Deklan makes himself another drink before rejoining me on the couch.  He turns sideways with his back against the arm and his foot up on the cushion and reaches out to me.  My chest is tight, and my stomach feels as if a nest of bees is having a party inside of it, but I go to him, resting by back against his chest as he wraps his arms around me.

“I’d heard about the kidnapping,” Deklan says.  “It wasn’t on the nightly news, but this business has its own networks for such information.  I hadn’t really paid much attention to it before your father asked for a meeting, and Fergus sat him down in the office.”

“He went to ask the Foleys for the ransom money,” I say.

“Yes.  He didn’t have enough, and he was already in debt to Fergus.  He said he had no one else to turn to, and he was afraid you would be killed if he didn’t meet the deadline.”

Deklan hugs me close for a moment before he continues.

“I’ve never thought much of your father.  I think you’ve probably figured that out.  He was always on the fringes of the organization, never in the fold, so to speak, and he wanted to get closer.  He knew that if he was laundering the Foley’s money, he’d be set for life even with his gambling habit.  Fergus never wanted to do business with him, not on that scale.  He was too unreliable and desperate.

“Even when he was there, begging for your life to be saved, I got the impression it wasn’t concern for you in his heart but concern for his reputation if he were to let something happen to you.  It annoyed me.  To me, Cormick O’Conner had everything—a wife, a kid, a bunch of successful businesses—and he squandered it all.  He blew it on fucking poker, and I figured it was probably his bookie that had his kid.

“When your dad offered Fergus anything in the world to get the money for his kid, Fergus saw an opportunity.  He’d been having problems with Sean.  He wasn’t falling in step the way his father wanted him to, and he was close to his eighteenth birthday.  Fergus was looking for a way to get him to wise up and take some responsibility.

“Your dad was thrilled with the idea.  Marrying his kid to the Foley heir would bring him that much closer to the organization, which was exactly what he wanted.  It absolved him of his debt to the Foleys, and he didn’t have to worry about coming up with ransom money at all.  He was all smiles when he walked out, and I just kept thinking, ‘How can this dude be happy when he has no idea what his kid is going through right now?’  As soon as he was gone, Fergus called me over.  He handed me the picture your father had given to him along with a piece of paper.

“‘That’s the address where she’s being held,’ he told me.  ‘Take the rest of the day off.  Wait sixteen hours and then go pick her up.  If you go too soon, it will look suspicious.’”

“He already knew where I was?”

“Yeah.”

“How?”

“I have no idea.  I never asked.  Fergus had a dozen informants all over the city.  He usually knew everything that was going on, especially if someone was operating in his territory.”

Deklan reaches over to the coffee table and takes a quick drink from his whiskey glass.

“When I left, I got in my car and put your picture up on the dashboard where I could see it.  It was a school picture, I think.  You were wearing a green dress, and your hair was curled.  You looked bored against the blue background that didn’t go well with your hair.”

“I remember that picture,” I say.  “It was from the eighth grade.”

“You were just a kid,” Deklan says softly, “and I was still pissed about your father’s attitude.  Every time I looked at the picture, I wondered what was happening to you right then.  I wondered what you were thinking and how scared you must be.  You were the same age my sister was when she was killed.  When I got home, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.  I checked the address and saw it was a slip at the main dock at the lake.  You were only about a half an hour away.  Then I started thinking about how long a half hour must feel like to the girl in the picture.”

“It didn’t sit right with me, not at all.  I couldn’t stand the thought of some kid being in that position for something her father did.  For the first time since he took me in, I went against what Fergus Foley told me to do.  I didn’t wait sixteen hours to go pick you up.  I grabbed my gun and my car keys and headed to the lake.

“It was late, dark, and raining.  There wasn’t anyone around when I got to the lake—only one car with out-of-state plates.  I parked next to the dock and made my way to the slip that matched the one on the paper Fergus gave me.  There was a small cargo boat there, but no one was on deck.  When I went on board, I could hear two men talking.”

“What were they saying?” I ask when Deklan pauses.

“Nothing pleasant,” he replies.  “I could tell by the conversation that I had the right place.”

“So you shot them?”

Deklan nods and takes another drink.

“I headed down the stairs to the cabin.  I killed the first one before either of them saw me enter.  The other one panicked and went for a gun, but it was close quarters.  I grabbed it away from him, put my gun to his head, and asked him where you were.  He told me you were in the cargo hold.  I…incapacitated him before I went to find you.”

“Incapacitated?”  I turn my head so I can see Deklan’s face, but he keeps staring at his whiskey.  “What did you do?”

“I blew off his kneecaps,” Deklan finally says after a deep breath.  He glances at me briefly before looking away again.

His jaw is set, and I’m not sure if he just doesn’t want me to know the details or if he’s embarrassed by them.  Inside my head, I hear two blasts and screaming, but the memory fades quickly.  It occurs to me that this is the first time he’s actually admitted to me that he’s killed someone, and I shudder.

“I needed to make sure you were really there,” Deklan says, continuing with the story.  “If he lied, and they had moved you, I wouldn’t have anyone to ask.”

“You let him live?”

“Not after I saw you.  You were in the hold, right where he said you would be.  You were blindfolded, hogtied, and crying.  As soon as I found you, I finished him off and went back down to the hold.  You were shaking all over when I came up to you, and you tried to scream.  You were…well, you were a mess.  I just wanted to get you out of there, so I picked you up and carried you off the boat.”

My jaw is cramped.  I hear footsteps on the stairs and struggle against the ropes.  The footsteps retreat, and I hear another loud blast.  Then another.  The footsteps return, and I feel a hand on the side of my face.  Fingers reach into my mouth, removing the gag before I feel myself being lifted from the floor…

“Once I had you on the dock, I took off the blindfold and untied you.  You tried to fight me, and I kept telling you it was going to be all right—that I was there to help you.  I don’t know if you finally believed me or just gave up, but you stopped struggling.  I tried to lead you back to my car, but you couldn’t even walk, so I carried you to the car and got you out of there.”

“Was Fergus mad that you went early?”

“He never found out.”

“You didn’t take me to him?”

“Not right away.”

“Where did we go?”

“Back here.”  Deklan stills as he says the words.  “You were going back and forth from comatose to hysterical.  It was almost daybreak by then, and I couldn’t risk someone seeing you like that, so I brought you here.”

I glance around the apartment, trying to remember, but it doesn’t trigger anything.  I’ve been here long enough to have seen every inch of the place.  If I was going to remember something, I would have already.

“Wait a minute,” I say.  “What does all this have to do with you rubbing my wrist?”

Deklan runs his fingers down my arm, stopping at my wrist.  He slowly begins to massage the skin there, and I reflexively melt into him.

“When I brought you here, you were exhausted.  You’d stopped screaming, but you were still crying.  I laid you down in the bed, but you latched onto my arm and wouldn’t let go, so I lay down with you.  There were red marks from the ropes around your wrists.  They…well, they looked painful.  I started rubbing the marks, hoping it would make your wrists feel better.  That’s when you finally started to calm down.”

“Did we stay there the whole time?  Sixteen hours?”

“By the time I got us back here, it was more like fourteen, but yes.  Once you calmed down, you slept for a long time.  When you woke up, you started to panic.  I don’t think you knew where you were.  I rubbed your wrist again, and you relaxed.  I got you to drink water and eat something, but then you went right back to sleep.  I waited until dusk before I moved you.  I didn’t want anyone to see me.”

“Did you take me to the Foley’s?”

“No, I took you to the hospital.  I put a note in your pocket with your father’s phone number on it and left you in the emergency room.  You slept the whole way over there, and you were still pretty groggy when I left.  I waited in the parking lot where I could see you through the window.  Once one of the nurses came over to you, I left.  Your father came back the next day to thank us for delivering you safely.  He said your mother finally stopped her bitching.”

Deklan shifts his legs and grabs my waist, moving me to sit beside him as he turns and glares at his glass.  I try to process everything he’s revealed to me.  From the few flashes of memory I do have, his story fits.

“So you knew who I was the day before the wedding.  You knew I was the one you rescued when I came there, thinking I was going to marry Sean.”

“Yes, I knew who you were.  I’d seen you a few times over the years, but you never really looked at me.  While you were here, I told you a few times that I was going to take you home but that you couldn’t tell anyone about me.  I told you to forget all about it.”

“I guess I listened to you.” I let out a short, humorless laugh.

“I hadn’t thought about it that way,” Deklan says.  “I guess you did.”

I watch as Deklan drains his second glass of whiskey.

“I’ve never seen you have a second drink,” I say.

“I rarely drink at all.”  He glances in my direction.  “I wasn’t sure how you were going to react to all of this, especially after…after last night.”  Deklan furrows his brow and looks down at the empty glass in his hands for a long moment.  “I was afraid you would blame me for what happened.”

“To Kathy or when I was a kid?”

“Either.  Both.”

“Why would I blame you if you’re the one who rescued me?”

“You might think I was responsible for having you kidnapped.”

“Were you?  Was Foley?”

“God, no.”  Deklan turns to face me.  “I didn’t even know your name before your father came to ask for Fergus’s help.  Kidnapping kids…that isn’t something I would ever do.  It’s a fucked up organization I’m in, but Fergus never would have sanctioned something like that.”

“Would Sean?” I ask quietly, and Deklan snorts.

“Then?  No.”  He shakes his head and places the glass back on the coffee table.  “Now…well, I wouldn’t put anything past him now.”

Deklan closes his eyes.  His face looks relaxed, but his shoulders are tense as if he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.  I realize that is exactly what he is doing and reach out to touch his arm.

“I don’t blame you for Kathy,” I say softly.

He turns his head toward me, and the light hits his eyes in such a way that it looks like he is ready to cry, but I’m sure I see it wrong.

“I shouldn’t have argued with you,” he says.

“I was drunk,” I say.  “If anyone started anything, it was me.”

He closes his eyes and opens his arms, and I crawl into his lap.   Wrapped up in his strength, I let the tears flow again.

“I’m so sorry, Kera.  I’m sorry all this happened.”

I cry into his shirt with my fingers digging into his shoulders, and he just holds me there.  Memories of Kathy flash through my mind—everything from the playground in grade school to our room service breakfast in bed.

Eventually, my cries turn to sniffles, but I don’t let go.  Deklan just keeps holding me and occasionally kissing my head.  I’ve probably ruined his shirt, but he doesn’t seem to care.  He strokes my hair and rubs my wrists until I pull back and look up at him, studying his face.

“I can’t believe I didn’t realize it was you,” I say.

“You’ve blocked it out,” Deklan replies with a shrug.  “It makes sense you wouldn’t remember my part in it.”

“But I don’t even remember being here for more than half a day.”

“You slept most of that time.”

“Still…”  I place my head back on his shoulder, but I can’t form any words to go with my thoughts.

“I was going to tell you,” Deklan says, “several times, actually.  It just never seemed to be the right time.  I was shocked when I realized you didn’t remember, and after that…well, it’s not exactly a topic that just comes up in normal conversation.”

“I’m glad it was you.”  I wrap my arms around my husband’s neck and press my cheek to his.

“Glad it was me who rescued you or glad it was me you married?”

“Both.”

Deklan grins and presses his mouth to mine.  He kisses me slowly and gently before wiping the tears from my cheeks.

“So am I,” he says.  He wipes more tears away and stares at me intently.  “Do you remember any of it?  I mean, now that I told you my side of things?  Did that make you remember?”

“Not really,” I say.  “There are a few flashes.  I remember the gun shots and you picking me up.  I remember that it was raining.  Everything that happened before that is blank.”

“Maybe that’s best,” Deklan says quietly.  “Maybe you don’t need to know any more.”

I’m about to agree with him, but something is still bothering me.

“So, you have no idea who was responsible for me being kidnapped in the first place?”

“None.”

“But…but what if you didn’t get them all?”

“What do you mean?” Deklan asks.

“What if it wasn’t just those two guys?  What if there was someone else involved?”

“Whoever it was has had plenty of time to come after you again if they wanted to,” Deklan says.  His rationale makes sense but doesn’t help the sinking feeling in my stomach.

“But they haven’t, Dek.”  I shift in his lap to face him better.  “Since I got out of the hospital, I’ve almost never been alone.  I was homeschooled until I married you.  Even now, there’s always someone with me.  I’m surprised he didn’t tell you we were at the same bar.”

Deklan tilts his head and looks at me with slightly narrowed eyes and creases in his brow.

“Who is ‘he’?”

“That guy.”  I give Deklan a half smile. “The creepy dude you have following me that keeps tabs on whatever I do.”

Deklan is silent as I grin at him.  I’ve caught him off guard with my declaration, and catching him off guard is a rare thing.

“Kera…”  Deklan takes several deep breaths, but his entire body remains tense.  He speaks his words very slowly.  “What ‘creepy guy’ is following you?”

Apparently, my husband is going to try to deny all knowledge of this, but I don’t want to let him off the hook.

“You know who he is.  The guy with the newspaper.  Who reads actual newspapers anymore?”

When I laugh, Deklan’s face remains tense.

“Kera,” he says, still speaking very slowly, “I have no idea who you are talking about.”