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“I’m here.”
His absoluteness stops everything else I’m about to say.
He releases my hands and slides his arm around my lower back, drawing me against his uninjured side. His mouth presses to my temple with a gentle kiss as he turns his body between me and the icy wind.
“Come on,” he says. “I’ll pour you a double rum and coke.”
I slip my arm beneath his coat, keeping it high enough to avoid his wound. He guides me toward the dirt track without looking to see if anyone objects.
“We’re going into the main house for the wake,” I tell him. “With my family.”
His hand presses firmer at the base of my spine. “Of course.”
Together, we leave the Tallon graveyard behind and make our way along the track. Fionn steers me around the shallow puddles without looking down, taking the worst of the mud across his dress shoes.
“You need to rest.” I brush my fingers over the gold watch peeking from beneath his coat sleeve. “It’s a shame you can’t soak in the tub with me later.”
“You’ll take the bath, and I’ll sit beside you.”
“You’re supposed to be resting.”
“I will be.” His fingers spread across my back. “Where I can see you.”
I press my smile into the wool of his coat. Behind us, another shovelful lands on Ma’s grave, and I keep my face against him until his phone vibrates in his pocket.
Fionn fishes it out without taking his arm away. His gaze drops to the screen, and the warmth in his expression disappears.
“I need to take this.”
He answers as we walk toward the yard.
Dane is ahead of us, the whiskey bottle hanging from his hand. I glance over my shoulder to find Saint behind us, holding Keira close.
We manage two more steps before Fionn stops. His muscles go rigid against mine.
“When?”
There’s nothing urgent in the word, but his gaze jumps straight to Dane in the distance.
I watch the curve of his jaw lock as he listens.
“They have it?”
The wind beats against us, carrying the whispered thud of shovels from the grave. Fionn’s arm slips from around me, and my scalp prickles.
“And the ballistics?”
Saint and Keira come up beside me, though they don’t stop.
“Fionn?” Keira calls over to him.
He lifts one finger without looking at her.
“Who gave the statement?” he asks. “My father?”
My fingers close around the front of his coat, my eyes searching as he brings his gaze to mine.
“No. Don’t approach either of them.” He listens for several more seconds. “Send me the report and the full statement. Now.”
