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She remembered what he’d said when he was holding her, when she was begging for the earthquake to stop. He’s too strong.
“How much do you know?” she said warily.
“Not all of it.” His voice was careful. “I can put together the pieces.”
“How, then? How do you know?”
He hesitated, then glanced around. “That’s not really a conversation for here and now.”
“Were you involved?” she said. “All this time? Were you part of this whole thing?”
“No.” Irish shook his head. He looked aggrieved. “Though I might have known a little more than I was letting on when I encouraged you to listen to your father.”
“Then what are you doing here?” she asked.
“I’ve always told you the truth about that,” he said. He glanced across the grounds, to where Michael was sitting in one ambulance and his brothers were sitting in another. Michael was alone, but his brothers were being checked over.
Michael was watching their interaction, Hannah realized.
She couldn’t look at him.
She looked at Irish instead. “You’ve always told me the truth about bizarre weather events? I don’t think so.”
“About why I’m here. I came looking for a new opportunity.”
“What kind of opportunity?”
He sucked his breath through his teeth. “Again, not a conversation for here and—”
“Yeah, yeah.” She suddenly realized she was so tired of secrets. “Over coffee, then?”
His eyes widened. “You want me to tell you—”
“Everything,” she said. “I want you to tell me everything.”
Michael sat in the back of an ambulance and watched Hannah’s partner approach.
He’d rather be watching Hannah approach, but he’d seen her conversation with Irish, and had seen her very deliberately turn away from his gaze. Now, he’d lost her entirely among the crowd of rescue personnel.
Irish didn’t mince words. He simply climbed into the ambulance and dropped onto the bench in front of Michael. “My secret’s out,” he said.
Michael kept staring at him. He had Tyler’s gun shoved into the back of his jeans, and he’d bet good money that Irish knew it was there. “My brothers tell me you’re a Guide,” Michael said.
“A Fifth,” Irish said. “Not a Guide.”
Too much had happened for Michael to play this any way but aggressively. “Tell me why I shouldn’t shoot you, too.”
Irish took that question at face value. “I’m not like him. I wasn’t here for you.”
“Then who are you here for?”
“Myself.” He paused. “I moved here to get away from all that.”
Michael’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Because my father was a Guide. I saw what he had to do. I wanted no part of that.” He paused. “I think your Hunter was the same?”
Your Hunter. Michael had to put a hand over his chest, the ache was so strong and sudden.
