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“‘Cept you and Strat.”
“We shouldn’t wait for him. Strat,” she said, stroking Conn’s chest when he stopped with her.
“Because…?”
“He might not be coming.”
“You want him here, we’ll get him here.”
“No, it’s fine.” She sighed. “He can come or not come, it’s his call.”
“You want to push this back? We can do it another time.”
“No, everyone’s here already. Strat and I will figure it out. We’re in a fight… kinda.”
“About?” Her head dropped back to show him a smile and his eyes quickly read hers. “Something you don’t want to talk about in front of our current audience.”
“Why does she have to hide things from your guys?” Lachlan asked. “They tend to go off message?”
“The McDade element isn’t the problem.”
“She can say anything in front of her family.”
“No, she can’t.”
Connel caught her hand, interlinking their fingers to guide her down the hall into the club.
She came to a stop at the sight within. Two mobile whiteboards, one with pictures of male faces. Hock was writing on the other. Bullet points. Things they knew.
“What is this?” she asked.
“Command Center,” Lachlan said, continuing past them with the others. “This I recognize.”
“You want to take it seriously, we take it seriously,” Conn said, releasing her hand to slide his onto her lower back. “We will do this every damn day until we find out who’s responsible. I’ll close the club, close every business we have, spend every cent—”
“Do rún,” she whispered, her hands finding his chest. Grief and gratitude dampened her eyes. He narrowed on the reaction. “How do you know when to stop? What’s too far?”
“For you? Nothing,” he said, almost angry in his assertion. “There is no limit.”
“No, I don’t mean…” She watched her fingers slide up and down beneath his lapel. “How do I know when to stop? When I’ve gone too far for the answers?”
“That why you and Strat fought?”
She nodded, skimming her hand higher until it was over where his tattoo would be beneath the fabric. “I don’t like being told no.”
“You dig your heels in. I’ve noticed.”
“Someone knows the truth. Someone knows who killed Henry.”
“You tell me everything. I’ll tell you when it’s too far.”
“Let’s get started!” her father declared, marching forth, his people behind him. “I have things to do.”
He sailed past them without even attempting to look their way. In the past, her father was happy to share his displeasure. Whatever Connel said to him at the wake worked long distance. Nice.
As she and Connel went to the group to sit down, things got going.
“Henry was sure talking to people around City Hall,” Ford said, standing by the whiteboard. “Folks admit it was shaking things up but are reluctant to put any face to the concern.”
