Page 154 of Riordan's Revenge

I winced. There were two unpleasant conversations to be had, so it might as well be now. “I need to talk to Genevieve in private, for which ye should probably be there, and then I’ll bring Shade into the conversation to answer that question. Follow me.”

Along with Riordan as my quiet, constant support, and kind-of prisoner, I led them to the far side of the room, to where the city lights spread out beyond the arched, brick-lined window.

I centred on Genevieve. “I’m really sorry to tell ye this, but the conversation I overheard before Lonnie took me into the room was between Red and your father.”

Her mouth rounded. “My dad was there?”

“He put himself forward as Bronson’s replacement and had this whole speech where he listed the murders and claimed he was responsible.”

Shock widened her eyes. Arran ran an arm around her, and Riordan muttered a quiet swearword behind me.

“Could…?” She swallowed and tried again. “Could he have been telling the truth?”

I’d already considered and dismissed the idea. “He’s as much the killer as Sin is a ballerina. He listed the murders like he was reciting it from an article. It was clearly a ploy for attention.”

“That’s why he had those papers in his flat,” Riordan said.

Genevieve inclined her head, sorrow hanging heavy over her. “We went to try to find him, and he had newspaper clippings all over his coffee table and a knife, as well. It makes sense now. He was rehearsing so he could get a job. Stupid, stupid man. Do you think he, you know…?”

I got the end of her sentence without her saying it. She wanted to know if he’d died. I gave her a gentle smile. “I don’t know for certain, but he was standing the other side of Red. I’m really sorry.”

Arran kissed her forehead, and Riordan pulled her into a hug, his hand held back by the cuffs sliding to enclose mine in such a sweet move it hurt my heart.

It bolstered me for the other half of the bad news I had to give.

When Genevieve had collected herself, I gestured for Shade to join us. The enforcer strolled over, one hand to his tattooed throat.

I looked between him and Arran. “The person who pulled me out of the destroyed room was Convict.”

Twin expressions of pain and emotion rippled over their faces. It socked me in the gut, too. The memory of the broken man. His certainty over his fate and all he’d still managed to do for me.

Shade recovered first. “But Bronson told us he was dead.”

“He lied. It looked like he’d been through hell, though.”

“Did he talk to ye?”

“Hardly anything. I was half unconscious so I wasn’t sure who he was until after.”

Arran wheeled away, concealing whatever he couldn’t keep inside. Genevieve went with him, and he embraced her.

He buried his face in her hair for a moment, taking comfort that I knew everyone in the room was noticing. My brothers had always said that Arran resisted emotional connections like they would scald him. I hated that I had to break this one for him.

He returned to me. “What happened after he got you out?”

“He pushed me through a hole he’d smashed through a coal chute in a narrow passageway but said he was too injured to climb out after. I think I passed out again, because the next thing I knew, Rio was calling my name.”

“We don’t know he’s dead,” Arran decided.

Shade nodded. “No body, no grieving.”

I liked that. The hope, even if it was futile.

Arran’s phone buzzed. He took in the screen, and his mouth fell open. His gaze came to me. “After you told me about Lonnie, I messaged the security team. Guess who just turned up downstairs?”

Shock and delight filled me. “He’s alive, and he came back?”

“The dumb fuck did. Manny put him in my office with a guard but has given him no indication that we know what he did.”

---