Page 46 of Deceive Me
“Stab wound,” Saint muttered.
Clear, cold rage rose. “How did this happen?”
“He was supposed to be patrolling close to the house,” Dain said, handing Deacon a wet cloth.
Deacon cleaned away some of the blood to assess the chest wound. Not critical, thank God. The puncture was high on Fionn’s left shoulder, in the hollow beneath the join of collarbone and arm. Not too deep. They’d had ten times worse out in the field without flinching. Fionn would never have passed out or panicked from a wound like this. But his friend’s gaze was too disoriented for Deacon’s liking despite the compliance he showed with Deacon’s commands. Compliance in itself was disturbing—Fionn might obey, but not without a smart-ass comment.
“Concussion, I think.” Feeling along the back of Fionn’s skull, he found a lump and a long, thin cut where the skin had been broken open. No cracks in the bone that he could feel, but he’d let a doctor rule that out. He shifted Fionn slightly onto his side to show Dain. “He was hit on the back of the head.”
“We have a doctor on call specifically for JCL. We can get him out here without having to take Fionn to the hospital,” Dain assured him. “Unless there’s someone at GFS you want us to call.”
“Discreet?”
“The most.”
“JCL is closer. Do it.” He tucked one of the dry clothes Saint handed him under Fionn’s head, then used a second as a pad against the still-bleeding stab wound. “How’d you find him?”
“We didn’t,” Dain told him. “He stumbled into the kitchen a few minutes ago.”
“Wound is fresh,” Deacon muttered. “Couldn’t have happened long ago. Anyone do a check?”
“I did,” King said as he walked through the back door to join them. “No sign of an intruder, nothing out of place. Just a patch of bloody grass near the north side of the fence. I did find a trail of white powder at the fence’s base, but no sign of any damage.”
“Did you get a sample?”
King held up a small plastic bag. Deacon could barely see a white substance inside. “Yes.”
“Was there another alarm?”
King jerked his head in a negative.
“Fucking Mansa. How the hell did he get inside without us knowing it?” And then another fear hit him—if Mansa could get inside the fence, could he have also gotten inside the house? He glanced over his shoulder. “Elliot, go get Sydney, bring her down here with us.”
Fionn surged up, catching Deacon off guard, knocking him on his ass as a growl of rage erupted. “No!” Between one second and the next, Fionn had Elliot pinned to the wall, every ounce of his considerable weight seeming to rest on the hand around her throat. Even weaving, he was strong enough to keep her there, but Deacon noticed she didn’t fight his hold. Her breath might be choked off, but her eyes were cool, calculating. Considering.
Deacon moved cautiously to his feet, something inside him going very still. “Fionn?”
From the corner of his eye Deacon saw Dain and Saint move in on either side. He held up a hand. Both men paused.
“Talk to me, Irish!”
Fionn shook his head as if trying to clear it, but again he responded to the command in Deacon’s voice. “She’s a traitor.”
Deacon swore his heart stuttered to a stop at his friend’s rough words. “What?”
More weaving. “She’s…” He leaned his forehead against the wall, and Deacon took the opportunity to move a few steps closer. Fionn’s eyes were closed, a crease between his brows—pain. “She’s…” His eyes snapped open, his gaze boring into Elliot’s. “He had a message for you. Called you by name. He said to be telling you, ‘Hello, Daughter.’”
Shock hit Deacon like a kick to the gut. “What?”
“‘Hello, Daughter.’ That’s what he said. ‘I won’t kill this one. He’s my gift to you.’”
“Who?” Deacon demanded.
“Mansa.”
But it wasn’t Fionn who said the name. It was Elliot, her voice straining against the force of Fionn’s hold. Deacon’s gaze met hers. For a moment time stopped and the eyes he saw were the soft, shy blue ones reflecting back his pleasure as he’d slid inside her over and over last night. The eyes that had teared up when her climax hit. The eyes that had seemed to hold nothing back as she gave herself over to him just a few short minutes ago in the shower.
And then his vision cleared and he saw the blank slate that she had become.
