Page 130 of Wicked Duty
“Slán as anois, Finn, my beautiful boy.”
Finn
I shove a hand through my hair. “Donal? Have you heard from Da?”
My father’s cousin shakes his head. “The recon team hasn’t found the car yet.”
I swallow a groan, leaning back in my father’s leather office chair. I splay my hands on his thick wooden desk.
Twelve hours. We haven’t heard a word from him intwelve hours. My father doesn’t fall off the face of the earth like this. He rarely leaves the estate anymore. But last night, he just disappeared, taking his driver and his favorite car and heading into the night like some vigilante.
Cian rests a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sure it’s fine. Maybe his phone just died. You know he’s still not great about charging it. He lives like he’s in the seventies.”
I snort. “Yeah, but Tom’s usually better about it.”
The door to the office opens, and Riley pokes her head in. “Any news?”
I guess my expression is enough, because she crosses the room and sits on the edge of the chair. She’d never do that if my dad were here.
“We’ll hear soon. I’m sure.” She strokes my hair. I have to force myself not to melt into her touch.
What the hell is my dad thinking? He’s got responsibilities. If I’d done this, he would’ve tanned my?—
Donal’s phone rings. He answers, then passes it to me. “My son.”
Out of nowhere, a sudden chill sweeps my body. “Darren. What’d you find?”
“The car.” Darren’s voice is tight. Clipped. Not at all like his usual self.
My chest fills with rocks. “And?”
“Tom’s dead. And?—”
“My dad?”
“Shane’s…he’s gone, Finn.”
The phone clatters from my hand, falling with athud.
Cian snatches it from the desk and steps away. “Report, Darren.”
I glance up at Riley.
Her cheeks are pale, her hand frozen at the base of her throat.
Shane. Da.
Old Bulletproof can’t be…he…
My father isn’t…
Riley cups my cheek, fingertips trembling. “Finn…”
I jerk away, push up from the desk, and accidentally knock over the glass skull paperweight from the corner of the wood. It shatters against the floor, a million shining diamonds blinking in the lamplight.
My father isn’t dead. He can’t bedead.
I can’t lose someone else. Not again.
