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"I'll let you work," I apologized.
"Good," Conor muttered. "You too, Paddy. I need peace."
Paddy returned his focus to the screen where Aidan hadn't let up with Anthony. "Fine."
"Why were you the only one at the docks?" my husband was demanding, that goddamn bottle of whatever looming over the bastard’s face.
"They weren’t sure if we’d be able to snatch you. We had to grab you then take you to the docks so we could rendezvous there later."
Aidan allowed a single droplet from the bottle to splash onto Anthony’s face, on the upper curve of his cheek. As Anthony howled, as his flesh was eaten away, my husband demanded, "What was the end game?"
"Y-You," he screamed, body writhing as he tried to deal with the pain. "They were going to ransom you."
"What for? Money? Or power?"
Anthony cried, "Both."
"And if we gave it to you," Declan intoned, his voice darker than I'd ever heard it. "Would you have returned Aidan and Savannah to us?"
He closed his eyes which, I guessed, was his answer.
"Mark wants you dead," he rasped. "Callum—he's bitter about your da not investigating his kid’s disappearance."
"An eye for an eye," Aidan said with a shake of his head. "Fitting considering what I’m going to do to those baby blues of yours."
Sniveling, he rasped, "Mark had a nice fat dose of heroin to jack you up—"
Aidan, on the move toward the other end of the room, froze in his steps. The purest rage flashed onto his face and Anthony released a whimper when each of the brothers leveled him with a glare worthy of Medusa.
He was seriously lucky that he hadn’t been turned to stone.
With my fears realized, the idea that that had been their plan the whole time, I felt sick to my stomach.
It was a smart move. I couldn’t fault them for that; it didn’t mean I didn’t want this Mark bastard to burn for it.
I backed away to one of Conor's desk chairs and sat down heavily in the seat.
"What happened to Mark's boy, Conor?" Paddy asked, inadvertently verbalizing the question that was at the forefront of my mind.
"Used to be one of my best friends," was Conor’s grim retort. "He was a Sparrow."
"Shit," Paddy said with a hiss. And, ignoring Conor's request for peace again, he queried, "Mark doesn't know?"
"Doubt it. Da probably didn't want to hurt his feelings."
"Your father had skewed priorities," Paddy grumbled.
"You don't have to tell me that. I already fucking know."
"This world ain’t changed much," Paddy said on a sigh. "A man’s weaknesses always come back and bite him in the ass."
I had no idea why Paddy drifted out of the room after making that declaration, leaving Conor and me alone, but I was grateful he had.
My mind was whirring, my heart was still pounding, and I thought about all those autopsy reports I'd read over the years and accepted that Aidan had gone easy on Anthony.
He'd broken easily.
Too easily?
Or was he just a wuss?
"Conor, Aidan barely touched him and he was spouting all that—"
"Savannah, if you let me fucking work, that's what I'm trying to figure out."
I kept my trap shut from that moment on, even when, in an aside, he said, "There’s a doctor outside waiting to check you over. It pains me to utter these words, Savannah, but Aidan told me to tell you that if you don’t agree to see him, he’ll tie you to the bed again..." He arched a brow at me. "I’m asking you kindly to let the doctor tend to you so I don’t have to hear anything else about your sex life."
Which was when I realizedwhyPaddy had left—to bring in the doctor.
I shot them all a dirty look, but knowing it would put Aidan’s mind at rest, and for that reason alone, I submitted to the checkup.
