Page 37 of Forbidden Bond

“My guy.” Plain as day. “He’s the only thing I need.”

“And he’s the only thing in the world I can’t drag to your doorstep.” His sympathy was sweet. “Food, alcohol, books, or…”

“Just my guy.”

“You have to eat.”

She exhaled. “Not as much as I need him.”

When was the last time she’d eaten? Didn’t matter.

“Got a few pages left.” Right, the papers. “You trust the boss? Sign it?” Trust? Desperately. Need? Even more. Miss? Without question. Waiting wasn’t her strong suit. “Don’t worry about it, Bluebell. He’ll get patched up in no time.”

And that took her eyes to his in time to see a wink. Patched up. The doctor. Yes, she’d figured Conn might need medical help. But damnit, she didn’t know where to find the McDade medic. How could she get to the doctor…?

THIRTEEN

LIKE A BOLT of lightning, it hit her. How the fuck did anyone get to a doctor? Stupid, stupid. She’d told Strat the doctor existed at an unknown location. One she wouldn’t need to hunt down herself, if in need of his services. That was the quickest way, the only way, to learn the where without someone giving her an address.

Putting so much faith in someone was risky. When it came to her guy, trust was absolute. But he wasn’t clairvoyant.

Daly left hours ago. Would he go back to the secret base? Had he seen Niall?

Night cocooned her. Stag would be open. Out in the city… Was she going to live at the loft forever? Starving herself, avoiding everything except the liquor from the closet? Her head burst, pain, trauma, whatever the cause, it didn’t matter.

As the water drained from the tub, she opened the mirror seeking help for her headache. While it pounded, wisps of a plan wouldn’t knit together. Acetaminophen or—pain pills. Her pain pills from the attack. There were other bottles in there too, some labelled, some not. The names didn’t matter, of the drugs or the patient, pills… They’d be better than blood. Blood meant pain.

Snagging the whiskey, she grabbed out two pill bottles and went to dump everything on the bed. Naked wouldn’t be a good idea. She put on panties, one of Conn’s shirts, and a suit jacket.

Having a purpose felt good. Even though it was a terrifying, possibly final, purpose. What did that matter? She still wasn’t a hundred percent sure Conn was alive. Niall could be the guy behind the curtain, pulling strings without the truth being known.

Okay. Sitting in the middle of the bed, she took a long slug of her liquor, then popped open both bottles to pour out the pills inside.

Was he watching? The light wasn’t on, but… scooping some pills into her palm, she raised them and the bottle to the camera.

“Sláinte.”

Tipping them into her mouth, she swallowed them down with the burning liquid. The McDade world demanded extremes. Their world took loyalty seriously. And shows of faith… More pills, more liquor. The gateway to truth.

Good thing Strat was averse to coming into the bedroom. If this didn’t work, she didn’t want him to find her.

Who would?

Only a select few had clearance to enter the loft at all. Daly? Maybe. Whisper? What a stupid thing to fixate on.

Pills.

Liquor.

They were her whole world. He was her whole world. Without one, there wasn’t the other. Without him, existence became inconsequential. The warmth of tears on her face quickly cooled in the forlorn air.

What did she have left anyway? Maybe this working meant something else. Freedom for those she cared about. Strat would be better off without her polluting his life. Time and again she dragged him into danger. Against his every warning, she’d throw herself into these things, and he never once said, “I told you so.”

And Lach? God, the guy had been through enough already. Without the constraints of their father’s influence, and with their grandfather gone, maybe he could find his true potential. Without a little sister to care for, or set an example for, he could thrive with nothing but hope in his future.

That was it, wasn’t it? Selfish meant nothing to her. He’d held the burden for them all. And it wouldn’t be a burden anymore. She wouldn’t be a burden.

Conn. He could be alive, or not. The truth awaited her on the other side. What if he found her? If he was alive and the only one allowed in the bedroom… She didn’t even know for sure he had access to the camera. Her father destroyed Conn’s phone after the shooting. A man like Connel McDade wouldn’t usually cut himself off. What did it say that only Niall had access to the leader? Something was going on. Her guy was hurt bad, or dead, and Niall was covering.

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