Page 5 of Forbidden Bond

Her stomach rumbled and her eyes burned. Not that she cared about either.

Another set of cuffs appeared from somewhere and he attached one loop to the bed’s headboard. He snapped the looseend to her wrist, leaving her contorted in a—he freed her from the first set. Thank God, she could move her shoulders.

“So is this it now? We’re just on the run forever? Me cuffed to the furniture in motels across the country?”

Nothing. He hadn’t said a damn word. All her life she’d been invisible unless acting out. If this wasn’t him repeating that past, she didn’t know what to call it. A midlife crisis? Murder was an extreme way to recapture his youth. Just what had he been up to back then?

Her mood wasn’t helped by him pacing back and forth at the end of the bed.

“We’re the only ones who know,” he muttered.

Probably wasn’t talking to her, but she was beyond caring about his wants. “About your homicidal tendencies or you screwing over the city you claimed to adore?” Bullshit. No one betrayed what they truly loved. For all the difference it made, her father didn’t even glance her way. “Lach will notice we’re gone, Ronald.”

Using his name was more appropriate than giving him any familial title. Even in private, she didn’t want to admit they were related, and he sure didn’t deserve respect.

“I can control this.”

Himself or the situation?

“Lachlan actually does have integrity and loyalty,” she said. “He’ll move heaven and earth to find us.”

How she wished to be wrong on that. With their father so unhinged, she didn’t trust him to make rational choices.

The superintendent’s staff would wait a few hours, maybe a day, then contact Lachlan to report his father missing. Her brother would look in the obvious places and try cellphones. When no one picked up, he’d do rounds of the city officials. Had anyone seen their father? He’d call Steeple. And, yes, her brother would go to Stag.

What reception awaited him there? Would Conn’s men think he was in on the murder? That she was in on it?

Didn’t look good that the boss went out with his girlfriend and came back dead, with said girlfriend in the wind.

Silvio Manzani, McDade enemy and the don bribing her father, wouldn’t be any help. Not that Lachlan would look there given he didn’t believe their father’s duplicity.

Might he go to Evander? Yes. And boy could that blow up in his face.

All the landmines they’d left behind. Avoiding them would take a miracle on Lachlan’s part. Maybe her only chance for liberation was her sibling, though she wouldn’t hold her breath he’d last the week in the wake of their carnage.

Eventually Lachlan would learn Conn was dead. May learn Evander “Vex” Manzani had been shot; he could be dead too by this point.

The only desperate hope for any semblance of help and protection would be if Lach went to Strat first. Her friend, her best friend, maybe had the privilege of being the last man to see her alive.

Would her brother put pride before sense? He may not want to go to his ex’s father to ask for help. He may not call the ex-girlfriend who’d recently found new love. If pride won out, her brother would be in serious danger.

Her friendship with Strat was common knowledge. People from both factions, McDade and McLeod, had been working together at Stag. Should that make a difference to trust and approachability? Yes. Would it? With men, who could tell?

What about Strat? He wouldn’t have gone back to bed and slept through the morning. He’d be up, working to help her, to save her. He might go to Lachlan. Then, hopefully, she could rely on her friend to guide her brother.

Conn.

Strat was one of the few people who knew about their loft. And he had Niall’s number. If he called and got the lieutenant out of bed, they may have found Conn in time. Except who knew where they’d gone? How long would it take Niall and Strat to figure out they’d been at her grandfather’s? The longer it took, the more Conn bled.

And there was the other problem, McDades didn’t use hospitals with maximum resources. McDades had their own doctor. The guy had to be used to rooting out bullets and patching guys up. How was he with blood loss? If her love had—

“We can’t go back.” Her father’s pacing continued. “We can’t. Not together.”

“You can’t go back at all,” she said. “I’m a reporter, Ronald. You think for a second I won’t recount every minute, despicable detail of what happened last night? My mission, every day I live, will be to put the truth out there.”

He stopped pacing to glare, ah, now that was familiar. “I saved your life.”

Her mouth opened in unison with the widening of her eyes. She couldn’t even—the words just—laughter bubbled out.

---