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I roll my eyes and scoop some of the macaroni onto a plate.
“You want some?” I ask.
Deklan shakes his head and goes back to his conversation, and I sit at the kitchen island and try to eat.
“She’s dealt with it this long,” he says. “She can hang on a bit longer. I’ll see you in a little while.”
Deklan hangs up and comes up behind me.
“Eat more,” he says as he wraps his arms around me from the back. He kisses me lightly on the side of my neck. “Brian is bringing my Viper back and returning the sedan.”
I eat about half of what’s on my plate but can’t stomach any more than that. Deklan grumbles but accepts the amount I’ve had.
“You should take a nap,” he says.
“I’m not sure I can sleep.”
“At least try.”
“You’ve gone through so much in the last twenty-four hours,” he says. “You need time to recuperate, and you need time to grieve.”
Deklan takes me to the bedroom, strips me of my jeans, and tucks me under the blankets.
“Sleep,” he says. “I’ll be right in the next room, and I’ll come check on you.”
“All right.”
I’ve barely fallen asleep when there’s a loud knock at the door. I jolt awake, my muscles tensing with the unique sensation of falling from a great height. I gather my senses as I hear the door open.
“Will you shut the fuck up?” Deklan says with a low snarl. “Kera’s sleeping!”
“I’m in trouble, Dek. Big trouble!” It’s Brian’s voice.
I hear the door close and footsteps in the kitchen.
“Slow down,” Deklan says, his voice still quiet. “What are you talking about?”
“I called her right after I talked to you, but she already did it. She told him off and everything. He’ll kill her, Dek!”
“Jesus Christ, Bri
an. Keep your voice down.”
I can still hear mumbled words, but I can’t make anything out. I push the blankets off and slide out of bed. Slowly, I walk toward the door of the bedroom. Through the opening, I can see both of them in the kitchen. Deklan has his hand on Brian’s shoulder, and he leans down to speak softly.
“I am going to help you, all right? But you have to calm down.”
“Okay, Dek.” Brian nods and takes several breaths.
Deklan stands, goes to a drawer in the kitchen, and pulls out a box of latex gloves and a cloth. He tosses the gloves to Brian.
“What are these for?” Brian asks but gets no response.
Deklan moves out of my view, closer to the sink. I shift my position in the hallway just enough to see them. Deklan opens the cabinet under the sink and kneels down. He reaches all the way in, and I hear the sound of tape being ripped as he pulls out a handgun. Taking the cloth, he wipes the gun carefully and then holds it in his hand, finger on the trigger and barrel pointed toward the floor. He grips it for a moment.
“Put those gloves on,” Deklan says.
Brian slides a pair of gloves over his hands, and Deklan hands him the gun.
