I freeze, my hand instinctively going behind my back to hide my bloodied knuckles. My bare chest is probably fine, but my hands are a crime scene.
“Dada!” Maeve shouts, jumping up and running toward me.
“Maeve, stop,” I say, my voice sharper than I intended.
She stops, her little face scrunching in confusion. She looks at my chest, then her eyes widen.
“Daddy! You spilled the tomato sauce!” she giggles, pointing at the red spatters on my trousers and the side of my neck. “You’re a messy eater, just like me!”
I feel a cold sweat break out on my forehead. I’m a man who can kill a human being without blinking, but the thought of my daughter seeing the reality of my work makes my heart stutter.
“Yeah,” I say, forcing a smile that feels like it’s breaking my face. “A very messy eater. Pasta is… dangerous, Maeve.”
“Well, I’m going to play with my puzzle now,” Maeve says and rushes out.
I sink onto the sofa, burying my face in my clean hand.
Fucking hell!
“We need a minder for Maeve,” I mutter.
“You’re always scaring them off, Lorcan,” Kieran says, stepping into the room. He’s carrying a fresh shirt and a bottle of whiskey.
Echo follows him in, looking bored. “We’re going to have to start kidnapping nannies if you keep it up.”
“Then they should stop being so fucking incompetent!” I growl, taking the whiskey bottle and taking a long, burning pull.
“When we get back to Vegas, we’re going to have a serious problem. You can’t raise a kid with just us and a rotating door of terrified nannies.”
“I’ll find someone,” I mutter.
“Who? Someone who isn’t scared of a man who breaks kneecaps for breakfast?” Echo snorts. “Good luck with that. You need someone with a backbone.'”
I freeze, the whiskey halfway to my mouth.
I think about a girl in a torn teal dress. I think about her poking me in the chest and calling me a failure. I think about her jumping a wall to save a kid she didn't know.
She has a degree in Finance. She’s smart. She’s brave. And she’s currently sitting in a room three floors down, deciding whether or not to leave her door open for a monster.
I need to go…
“What?” Kieran asks, watching my face. “You have that look. The ‘I have a plan’ look that usually ends with me doing a lot of paperwork.”
“Fuck off, I need to get clean,” I say, standing up.
I walk to the bathroom and turn on the shower. I need to get the smell of O’Malley off my skin. I need to be clean.
Because in twenty minutes, I’m going to see Atara. And I need to know if the door is open.
“Lorcan,” Echo calls out as I close the door. “Just don’t break this one. We’re running out of options.”
I don’t answer. I just step into the hot spray and let the blood of the man I killed wash down the drain.
5
Atara
It’s 12:15 AM.
