Whiskey and Wry (Sinners Series) (22 page)

“Yeah, I know,” Kane consoled. “We’re trying to get a hold of your father, but so far, no one’s had any luck reaching him.”

“I sure as fuck don’t know where he is.” He snorted under his breath, spooned up some soup, and slid the almost-too-hot liquid into his mouth. Huffing at the heat, he swallowed, then shook his head.

“When we find him, do you want to talk to him?” The cop held up his hands in mock surrender when Damien shot him a cold look over the mug’s rim. “It’s your call. Shit’s going to start to get very real for you over the next couple of days. Too many people saw you come in, and after being printed, a lot of people know you’re alive now. It’s going to be crazy. When you’re done, we’re going to take you out to the back of the station. My brother Connor’s just bought a Hummer—big black thing with dark windows, so we’re going to sneak you out in that. He’ll take you, Miki, and Sionn to our house. I’ll be home as soon as I can. There’s a gate—”

“Your house?” Damien cocked his head. “Miki didn’t tell me you lived there with him. Okay, no… wait, he did. With the dog.”

“Yeah, I moved in about a month ago.” Kane smiled. “It seemed stupid to pay for an apartment when I was there most of the time, and the workshop space I rent is just next door. Besides, with me around, he gets some food into him. Well, food that’s not made out of chemicals. I’m not surprised you forgot. You guys had a lot to catch up on.”

“Some. Mostly we were just… being us.” It was odd, having to explain to another man the rightness of Miki. Kane probably had to work around the minefield, probably blew himself up a few times before he knew the way in, but Damien could fly right through. He didn’t need to think about it. Shit, he’d more than likely laid a few of those mines himself. Miki probably laid down a few of Damie’s. Anything to protect one another. Anything to protect themselves.

Then Kane said something Damien never imagined he’d hear the man admit.

“I’m really fucking happy you’re here. That you’re alive. He loves you a lot. It nearly killed him when you died. I came after that, and I could see it. I love him, and I know I’m good for him, but having you here is going to go a long way in healing those broken bits inside of him.”

“You okay with all this shit?” He stirred the soup, releasing the heat onto his face. Damien stared down at the swirling noodles, carrots, and broth, wondering if he’d ever begin to feel something other than dead inside. “I mean… me coming back. I’d figured you’d be… pissed. Maybe jealous. You’ve had him to yourself for so long….”

“When I hooked up with Miki, he didn’t ask me to give up Connor or Quinn. Or any of the others.” The cop leaned forward until Damie could feel the heat of the man’s body against his side. “I’m not going to ask him to give you up. Hell, I’m fucking ecstatic that you’re here. There’s enough room for both of us in his heart. Shit, it gets pretty crowded sometimes. ’Course we’re going to have to share him with Dude and my dad. Those two are fucking tight. He and Dad. Dude, you can bribe him with a cookie.”

“I missed him so fucking much,” Damien admitted softly. He refused to cry. Refused to let his tired and his emotions get the best of him. Still, his eyes pricked and threatened to spill when he dared to let his mind drift over to his wide-shouldered Irishman. “Sionn… he’s… fuck, I don’t know what he is. Or what he thinks
I
am. But I need him. As much as I need Miki. Especially right now. This is such a fucking mess.”

“He’s a good guy. One of the best. Really, even if he wasn’t my cousin, I’d be happy he found you.” Kane patted Damien on the back. “It’ll be okay, D. We’ll take care of you.”

“That’s standard now for cops? Shuttling people around in Hummers? Righting their wrongs? Pulling their shit together?” He tried to sound flippant, but in his ears, it came off as pathetic.

“No, we’re doing that because you’re family.” Kane ruffled his hair, and Damien pulled away, partially disgusted at the rough affection. “You know he’s got everything you’d left behind? From the place you guys shared? It’s all packed up and in boxes in one of the rooms. Except for some beat-ass guitar. He plays on that.”

“So you’ve been living with a ghost? How’d that work out for you?”

“I was living with him missing his brother.” Kane’s reproach was soft but firm. “And now you’re back, so quit being an asshole about it and let him love you. I know it’s hard right now. Too much… has happened, but he’s there for you. We all are, Damie. Okay?”

Miki’s cop was sincere. Hell, he dripped sincerity like the bridge wept water during a heavy fog. Nodding once, Damien mumbled, “Yeah, okay.”

“Now, tell me everything you remember about the guy who shot at you.”

“Dude, I went over this like twelve times already.” Damie rolled his eyes. “Blond, huge, ugly, and creepy. I even did the thing with the sketch artist. He shot Jerome, the guy who was assigned to me at Skywood. Can’t run, but then I had someone shooting at me. It’s like the whole ‘you’ve got to run faster than the guy behind you, not the bear.’”

Kane opened the folder and pulled out a pair of photos. They were headshots, professionally done to capture the best assets of the man and woman posing for them. The woman was polished and made up, draped with a tasteful string of pearls and a blonde helmet of fine hair. Classically handsome, the middle-aged man’s bright white smile and confident set of his shoulders made him the perfect choice if someone’d wanted to cast an anchorman in a video.

Or if someone needed a couple to pretend to be an institutionalized patient’s parents.

“Fucking hell.” Damie pulled the man’s photo closer, tugging it out of Kane’s fingers. “That’s the guy who said he was my dad. Both of them were at Skywood. They were my fake parents. This is so fucking weird. She kept hugging me, but it was awkward, you know? Like she didn’t know how tall I was or something.”

“They’re dead,” Kane said softly. “Both of them are actors from Seattle. As far as we know, it looks like they were hired to do some commercial work. Or at least that’s what their families said. A bank camera across the street caught an image of a man leaving the woman’s—Stacey Winter’s—apartment. When I ran an ID search on the sketch you helped give, we got a hit on their murders.” He removed another photo and slid a paper filled with a grainy image across to Damien. “Take a good look at that guy’s face and tell me what you think.”

He studied the man in the photo, his blood chilling in his veins. The camera had captured the woman’s killer as he turned to look down the street, catching him nearly full on the face. A light gleamed from somewhere across the way, and it caught his eyes, turning them nearly feral and reflective. His short blond hair was nearly hidden beneath a beanie pulled down low on his forehead, but enough of it peeked out, the bright strands nearly a match for his pale face. With his thin mouth set hard, he was focused solely on crossing the road, his quick trot leaving a trail of smeared pixels on the camera’s data.

Damien didn’t have to look long. He’d seen that look… on that man right after he shot Jerome. It was the look of a killer whose work wasn’t quite done and his next target was close by.

“Yeah, that’s him.” Damien shoved the paper back at Kane. “That’s the guy who tried to kill me. Now when were you going to tell me that he’s probably also the guy who murdered my mom?”

E
VEN
though Kane warned him, nothing could prepare Damien for the sea of cameras and faces behind the Hummer’s darkened glass. The media took pictures of everything and everyone who came and went from the station, even the massive, rumbling vehicle forced to inch past them through the stream of people crossing the street to get a glimpse inside.

“They don’t know you’re in here.” Damien didn’t think he’d met Connor back at the Morgans’, but it was hard to be sure. They all seemed to be large, muscular men with cop-wary eyes. This one was huge, even deeper-voiced than Kane, and his broad hands flexed over the steering wheel, impatient with the reporters clinging to the side of his car. “Fucking leeches.”

“Can’t hit them, Con. The courts will still call it murder.” Sionn leaned forward and patted his cousin on the shoulder. “Just get us through it, okay?”

The Hummer was wide enough for Miki and Sionn to sit on either side of him on the backseat, although Connor made a small crack about being a chauffeur when he’d come out of the station and found them all squished in together.

They were silent on the drive, but Damien’s hands were held tight on either side of him, Sionn’s wide thumb stroking the pulse at his wrist. He didn’t see any of the city they drove through, and blinked in surprise when they pulled in front of an iron gate blocking off the L of a side street. More people loitered there, cameras flashing bright starbursts, and Connor dialed an access number from his phone, triggering the gate to open.

“Won’t they just follow us in?” Damien twisted around to see if any of the reporters ducked in behind the gate.

“Nah, Kane pretty much arrests them for trespassing. Sometimes it takes a while for them to get out.” Miki snorted. “We put the gate up after he punched one of them out. Dude bit a guy. Tried to sue, but he was on my property. Judge told him he was lucky Kane didn’t shoot him.”

Connor guided the Hummer into one of the open bays, then got out to close the door behind them. Opening the back door, he nodded at Sionn. “You’re clear. Let me check the house. Don’t want any surprises.”

“I don’t know if I can live like this.” Damie crawled out of the vehicle. “I feel like…. I dunno. Shit. I don’t know what I’m saying. This is too crazy.”

“It’s not always going to be like this,” Miki reassured him. “Things will get back to normal.”

“Whatever the fuck normal is.” Damien gave his brother a weak smile. Sionn came up behind him and wrapped strong arms around Damien’s chest. He leaned into the man, grateful to have Sionn there. “Fucking hell, I’m so damned tired.”

“It’s been a shit long day,” Sionn agreed. He kissed the slope of Damien’s neck, nuzzling the spot. “Let’s see about feeding you guys. Then maybe you can crash.”

“There’s a bathroom upstairs.” Miki was about to say more when a blond terrier shot out of the house, wiggling with excitement. He bent over and ran his hands through the dog’s fur, chucking it under its chin as it crooned Wookiee noises at him. “Damie, meet Dude. Dude, this is Damie. Try not to chew on his toes.”

“Fuck, a dog. A boyfriend. You’ve gotten all tame and domesticated while I was dead.” He’d meant it to tease, but his voice ran flat, cutting an edge through his words. He saw the spark of hurt in Miki’s eyes, and he stepped away from Sionn, reaching for his friend. “Sinjun, fuck… I didn’t mean….”

“Yeah, I know.” Miki hugged him, nearly cracking his ribs with a tight embrace. “Your mom’s gone, and we just found each other again. A lot of ups and downs today. I know, man. No need to say anything else. It’s all good. Come on in. I’ve got to take Dude outside to pee, and Connor’s probably checking the bathroom drains for shower monsters. He’s kind of anal.”

“Fuck,” Damie spat after Miki went through the door to the warehouse, the dog close on his heels. Pacing in a small circle, he gritted his teeth and wrapped his arms around his waist. “Fucking
stupid
. Fuck. Fuck.
Fuck
.”

“He said it’s okay,” Sionn reassured him, pulling his arms away from his body. “Let it go, Damie boy. Let’s go inside.”

“I hurt him. Not even back for a day and I’m already making him bleed.” Damien stepped back from Sionn, refusing to be mollified. “What the fuck am I doing?”

“You’re hurting.” The man refused to be shoved out. Sionn grabbed at Damie’s waistband and pulled him back in. “He knows that. Miki loves you. We both do. Don’t worry about it right now.”

“You don’t even know me. And hell, he hasn’t seen me in how long? Neither one of you can
love
me. Shit, you didn’t even know my fucking name.” He pushed slightly against Sionn, but the man held on tight. “He’s happy, Sionn. I don’t want to fuck that up.”

“It’s not going to be fucked up,” Sionn murmured. “And yeah, I’m right fond of you, Damie boy. So for right now, we’re going to go inside, get some food, then maybe find a bed to fall into. And I’m going to spend the night holding you while you sleep, because I can’t think of anything else you need more.”

There in the silence of the warehouse’s garage, Damien felt the wall break, and he choked, first on the sorrow filling him, then on the tide of pain pouring up from his chest. It hit him without warning, anguish tearing through him. Sobbing, he stumbled, blind and numb, but Sionn was there, a wall of warmth and strength he could cling to.

He cried, more tears that he didn’t think he had in him. Through the murmur of white noise, he heard a whisper of Miki asking if he was okay, then Sionn saying they’d be right in. He wanted to tell Miki he was fine, but he couldn’t find the words inside of him.

The silence returned, punctuated only by his crying and Sionn’s murmurs of raw, river-stone Gaelic. Eventually, he felt the hard rub of his lover’s hands on his back and the brush of his mouth on his cheek and forehead, small caresses meant to soothe away the pain crackling through Damie’s soul.

Finally, he found something to say, a small whisper of anguish hiding deep inside of him.

“He killed my mother, Irish.
My mother
.” Clutching at Sionn, he breathed in the man’s masculine scent, needing the familiar to drive out the cold lodged in him. “And I’m scared to death he’s going to kill you too.”

Chapter 13