Page 32 of 72 Hours

His short laugh surprised me. “Sure. And what’s that look in your eyes? You think I’m some redneck idiot who can’t see past his own kind—that I don’t know there’re other folks with other ways. Don’t patronise me, okay? Believe me, I don’t wanna know what you do with your long, lonely nights in among the sheets, but I do know that no one’s ever refused my Sheri without a fuckin’ good reason, let alone remained a friend.” Sheri was everything to him. No potential date had ever said “no” to her and kept all limbs in working order, or so went the urban myth. I was very fond of Sheri, and she was cute, sure—but not my type. I’d dared to refuse her once, and I still seemed to be in one piece.

Junk stared at me with a rueful grin. “You’re somethin’, Mac, I’ll say that for you. Can’t say I agree with your habits, or I understand what the fuck’s going on, you know? But if you and him have something goin’, it’s none o’ my fuckin’ business anyway.”

“We don’t.” Sharp.

Junk shrugged and drained the can. “Whatever. But I’d be pretty fuckin’ glad to have an ex-colleague who felt that way about me, let me tell you.”

“You’re pretty fond of telling me all sorts of stuff,” I growled back. “Doesn’t make it true.”

He grinned. When he liked you, he was slow to take offence. Fucking annoying, of course, when you were trying to give it.

“Yeah. So I’m wonderin’ what you and he do down at the store.” I just stared. “The grocery store,” he repeated slowly, as if he were explaining things to his youngest boy. “Where you told me you got your arse fired from.” When he saw from my expression that the penny had dropped, he laughed softly. “Reckon I never thought you really did work in a store.”

I mustered up some spirit in my reply. “Yes, you did.”

His laugh was louder this time. “Okay, you’re right, I did. You’re fuckin’ good at that—lettin’ people think things without ever really confirmin’ or denyin’ ’em. Good thing people like you, kid, or we’d be thinkin’ you were some kind o’ government agent or somethin’.” He lifted himself back up to his feet and prepared to leave at last. He seemed to fill the room, and the rickety floor rocked under him. “We’re here for you, Mac, you remember that. I’m leavin’ you here with Niall because you’re okay with that, although you’re pretty damned tense about it all. But if he gives you any grief, call me. Dylan’ll be outside day ’n night. Damned dog can’t stop sniffin’ around the units recently.” He darted another glare towards the kitchen and Greg, though there was more calculation in his look this time. “And I ain’t happy with leavin’ that kid in here with you, either.”

“He’s okay, he’s not a problem now. Someone will send instructions for him, I expect. But there’s still someone out there, the one who was to blame for the shooting.”

Junk raised an eyebrow. “Maybe. Reckon I’m better off relyin’ on Dylan’s instincts, myself.”

I smiled. “The dog? I’m not sure he can track someone who’s long gone.”

I didn’t understand Junk’s grimace, but he stretched and yawned and the moment passed. “So you got this someone on their way? You gonna be leavin’ with ’em?”

It had been a mild enough comment, but I looked up at him quickly. “That’s not on my ‘to do’ list. You after my trailer? Because it’ll cost you.”

He laughed even more loudly, and Dylan twisted his head around to gaze at him. “This piece o’ shit? I wouldn’t let Dylan sleep in here, let alone any fuckin’ human. You only got it ’cause no one else would touch the repairs. And I get the hint, no discussion about your strangely official-looking friends.” He turned towards the door. “You sure you’ll be okay with Mr Charm? You can trust him?”

The description of Niall made me smile, albeit wearily. “Whatever I think about Niall, there’s no one I’d trust more than him if I were in danger. No one I’d rather have on my side.”

Junk raised an eyebrow. “Can’t make you out, Mac. You’re full o’ mixed messages. Despite you sayin’ that, it seems you’re not sure. If he’s on your side, that is.”

Before I could even think up a reply, he moved away, clicking his fingers for Dylan to follow. He nodded very slightly to Niall as he passed, and the door squeaked shut behind him.

​​​Chapter 14 – Tuesday 20:35

The rest of the day was a bit of a blur. The painkillers seemed to have been mixed for a patient the size of a small bush elephant, thus knocking me out of action for most of the afternoon. I was conscious of Niall moving around the trailer, and at one point there was the smell of food. But it only made me nauseous again, and I let myself drift back to sleep. Voices were only murmurs in the back of my semi-conscious mind. Then, finally, I wakened properly.

The light in the room was dim. I peered over at my watch on the table. Someone had obviously taken it off my wrist when they sewed and bandaged me up. I was startled to see it was already late.

Niall sat across from the couch, cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by his precious papers. He’d shucked off his shoes and socks and had changed into a thin white undershirt over his jeans. For a second or twelve, I watched how the muscles tightened across his shoulders, how the ends of his dark hair teased at the exposed nape of his neck.

“Hey?” My throat was dry but my voice sounded stronger than before. He looked up at the sound of it, and his expression was completely unguarded. Maybe that was the same for both of us. I sank swiftly—surprisingly! —into the concern I saw in his eyes. Then he got up, slowly straightening as if he’d kept that position for some hours, and came over to the couch. His hand brushed quickly but efficiently across my brow.

“Your temperature has gone down a little; you’ve been pretty feverish. The wound seems better too.”

“You dressed it again?” I looked down at my arm, a little groggily. The bandages were clean and unstained, and rather better wrapped than Hans’ earlier efforts. I was also wearing an old blue tee shirt I’d forgotten I had. Niall had presumably grabbed the first thing in a drawer, just to cover me up with some extra warmth. Maybe it was the effect of the drugs, or the shock, or God knows what, but it felt good to think of his hands on me again, on my skin, working on me. Albeit for medical reasons.

Get a life, MacKay. Get a new life.

I heard Niall say “I’ll get you some water,” and I nodded dumbly.

“SO WHAT HAVE YOU FOUND?” I was propped a little more comfortably now on the couch—Niall was far more efficient with the cushions than Junk had ever been—and was toying with the idea of getting up and moving around some more. Didn’t know how Doctor Sutherland would feel about that. He’d already helped me hobble to the toilet, and I’d been impressed with the way I showed off my recovery, like I managed not to fall down more than once, and I tried hard not to wince at the stiffness in my limbs. But I needed to change my sweats, and I needed something filled with more caffeine than water, and I needed—

Anyway. At least my brain felt back on the right track.

Niall was sitting back on the floor, although he’d shifted around to face me. The papers were in neat piles, and he had a transcript opened up on his lap. “Brad seems to have found a hacker in our e-mail system. Some confidential memos had been diverted to another e-mail address. It bypasses the normal security prompts, though fairly clumsily. Depending on how long this tag was in place, they would have had access to everything we planned.” He twisted the paper as if it might make more sense the other way up. The gesture made me smile. It was so very unlike the precise Niall I worked with.