“Ask me!” I yelled, yanking him away from the wall only to slam him against it a second time.
“H-how do you know?”
“I saw her tonight. Her and my twins.”
“Twins? I didn’t know. I didn’t…” He closed his eyes, muttering, “Feck.”
“So I’m going to ask you one more time, why’d you do it?”
“Because I was given an order to tell you she was dead and I followed it.”
My lungs seized, partly from his declaration––which showed no hint of remorse––but mostly, it was the implications of what he’d said which left me breathless. Like an idiot, I’d assumed he’d acted alone. The possibility of otherplayers hadn’t crossed my mind, even though it probably should’ve been my first thought. Niall was a pawn, a yes-man, not a mastermind.
Shoving away from him, I paced the floor, trying to make sense of the senseless. Who would want me to believe Sloane was dead and why? What was the point? She had nothing to do with the case. A memory tugged at the corners of my mind. It was fragmented at first, bits and pieces of an intense conversation. Then it all came flooding back.
“You’ve lost your mind, Duncan.”
“I won’t keep lying to her.”
“Do you hear yourself? You’re talking about putting our entire investigation at risk over some chick you met three months ago.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m telling her my name, not who really shot JFK.”
“Feck’s sake, you little prick. This isn’t a joke.”
“It’s not, so hear me when I say, I’d give up everything for her, including my job. I love her.”
“No, you love the pussy she’s been giving you on the regular.”
“Watch your mouth, asshole.”
“I will, when you stop thinking with your dick.”
The vision faded like a puff of smoke. In a blink, the hotel room came back into focus. Niall stood in front of me, clapping his hands in front of my face. Between his fake look of concern and my jaunt down memory lane, I realized something important. Those consequences I’d deliberated earlier? They only became a reality if his heart stopped beating. Besides, family was always worth the risk.
I struck fast. My hand shot out, connecting with his windpipe. He stumbled back, gasping for air, and I used themomentum to sweep his legs with mine, knocking him off his feet. Following him down, I straddled his waist, effectively trapping his arms at his sides with my thighs. When his hips bucked in a weak attempt to throw me off-balance, it only fueled my fire.
“You told someone I was jeopardizing the investigation. Who was it?”
“That’s”––he coughed––“above your pay grade.”
“Above my pay grade, huh? We’ll see.”
I had one answer, but thinking back, it had been less than twenty-four hours between our argument and the accident. Was it happenstance or something more? A sick feeling churned low in my stomach as I considered the new possiblity.
Lurching forward, I landed with my palms on either side of his face. “Was my cover actually blown or was the accident a direct result of your betrayal?”
His eyes bore into me. “The entire operation was bigger than you or me, Duncan. It still is.”
Standing, I planted my foot in his chest. Getting an actual response from him was like trying to get blood from a turnip. It was useless and I was done. D-O-N-E. Done.
“You fucked with the wrong person, Niall.”
Sloane
There was never a doubt in my mind I’d see Rogan James again. For a brief moment after waking up in the hospital room alone, I considered the possibility he may not have survived the accident, but I dismissed the thought as quickly as it had occurred. His soul was too entangled with mine for me not to feel the weight of his loss. He was out there…alive…somewhere.
My brother, Finn, was the only person who believed someone else had been in the accident with me. Statements from the first responders claimed they’d found a singular victim lying on the ground some distance away from the burned-out shell of a car. Singular. Just me.