Page 64 of Retribution
Lorcan frowns. “Let me double-check it when you get it.” His fingers toy with mine as though he doesn’t realize he’s doing it.
My stomach flutters at the way his fingers skim along mine. I need to meet Malik in a dark alley. These pent-up urges will undo me.
We drive in silence for a while before I remember something else that’s been bothering me. “What’s the tune Finn whistles sometimes?”
Lorcan’s focus turns to me. “He’s been feeling quite pleased with himself, has he?”
“A few times.”
“It’s an old Irish ditty our father used to sing when he had too much to drink.”
“Hmm…”
Lorcan raises his eyebrows. “Why’s that?”
“I don’t know. Something about it seemed familiar. I don’t know why.”
“It’s not a popular tune.” He releases my hand he’s been playing with. He chuckles, but it holds no humor as he glances out the window. “Fellas at The Cage used to mock him with it.”
I cock my head to the side and give him an encouraging look. Any mention of The Cage piques my interest.
“He didn’t play any music when he entered. He whistled himself into the ring.”
“Brave.”
“Oh, Finn’s all kinds of brave.” One of Lorcan’s hands skates through the back of his hair. The words are flattering, but his tone is not. “You lived round here for a while, yeah? It’s possible you heard it on the street. He was a big deal in the underground circuit. You know any fighters as a kid?”
I shake my head while my insides flip, threatening to flop out my mouth. “No.”
The word doesn’t come out as clear as it should. Would my brother have mocked Finn? Sometimes I hung around him and his friends. Did they whistle that tune? Laugh about it? It wouldn’t have meant anything then.
I drive into the parking lot of the care facility and find a space close to the door. “We’re here.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The building is a single story and appears more like an overgrown bungalow than a hospital or long-term care facility. One thing my job has afforded me is the ability to put my mother somewhere nice, even if she doesn’t have a clue it’s the best.
“You’ll wait here?” I ask.
“Sure you don’t want me to come in?” Lorcan’s voice is soft, and his eyes sincere. “I got these big shoulders you can lean on if you like.”
Without thinking, I run my hand down his arm. “Maybe later.”
He catches my hand and gives it a squeeze. “You’re armed?”
“Always.”
“Anything seems off, I’m coming in.”
“It’s an old-age home. It’s hardly a guns-blazing scenario.”
He doesn’t laugh at my joke. Instead, his eyes burn with more intensity. “I protect my own.”
“It’ll be fine.” I rub his cheek with my thumb. “Promise.” This place isn’t part of my cover story. If he comes in, he’ll learn more than he bargained.
He tips his chin in the direction of the building. “Text me if you want me to come in.”
I nod and climb out of the car. At the door to the facility, I enter then stop at the front desk to check in. Mom hasn’t been eating. The worker explains it’s most likely the start of a severe decline. Her semi lucid days are numbered.