Page 50 of Forbidden Bond

Hanging up, she hurried across the room. “We’re leaving, job time,” she barked at her boys while making a beeline for the foyer.

“What’s going on?” Daly asked.

She’d guess the others were there, there wasn’t time to check. “Is my car here? We have to—”

Only five feet from the front door, it opened, and there was her guy. She didn’t stop and kept on going until she was right up against him.

“Oh my God, baby, what happened?”

Others came in, Stranger, Familiar, some she recognized, others she couldn’t label McDade.

With a glance at her and one to those behind her, Conn’s brow lowered. “Going somewhere?”

“Baby—”

“Upstairs,” he said, then addressed the guys at her back. “Stow the weapons.”

She swallowed. Though he gave her a kind of push, she clung to his arm. “Did Strat—”

“Miss me?”

Just at that, her friend rounded the door, held up by Niall and another guy.

“Strat!” Rushing around Conn, an emotional welcome wouldn’t be appreciated by anyone, even if she felt it on the inside. The intention was to hug him, with the bruises, the blood, she didn’t want to cause more harm. “Oh, God.”

“It’s okay, I’ve been in bigger messes than this.”

Oh, screw it. With gusto, and little grace, she embraced his torso while the supporting guys were relieved by others.

“Get him upstairs,” Conn said.

Strat winked and stuck with the men helping him to the next floor.

“Should we take him to the hospital?” she asked, wincing at each of her friend’s limped steps.

“Hospitals have their own problems right now,” Niall said. “And they ask questions.”

Strat was alive. Conn was there. Lach was the only loose end, was he caught up in it too?

“Evander said he was shot, where did—”

“Close it up.” Conn’s order was accepted. Everyone else got it and scurried off to do their work, her guy, on the other hand, strode across the foyer with his own purpose. “Front and center.”

Okay, that command was for her. Moving fast, she stayed at his flank as he went upstairs into the office.

“This is the McDade Mansion,” she said. “I had no idea you still—” His jacket was dumped on the desk, and his cuffs wereloosened next. “What happened tonight? I called Steeple and he—did we lose anyone?”

“No one important.” Was that supposed to be encouraging? “You’re going to write a piece.”

Ah, hadn’t she been trying to do that all week? Writing for Conn would be easier than writing for her father.

“Okay, what kind of piece?”

Didn’t she need to know the facts of what went down? Maybe not the private stuff, that wouldn’t be printed. Steeple mentioned cops and paramedics, this wasn’t a quiet in and out for the McDades, there had been drama. Those were the facts the public would want to know, and they’d give some cover for anyone questioning why McDades had been around Evander’s club.

In the closet, he tossed the cufflinks aside. “An obit.”

Unexpected. “For…?”

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