Dark spots steal my sight as I begin to blackout when a high-pitched wail has him loosening his death grip. I suck in life-saving air as I glance in the direction of the sound and question what I see. A tiny little figure is standing there in a nightgown with tears streaming down her puffy cheeks.
I look back at Declan, and before anything can be said, his fist is flying toward my face.
3
Fallon
Someone,please put me out of my fucking misery.
My whole body hurts. Especially my head.
The sound of crying followed by “Shh-shh-shh-shh”is like a sharp point being stabbed repeatedly into my brain.
“For the love of God, shut up,” I moan miserably, unable to go far. I twist and turn before I realize I'm tied up. Cracking open one eye, everything around me is hazy.
I’m fucked up for sure.
Once my vision begins to clear, I survey my surroundings. I’m still in the apartment. Declan is still bloody and now bouncing what looks to be a terribly upset toddler, and I am tied to one of the exposed support beams in the living area.
Here’s a situation I did not expect to find myself inat all.
“Where is Aisling?” I ask. She seems to be the only missing variable in this equation. My thought is she split and left him with the kid. I would’ve too if Ronan were after me.
“It’s pronouncedAsh-ling,” Declan corrects me, beyond irritated. “It’s Irish for dream.”
“Sorry,Aisling. How sweet,” I correct myself, not giving a flying fuck how it’s pronounced or what it means. “Where is she?”
“She’s right fucking here.” He lifts the little girl higher in his arms.
I’m totally confused.
“What?”
“Ronan didn’t give you all the details. Shocker.” Declan paces while Aisling whimpers. “Shh, baby girl.”
Apparently.I have been thrown for a loop. “So, give me the details.”
“Like you would believe me even if I told you.”
“Try me. I like to think of myself as levelheaded.”
Declan stops pacing with a deadpan look.
“Okay, most of the time. I like to think I’m levelheaded most of the time.”
Declan just stares at me as Aisling finally begins to calm down. She rests her head full of dark hair on his shoulder and sticks her thumb in her mouth. It’s precious, even this stone-cold killer will admit.
I take a good, hard look at Declan for the very first time. “You kind of look like shit, Dax.” I use the pet name I adopted in New Orleans. His skin is pale, there are bags under his eyes, and he’s sporting an unkempt five o’clock shadow. Even his clothes are ratty. He’s a far cry from the man I met in Louisiana.
“Yeah, well, you stay holed up in one place for months with a two-year-old and barely any sleep, and let's see how good you look.” He’s defensive. I don’t blame him.
“Well, you shouldn’t have killed the whole fucking Kennedy crime family. What the fuck were you thinking? What the fuck did you think would happen?” I yell at him.
“Shh.” He’s agitated. “She’s finally sleeping. You know what a fucking miracle that is?”
“Not a clue.”
Declan continues to sway back and forth with the girl securely in his arms. “I didn’t think I’d become a fugitive.”
