ever would.”
I take a swallow of my drink and continue.
“I can’t go back, but if I could, I never would’ve made that call. The girl I wanted gone so fucking badly—I miss her. And I miss my brothers, too.”
I leave it at that. I’m not confessing to a goddamn employee that my heart has been ripped wide open. If someone else was responsible, I’d fucking gut them.
“Alright, Killian. I’ll give you what I have, even though I’m not sure it’s going to help.”
He places a folder on the table and holds his hand over it, preventing me from opening it.
“Heather was released from the hospital a week ago and transferred to St. Dymphna’s.”
