Page 67 of The Secrets We Share

“I don’t know what you two think we can plan for. The way I see it, if this doesn’t end in some old western shoot-out and we walk away without any new holes in our bodies, I’ll call it a win.” I tell them and drop into one of the chairs in front of Harkin’s desk.

James leans against the massive bookshelves, his arms crossed tightly against his chest. He doesn’t respond, but the look he shoots me tells me he has some opinions on my assessment.

“We’re doing what we can to ensure we walk out of that pub in one piece.”

“So, extra guys around the building. How many do you think can find hiding places between the three of us all having them on standby? Having those two in one place is the NYPD’s wet dream.”

“You’re not wrong there.” James finally speaks. “I’m confident the building will be surrounded, likely the rooftops too. Plus, Domenico's security will consider any quick escape. But this place is in Patrick’s pocket. It’s his home turf. I’m shocked he got your father to agree to meet him there.”

“Don’t call him that.”

“You can try to deny it all you want, Keira, but you’re a Morelli by blood. That shit isn’t going away,” James chides.

“Don’t forget my other half,” I remind him sarcastically, as if any of us could. “So, what I’m hearing is we show up and hope for the best. Great plan.” I huff and pop up from my chair, heading for the office door. There goes the last hour of trying to shut down the possibilities running through my mind. Maybe I can convince Harkin to fuck me senseless.

I leave them to theirplans,escaping into the quiet of our bedroom. My body hits the mattress with a bounce, and I sink into the blankets, wishing they’d swallow me whole and deposit me into a new reality.

This is ridiculous. This sullen feeling sorry for myself and the situation is annoying even me. “Ugh!” I huff into the comforter, vocalizing my frustration.

My thigh starts to vibrate, and I reach into the pocket of my leggings to snag my phone free. The phone continues, letting me know it’s a call, not a text. Stacey’s beautiful face shows on the screen.

“Where are you?” I ask by way of greeting my best friend.

“I’m glad you asked, because I need you to come here now.” There’s worry deep in her tone.

I push off the mattress, sit up, and look around, making sure I can’t hear the guys from here. “What’s going on? Tell me where you are right now. Should I tell James?”

“God, no. Don’t tell him. Just come. I’m at home. I fucked up, Keira.” She pauses. “So, fucked,” she whispers, but it’s more to herself than me.

I stay on the line, quietly pulling my shoes on and stepping out into the hall. I can hear Harkin and James in the office, and I creep in the opposite direction toward the front door. There’s no reason for the theatrics. He’ll know when I open the front doorand race for the elevator. I’ll be lucky to make it on before he’s after me. But this is my best friend, and I’ll deal with his ire when I get back or, more likely, when he catches up.

“Okay, I’m coming! I’ll be there as soon as I can.” I hang up the phone, and the elevator dings.

“Keira!” he roars down the hallway, but the elevator doors close on his arrival. Something slams against the other side; if I had to guess, it’s his fist.

My intention isn’t to make him worry, but her adamant refusal to let James come with me is concerning. Would Harkin keep it from him if I ask? He once said something that makes me think he wouldn’t.

I shoot him off a text anyway.

I’m not running into trouble. I’ll be safe. And you know how to find me. Please don’t be mad.

His reply is almost instant.

Get your ass back here right now, Keira. You know I’m right behind you, and when I get to you, sweetness, that idea of chaining you to me looks more like your reality.

I can’t help the chuckle that falls from my lips. He threatens that like it’s a bad thing. I race through the building’s front door and down the steps to the sidewalk. I won’t chance the subway, but I also need to get away from our building as soon as possible before I’m accosted on foot.

It must be my lucky day, because a woman climbs from a taxi to my left. I wait until she moves away from the door and hop in, slamming it behind me. The cabbie jumps when I shout the address a little louder than necessary in my haste to get moving.

A hand slaps against the door, but we’re pulling away from the curb, and it doesn’t give Harkin enough time to grab the handle and stop us. My eyes lock with his through the window, and instead of the fury I expect, I see so much hurt that my stomach churns with guilt and despair.

My phone dings again in my hands. The unexpected noise pulls my eyes from the window into my lap.

Why?

The one word settles like stones in my gut. I just hope whatever is going on with Stacey is worth the trouble this little escape will cause.

My rushed footsteps echo off the narrow hallway as I finally reach Stacey’s front door. Shoving my key into the lock, I swing the door open and slam it behind me, not trying to hide my arrival.

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