TWENTY-SEVEN
“WORD?” DAIRE ASKED. “What word? Where is he? Who’s he got?”
“They were south of the border. Hit some trouble of their own,” Harry said. “I didn’t get the details.”
Sitting up, she pushed her fists into the mattress to boost herself toward the foot of the bed.
“At least we know he’s alive,” Styx said.
She stopped. It wasn’t Styx’s presence… it was… something else. Focusing on Daire’s back, she tuned out the men’s conversation, trying to figure out what was still niggling at her.
In a flash, a memory hit her. Hard. So hard that she gasped.
Daire stopped talking to turn around and look at her. “Babe?”
Quickly scooching down the bed, she grabbed for him to pull herself onto her feet. But her love was just her steady support, it was her father’s eyes she sought.
“You kill
