Page 86 of Inflict

Killian swore heavily. “You know, if this was your father who left you that wee gift this morning, I’m already putting my arse on the line for you.”

“Good thing you’re a foolish one, then.”

“Why are we even mates?” Killian asked. “I haven’t figured that out yet.”

“Me, either, but here we are.”

“Bastard. What do you need?”

“I don’t know why, but Sean felt the need to get me on the road, far away from Brooklyn, and then decided to let me know he wasn’t going to be where I arrived, like he said he would be. It doesn’t sit right with me.”

“So? Sean’s a prick. That’s not news.”

“A manipulative prick, Killian.”

“Again, not news.”

“Go to the brownstone. You know how to pick a lock properly. Just to be safe—something’s off—I want you to get Evelyn out of there, and whatever shite of hers she has laying around. Hide it in a cupboard or something; shove it in a feckin’ closet, I don’t care.”

“So, she does have a name,” his friend said quietly.

Connor grunted under his breath. “Don’t be surprised if she doesn’t answer to it. Try her with Sasha, if she doesn’t.”

She probably wouldn’t let someone else use Evelyn, not without Connor there, but he couldn’t be one-hundred percent sure, either.

“And how long should I keep her away?”

Connor had to think about that one. “A while, probably all day. You’ve got a flat a few blocks away, take her there. She’ll probably sit in a window and draw. Make sure she eats something, too. If she tries to fight you—which is unlikely, given her nature—just give me a shout on the cell, let her talk to me. I’ll call when you can make your way back.”

“She’s got something to do with your father, doesn’t she?”

“On the surface, no.”

“Beneath the surface?”

“It’s looking more likely every damn day.”

Killian grumbled, “Everyone knows better than to mess with Sean’s … playthings, Connor.”

Connor drummed his fingers to the steering wheel. “I’m not everybody.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

Neither was he.

“Call me if there’s a problem.” Connor almost hung up without a proper goodbye—just like his father would have done—but thought better of it before adding, “And thanks, boyo.”

“Was that gratitude I heard there? First time for everything.”

“Don’t hold your breath while waiting for the next one.”

• • •

Sean had only given Connor a basic address to a shipping yard, without further details that would let him know where exactly inside the compound he would need to go. He decided not to call his father back for more instructions, because he didn’t think he could handle another phone call and keep his cool at the same time.

Unfortunately, once Connor arrived at the yard, did a good loop around the boxes and scattered warehouses, he quickly figured out which one he was supposed to be at. It wasn’t hard. The warehouse was the only one with the doors on the front half-way opened. There were a couple of guys standing guard outside with unhidden guns on their persons, and the rest of the shipping yard looked like a feckin’ ghost town.

Connor quickly parked his truck, stuffed the keys in his pocket, and got out. It was better for him to just get in, get whatever this nonsense was over with as soon as possible, and get the hell away. It irritated him on another level to be there at all, because Sean knew this kind of thing—whatever it was—was not Connor’s style.