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“Without authority from Aidan Sr., you know any attempt to find him is stonewalled.” She gulped and started rocking Niall when he began crying. “I want answers, Finn. It’s driving me crazy, thinking of him out there—” Her mouth quivered. “If he’s even alive.”
Somberly, I studied her, wishing for a fucking vat of whiskey to make this easier. This had nothing to do with hair of the dog, either.
“What do you want me to say, Priestley?”
She let out a sob. “I just want to know where he is.”
“I don’t know where he is,” I told her, and it wasn’t a lie.
Her gaze latched onto mine, as if she recognized I was taking her seriously. She staggered toward the sofa and sat down heavily.
“Why isn’t anyone looking for him?”
I tilted my head to the side. “Why do you think, Priestley?”
“I don’t know!” she shrieked.
Tension hit me when Niall started crying.
“Calm down!” I barked. “You’re scaring him.”
“Tell me! Finn, God, I have to know. I’ve tried the others, but they don’t…” Her grip on Niall turned fierce. Enough for me to wince. “They don’t have kids yet, Finn. They don’t know what it is to be a father.”
“Declan does.”
She sniffed. “Not really. He’s barely been a father for five minutes. You,youknow what it is to raise a son. You know what it would mean to miss out on your baby’s early years. Declan doesn’t have that experience, but you know what my man will never get back.”
I scowled at her. “Declan missed out on those early years—”
“Finn! You’re not listening to me. Please,please, I’m begging you. Tell me something.Anything. I’m going out of my mind here.”
Her words hit me in the heart, an organ that was quickly becoming a liability, but what could I say?
A woman in her position could easily turn nasty, and if she went to the cops, her son would be an orphan before he was a year old. Aidan Sr. would see to that.
Scratching my stubbled chin, I rasped, “Some truths are too hard to handle, Priestley.”
“W-What are you saying?”
“You said it yourself. He was in Conor’s crew.”
Her mouth trembled. “Was?”
I didn’t comment. “Why do you think we’d forget a man like that?”
She stared at me for so long, and so silently, that I wasn’t sure if she’d ever let the dots connect. Then, Priestley whispered, “No.”
I arched a brow.
“No, I won’t believe it.”
“That’s down to you.”
“He isn’t a Sparrow!”
I rubbed a hand over my face. “You sure about that?”
“He’s my husband. Of course I know,” she spat.
“And yet, I know Callum was the reason my wife lost three babies, has to take daily antibiotics, and spent our honeymoon in a hospital ward.”
Her eyes rounded, and in a hurry, she gathered all her things together, rasping, “I won’t believe it.”
“And like I said before, that’s down to you.”
But she didn’t hear my words. She scrambled out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Once she left, I sighed, clambered to my feet and made it to my bed. That was when I let the hangover pull me under.
Priestley was tomorrow’s problem.
