Page 76 of Reclaim (Deadly Hearts 3)

“Murder, mayhem, racketeering, illegal gambling, counterfeiting, money laundering, arson, suspected act of terrorism and probably some other stuff.”

He rubs his hand over his face. “Jesus. Your mother is going to kill me for this.”

“After she’s done with me. You will witness your youngest daughter’s slaughter before you experience your own.”

“Ruby, this isn’t a joke.”

“Who’s joking?” I shrug.

“What Boomer did to you…”

His expression filled with the deepest angst I’ve ever seen, hits me in the heart. “It’s fine,” I choke out.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Ruby. None of this should be happening. I think it’s time you came home.”

“What?” I snap. “You’re recalling me? Fuck that, Daddi-o. I’m not a fucking child. My life is here, my business is here. My men are here.”

“Men,” he snarls, but I don’t get to hear what he has to say about that nugget, because with epically bad timing, in races David, Ramsey, Layton and Declan, the only one missing is Cillian, but he is off drinking with his new crew, safe and sound.

I hope.

“Fuck’s sake,” Rex mutters, pressing his fingers to his eyes as if that’s going to make them magically disappear when he opens them again.

Yeah, nope. Sorry. Still there.

I give them a bright beam. “Everyone okay?”

“Are you?” David asks first.

“Yep. How did you know I had to get here?”

“Anonymous tip,” he murmurs conspiratorially.

I glance over his shoulder at St. Clare, who raises his glass to me before turning back to his conversation partner.

“Huh. Well, this evening has been fun, if a little draining. I want to go home.”

“The police ransacked that as well,” Layton says quietly.

The blood drains from my face. “Smith?” I ask.

“They took the box.”

“FUCK!” I roar, slamming my hand on the bar and causing quite a scene when I swipe my glass onto the floor, rage filling every single cell in my body. It was the one thing that was keeping me going minute by minute. Knowing I had him, knowing he was dust…

“We’ll get it back,” Declan states, also not happy about this after all the trouble he went to in the first place. “I know you need it,” he adds softly.

My shoulders sag and this day, this week, this month, this year gets on top of me, and I call for defeat. I don’t have the strength to keep going.

I just don’t.

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