Page 54 of Deadfall

Mahoney frowned. “She’s not sedated.”

Again, Brooks shifted uncomfortably. “Ah, no—she came without a fuss so I thought—”

Mahoney let my chin drop and his attention slowly turned on Brooks who seemed to shrink under the scrutiny.

“I thought I was clear,” Mahoney said. “While I was gone, she was to be sedated. At all times.”

“Yes, sir,” Brooks answered. “And she was—mostly—”

“Mostly?”

“There are a few guards who have decided she doesn’t need to be sedated, and have been feeding her outside of the protocol.”

Mahoney’s irritation at his orders not being followed radiated from him. He slipped a hand into his pocket, while the other lifted the cigar and regarded Brooks through the smoke as he exhaled.

“I leave for a few days and she manages to stab Lial in the eye. Did she give Marcello his black eye too? And what about that bruise on your jaw?”

The monotone way Mahoney spoke was somehow more terrifying than if he’d been shouting. Brooks apparently thought so too because he smartly kept his mouth shut. Mahoney let Brooks stew in his disapproval before he gestured at me.

“Do you know who this is?”

“The Hurricane, sir,” Brooks answered dutifully. He sounded happy he could do something correct.

Mahoney took a deep breath like he was dealing with a toddler, the curve of his lips was diabolically condescending. He turned his attention back to me.

“It’s uncanny really.”

“Sir?”

“The resemblance,” Mahoney mused. “Don’t you see it?”

I felt Brooks’ attention, but I was more concerned by the sense of foreboding dread Mahoney’s words instilled. I didn’t understand what he meant, but something told me I should. I settled into that cold place Sacha had instilled during training and stared at Mahoney straight on.

“You’ve obviously mistaken me for someone else,” I said flatly, but Mahoney’s smirk only widened at my words.

“I don’t think so,” Mahoney said dryly. “He’s good at that too—the redirect.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think you do—deep down. I think you have an idea.”

Cold sweat dripped down my back as my instincts screamed he was right—I did know what he alluded to. I just hadn’t allowed myself those thoughts—that hope—in a really long time. I fought the urge to give in to the rush of emotions and instead gave him nothing but a hard glare.

Mahoney’s lips twitched. “That look,” he mused. “It’s the same one he gets when he’s thinking dangerous thoughts.”

No, no, no—

I’d worked very hard to put all of that away for now—to put him away for now. But, the allure of it was too much. I wanted to know he was alive. I wanted to know he was still somewhere out there. Mahoney smoked from his cigar and let the tension thicken, amused with his game.

“Stop fighting it,” Mahoney said. “It won’t change the truth.”

My glare sharpened. “What truth?” I needed him to say it.

He leaned closer. “That you’re Theron North’s daughter.”

Something twisted in my chest and the world fell violently out from under me. Nothing could soften the blow of hearing my father’s name on his tongue. But, it wasn’t just his name that caused such a visceral reaction, it was the fact that Mahoney spoke about him in the present tense.

“He’s alive?” I hated how breathless my voice sounded.