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It was too soon for her to be back at work in the first place. And even if she was at ninety or a hundred percent, she would be beat from being back at it. But she was, at best, operating at sixty.
And that was really being generous.
She did the best she could, but as I watched her move around, it was clear she was trying to be careful, and that Nyx was overcompensating by making sure she never had to lift anything or reach on any of the higher shelves, always having the bottle ready before Dell could even look for it.
She was probably just sleeping. She might have even needed to take one of those pain pills she hated. Which would have made her sleep through the dings and rings of her phone.
I was being fucking pathetic.
But there was just a weird tight sensation in my stomach about it.
Which was probably just insecurity about the whole fucking situation. Because it was new. Because I felt a fuckuva lot more exposed than I was accustomed to being.
I must have checked my phone more times than I realized because as I did it again, Detroit shot me a raised brow look as he passed me a cup of coffee.
“Let me guess,” I said, looking around. “It is my job to clean this up.”
“God, I love having a prospect around,” Detroit said, smiling. Because I was getting to know his crew well enough to know that the mess would probably bother him the most, so he would buckle down and clean it up.
“Baby, five more minutes,” Sway murmured, making us turn to find the damn stray cat licking his face.
We were in the middle of having a good laugh about that when we heard a car pulling into the lot.
“Everyone is here, right?” Slash asked, putting his mug down and reaching into the cabinet, grabbing a spare gun from somewhere inside.
Detroit followed suit, grabbing a gun out of a hiding place in the pantry.
I followed the two of them out, whacking Raff and Sway on my way to alert them to a possible problem.
The SUV was nondescript, but I immediately felt myself stiffening.
Because I knew.
Without seeing any of them, I knew.
It was the Murphy brothers.
Judging by the way Slash and Detroit cast me tight glances, they’d come to the same conclusion.
Had they figured it out?
Were there cameras I might not have known about?
Had one of them seen me with her?
Had she told them without consulting with me first?
My chest felt heavy as I realized that this might not be another ass-kicking, that it could possibly be the day my life ended.
Just a couple weeks after getting free again.
“Where the fuck is she?” Cillian roared, making me actually go back a step. Because you expected that sort of explosive anger from Conor, not Cillian.
But I didn’t give a fuck about his anger or if it was directed at me.
Because his words made my blood run cold.
Where the fuck is she?
There was only one she that he could be talking about.
“Dell? Did something happen to Dell?” I asked, taking a step toward him instead of away.
“Don’t act fucking innocent,” Conor hissed, moving in at my other side.
“Yo,” Slash interjected. “Don’t know what the fuck is going on here, but Judge was here all night with us. He didn’t leave.”
“What? Are you his fucking babysitter?” Conor hissed.
“Careful,” Slash growled, and there was a ferocity in his tone that made even Conor stiffen.
“Cillian, did something happen to Dell?” I asked, and something in my voice seemed to put him on pause.
“She was taken,” Rian told me, stepping forward beside his brother.
“Taken?” I repeated, feeling like someone had wrapped their hand around my throat. “What the fuck do you mean she was taken? She had a goddamn bodyguard,” I snapped.
Cillian waved to his side, making me aware of a man with them that wasn’t related.
A man I’d been painfully jealous of until I realized Dell wasn’t involved with him.
There was dried blood crusted around his misshapen nose. And one look at his hands showed cuts on his knuckles.
Like he’d put up a fight.
To try to save Dell.
But from who?
“How the fuck did you let this happen?” I snapped, directing my anger back at the Murphys. “You’re supposed to protect her!”
“Who the fuck—“ Conor started.
“If you didn’t have your heads up your fucking asses and forbid her from seeing me, she would have been with me last night. Safe.”
“Okay, your sister is missing,” Detroit said, tone calm despite all the anger and worry sparking off the rest of us.
“Yes,” Cillian said, voice tight.
“When?” I hissed.
“After her shift,” Cillian supplied.
“Wait. What?” I asked. “The fuck it take you so long to get here for?”
“Pat didn’t get back until almost sunrise.”
“Back from where?” I asked.
“He woke up somewhere over by Death Valley all jacked up,” Conor told us. “No phone,” he added. “Had to walk most of the way before I found a ride. Then had to wake all them up.”
