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Maddoc’s face turns to stone, but he takes a healthy swig, then turns to Riley and kisses her hard, fortifying himself.
He’s got a lot of good ink on his body, all of it in stark black with none of the color that I’m so fucking addicted to. It suits him, though, and it’s also really fucking distinctive, especially the twisting, bold lines that cover the backs of his hands and curl down over his fingers.
One of those bold lines ends in a set of stylized numbers that wrap around his left pinky. The date of his father’s death. No one who matters in our world isn’t gonna recognize that particular tattoo.
He holds out his left hand to me, pinky extended, and I fit the pipe cutter over it, holding his gaze.
Then I cut it off.
Madd doesn’t make a fucking sound, but his lips press together tight, turning white as the pain flashes over his face. It’s only there for a split second before he masks it, and none of us comment on it.
I take the finger to the sink to ice and wrap it while Logan quickly cauterizes the wound, then bandages up Maddoc’s hand.
Madd is already on the phone while Logan takes care of that shit, getting in touch with the key people we agreed to bring in on it to help us deal with the assassin’s body, get word of Maddoc’s “death” out, and make sure this whole fucking thing works.
Once he finishes that up, Logan hands him the whiskey again.
Maddoc doesn’t say no.
He also doesn’t let it slow him down as we coordinate our plans, though. “You’ll need to keep us informed, Dante. If shit goes south, we’re gonna pull you out.”
“It won’t.”
He levels me with a hard stare. “It can’t. But if it does, we need to be able to move fast. We also need to be able to move as soon as you’ve got something we can bring to The Six.”
I nod. “We can use some of the drop protocol.”
It’s an old-school communication system we use for some of our less-than-legal business ventures.
“That will be a last resort,” Logan says, tucking away the last of his medical equipment and setting the case aside. He pulls out something else, holding it out to me. “This tech is small enough to be hidden on your person. It will let us keep in touch, and West Point won’t be able to detect it.”
Riley looks on while he gets it set up, then we do a quick test after he explains the instructions.
“It works,” Logan confirms, stepping back. “And the battery is good for a lot longer than you’ll need it, so you’re good to go.”
“How long?” Riley blurts, speaking up for the first time since before I took Madd’s finger off. “How long will this take?” she asks, her voice strained. “What if the batterydoesfail?”
“It won’t,” Logan says flatly.
No one answers her other question, because we can’t and our girl knows it.
After a moment, she gives a sharp nod and looks away.
Logan hesitates for a moment, then grasps my hand in both of his. “Be smart.”
I grin at him, my detachment cracking for a second. “Love you too, brother.” I tug him against my chest, thumping his back once and then letting him go fast, before I accidentally exceed his touch threshold. “And don’t worry. If Madd couldn’t see through me when I was here for the Crows, you know there’s no way in hell a waste of space like McKenna is going to figure this shit out.”
“Damn fucking straight,” Maddoc says, pulling me in for a slightly longer hug than Logan put up with. “Do what needs doing.”
“I always do. Take care of our girl.”
He smirks. “I always will.”
I turn to Riley.
“I can’t,” she whispers, reaching up to cup my face. “How the fuck am I supposed to just let you go?”
“The same way Madd let me take his finger,” I tell her, harsh but true. I can’t quite manage to keep my heart out of it with her touching me like this, though. “I’m sorry tonight’s ending like this.” I turn my face to kiss the palm she’s got pressed against my cheek. “I had a lot more plans for you tonight, and most of them involved you coming on my face, not me heading out to infiltrate the fucking weasels.”
