by then, it had been too late.
“I have dreams about Kev, now and then,” he said quietly. “It’s no big deal anymore. I’m used to them. Don’t worry about it.”
The five of them maintained a heavy silence for the time it took to get to Sean’s condo. Images rolled around behind his closed eyes; writhing bodies, flashing lights, naked girls passed out in bed. Con’s predator, lurking like a troll under a bridge, eating geeks for breakfast.
And then the real kicker. The one he never got away from.
Liv staring at him, gray eyes huge with shock and hurt. Fifteen years ago today. The day that all the truly bad shit came down.
She’d come to the lock-up, rattled from her encounter with Kev. Tearful, because her folks were trying to bully her onto a plane for Boston. He’d been chilling in the drunk tank while Bart and Amelia Endicott tried to figure out how to keep him away from their daughter.
They needn’t have bothered. Fate had done their work for them.
The policeman hadn’t let her take Kev’s sketchbook in, but she’d torn Kev’s note out and stuck it in her bra. It was written in one of Dad’s codes. He could read those codes as easily as he read English.
Midnight Project is trying to kill me. They saw Liv. Will kill her if they find her. Make her leave town today or she’s meat. Do the hard thing. Proof on the tapes in EFPV. HC behind count birds B63.
He’d believed every goddamn word, at least the ones he’d understood. Why shouldn’t he have? Christ, he’d grown up in Eamon McCloud’s household. The man had believed enemies were stalking him every minute of his life. Up to the bitter end. Sean had never known a time that they weren’t on alert for Dad’s baddies. And besides, Kev had never led him wrong. Kev had never lied in his life. Kev was brilliant, brave, steady as a rock. Sean’s anchor.
Do the hard thing. It was a catchphrase of their father’s. A man did what had to be done, even if it hurt. Liv was in danger. She had to leave. If he told her this, she would resist, argue, and if she got killed, it would be his fault. For being soft. For not doing the hard thing.
So he’d done it. It was as simple as pulling the trigger of a gun.
He stuck the note in his pocket. Made his eyes go flat and cold.
“Baby? You know what? It’s not going to work out between us,” he said. “Just leave, OK? Go to Boston. I don’t want to see you anymore.”
She’d been bewildered. He’d repeated himself, stone cold. Yep, she heard him right. Nope, he didn’t want her anymore. Bye.
She floundered, confused. “But—I thought you wanted—”
“To nail you? Yeah. I had three hundred bucks riding on it. I like to keep things casual, though. You’re way too intense. You’ll have to get some college boy to pop your cherry, ’cause it ain’t me, babe.”
She stared at him, slack-jawed. “Three hundred…?”
“The construction crew. We had a pool going. I’ve been giving them a blow by blow. So to speak.” He laughed, a short, ugly sound. “But things are going too fucking slow. I’m bored with it.”
“B-b-bored?” she whispered.
He leaned forward, eyes boring into hers. “I. Do. Not. Love. You. Get it? I do not want a spoiled princess, cramping my style. Daddy and Mommy want to send you back East? Good. Get lost. Go.”
He waited. She was frozen solid. He took a deep breath, gathered his energy, flung the words at her like a grenade. “Fuck, Liv. Go!”
It had worked. She’d gone. She’d left for Boston, that very night.
He’d paid the price ever since. He knew just how those surgeons felt. The poor bastards you read about in magazines, the ones who fucked up and cut out the wrong eye, or lung, or kidney. Oops.
Seth pulled up at the curb outside Sean’s condo, pulled out his cell phone, and dangled it in front of Sean’s face. “Here.”
Seth waved it away. “Forget it. I don’t want—”
“Take it,” Seth snarled. “Or else I’ll hit you with it.”
Sean sighed, shoved it into his pocket.
“Short string gets to babysit this bozo til midnight.” Davy held out his huge fist. Four pieces of string dangled from it.
“Aw, shit,” Sean protested. “I don’t need—”
“Shut up,” Davy said harshly. He pulled out a string—long. Con grabbed his. Long. Seth and Miles drew.
Miles grunted in resignation. He had the short string.
“Congratulations. You got your work cut out for you,” Seth said.
“This is humiliating,” Sean complained.
“Tough. If you don’t like it, stop doing this to us every year.”
Sean shut his eyes. The weight of his eyelids made his eyeballs throb. Red bloomed like a bloodstain in his head. Black bloomed from the center and took its place. Red again. Then black. The drumbeat of his stubborn heart. And behind it, Kev’s pickup. Endlessly falling.
Miles shoved open the door and slid out. Sean followed him.
“Hey. Erin had a sonogram yesterday,” Connor said abruptly.
“Oh, yeah?” he inquired politely. “Everything’s fine, I trust?”
“Yeah, everything’s great. It’s a boy,” Con said.
“Ah. Uh…good. Congratulations.” He felt like he should say something more profound, but his mind was as blank as the white sky.
“We’re going to name him Kevin,” Con added.
Something squeezed like a vise around his larynx, horribly tight.
Con laid his hand on Sean’s shoulder. “It helps, you know?” his brother said, his voice intense. “Trying to make a difference. And if it all comes together and you get there in time to save somebody, oh, man. It’s the best damn thing in the world. It makes up for so much.”
“Yeah? And then? What happens after? When the thrill is gone?”
Connor hesitated. “You get out there and do it again.”
Sean nodded. “Right,” he muttered. “It never lasts, does it?”
“No,” Connor admitted. “But then again. What does?”
Sean contemplated that. “Sounds pointless and exhausting.”
His brother did not contradict him. He just turned away, his face stony. Sean let the door swing shut. The Chevy sped away.
Chapter 2
Sean
