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If I were a jackass, I’d have laughed. Before the drive-by shooting that had made mincemeat out of my knee, I’d been a jackass, but now? I winced because when she dropped, it was like a belly flop without a pool to break her fall.
I opened the door, and hobbled out with lights flaring into being as the motion sensors were triggered.
The cold hit me, the harsh chill of the December night colliding with my overheated flesh, making the perspiration feel like icicles that were clinging to my skin. I shoved those pansy ass thoughts away as I limped over to the stranger’s side, and looming above her, I managed to roll her onto her back.
She had a cut on her hairline that was already bleeding, scrapes on her chin and nose, a bad cut on her thigh, but as much as I noticed all her injuries, the one thing that resonated was her identity.
Savannah Daniels.
The one I’d pushed away.
While I knew she lived on the floor below the goddamn penthouse, seeing her flying down the stairs from the helipad was as much of a surprise as St. Nick tripping down them.
I tried to crouch lower to reach her but my fucking knee wouldn’t let me.
Concerned for her, I hobbled back to the gym, toward the door and hollered, "Conor? Get your ass out here right now!"
Eoghan was the best medic, thanks to his training, but I knew Conor was good at a lot of shit he kept from Da. He’d know what to do more than I would.
As I moved over to the box of fresh towels, I grabbed a couple, then retreated to her side once more.
Carefully covering her up with the terry cloth, I was about to lose my patience with my brother when, finally, I heard his, "What the hell’s wrong with you now? If you want to puke on me again to get back at me for—" He paused. "Who the fuck is that?"
I twisted around. "She came down from the helipad."
He peered up at the sky. "I really didn’t need to know that angels exist tonight, God."
Despite my concern, I snickered. "She’s no angel." More like a demon. A fucking menace to my dick. "She’s a journalist."
Conor’s frown eased. "A journalist? Should we throw her off the helipad?"
My lips curved. "Maybe another time."
He hummed. "I’ve always wanted to throw someone off there."
"Jesus," I muttered, recognizing his earnestness. "Why?"
"I want to see if they’re like toast."
"Why the fuck would you think there could be a similarity?"
"The science is there." He scowled at me. "Would they land face up or down from a building of this height?"
"I don’t want to know why that’s even a question, Con, but no, I don’t want her dead. I know her."
He stepped closer. "How do you know a reporter?"
"Remember that pain in the ass Da asked me to handle about five years ago?"
His frown puckered. "I don’t remember much about last week, Aid."
I heaved a sigh. "She was digging her heels in, talking to a lot of our associates, somehow managing to wheedle her way into conversations with people she wasn’t supposed to. Started sniffing around Paddy’s place in the Hole."
"Where those bodies are buried?"
I nodded grimly. "Exactly." Of course, that hadn't been what she was looking for.
Conor didn't need to know that, however.
