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“Did you see it happen?” I asked, turning to him.
He kept his face angled down. “I saw them drop.”
“And you were seen?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
I tried to keep my gaze veered away from where Da lay, but when Conor screamed again and punched Declan this time, I jumped to my feet and rushed over to them.
Declan and him began beating the shit out of each other, and I leaped into the fray, dragging them apart.
When Conor went for me, I stopped him by hugging him. Dragging him into me. Holding him fast in my arms.
When he sagged into me, I felt the tears that burned my eyes start to fall.
“I was too late.”
His sob broke my heart, but I shook my head because the last thing Kid needed was to carry this burden. “You weren’t too late. Da should never have come out here. He was exposed.”
The words reminded me of the other day. When Inessa had bitched about the number of guards I had on her, and I’d chased her around the apartment again.
I could put a hundred guards on Inessa, but they couldn’t stop one of my kind.
Conor hugged me tight, and I held him back just as fiercely, but I twisted him around, trying to figure out where the best vantage point would be from this position. All the while, I was aware that Da was there.
Right at my side.
Silent when he was never silent.
Still when he was never still.
Grief bubbled up inside me, but I dampened it down as I said, “Conor, I need you to not pick a fight with the EMTs.”
“They gave up on him—”
“They didn’t,” I argued. Pulling back, I grabbed his face, forced him to look at me, and rasped, “You didn’t see his wound. He was…” I closed my eyes. “He was a goner. I don’t know how he survived as long as he did.”
“Obstinacy,” Declan whispered, drawing my attention to him.
I loosened one arm and grabbed him. We stood in a huddle. The three youngest O’Donnellys. Beside our da. United. Tied together. Bound, just like he always wanted for us.
For a second, none of us said a word, then Conor whispered, “What was his end game?”
“Blackmail.” Declan swallowed. “What else?”
“Dumb fuck.” I clenched my eyes closed. “How are we supposed to tell Ma?”
Our arms tightened around each other, but it was Conor who said, “Bren.”
“This shouldn’t be something we lay at his door,” Declan argued.
The sounds of the ambulance doors closing and shutting drew my attention, and Conor’s too. When he saw the EMTs walking toward the gravesite to check out the First Lady, he shrugged away from me and rushed over to their sides.
“Leave that bitch alone,” he snarled. “She’s the reason my father’s dead.”
“Go and stop him from getting into a fight, Declan,” I ordered.
“Like that worked before.”
