Page 112 of Forbidden Bond

“Out of the city? Strat, Conn’ll—”

“Want my head? Yeah, probably, but you’ll be alive.” Her friend flashed her a smile. “That’s gotta earn some points with him, doesn’t it?”

Her guy would be angry because that’s how his fear manifested itself. But Strat was doing what he thought was right regardless of any consequence for him.

“Wait,” she said, struck by an idea. “Go to Imogen’s.”

“You want me to bring my daughter into—”

“Not Jagg’s, the apartment she shared with Lachlan. Their old place.”

“They still have that?”

“Conn does. Can you pick a lock?”

“Be embarrassing if I couldn’t,” Strat said. “Why would Ire keep—”

“I’ll tell you when we get there.” Because how deep into the truth she’d get depended on what they found. “No one will find us there.”

And no one would think to look either. Except Conn. If the cameras were still active. Even if they weren’t, maybe she could link them up.

“They have a hard line?”

She shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”

As soon as they could, she’d reach out to Conn. Call or—that is if he wasn’t bleeding too. Her blank stare went to the road ahead. Her love stayed behind, and she’d left him there.

The Byrnes wanted blood, the redder the better. Would they leave if they got Madison? Would Conn give her up? No, he’d never do something that could be construed as weak or afraid. She’d never been a fan of Madison’s and now the woman could cause Conn’s demise.

Was he hurt? If he was, safety wouldn’t matter, Strat wouldn’t have to protect her. He’d once said he couldn’t protect her from the man in her bed. Her friend couldn’t protect her from herself either. What would the morning bring?

THIRTY-SIX

THEY DID A FEW extra laps, taking the long way around to get to her brother’s place. His old place. After he and Imogen broke up, he’d moved in with her. Imogen was now living with Jagg, her new boyfriend.

The only reason they still had access was Lachlan’s efficiency. He paid rent in advance, and hadn’t asked the landlord for it back after his relationship fell apart. Until the keys were returned, the apartment was still technically Lachlan and Imogen’s. Had her brother returned his keys? She didn’t know. Imogen’s keys? Yeah, the woman gave them to her to return to her brother. She might have, sort of, accidentally, on purpose, forgotten to do that.

Instead she set up a safe house for the woman she’d rescued from the Carlyle fire… yes, the fire she kind of started too.

“Lachlan not ready to give it up?” Strat asked as they traversed the hallway to the apartment’s front door. “Immie’s pretty set with Jagg.”

Yeah, she’d have to be given the waves of turmoil that relationship caused.

“Imogen gave me her keys to return to Lachlan.”

“And you didn’t?” he asked, crouching at the lock. “You don’t have the keys with you?”

“I gave them to Conn.”

Her friend twisted to frown up at her. “Because…?”

She glanced back down the corridor, hyperaware of their illicit actions in the reputable building. “Can we just get inside, then we’ll talk?”

Strat got to work. She’d have to ask Daly to teach her to pick locks. Why Daly? Strat already thought she was a danger to herself; doubtful he’d facilitate adding to her repertoire of unlawful skills. Daly might think the same, but, on balance, he’d be more afraid of Conn finding out he’d refused her anything.

Her friend swung open the door and stood to curve an arm around her, directing her in first.

Breathing out, she turned on the light. “Maybe I shouldn’t have—” There were dishes on the drainer. Why would there be…? A door opened, she whipped around to find another weapon pointed at her. And the bearer… “Marseille?”

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