Eden

“You want some real food?” Sean asked.

“No,” I responded, trying and failing to keep the listlessness out of my voice.

“What about a diet soda? I seem to recall you love that shit,” he said.

I snorted and then smiled at Sean appreciatively. “Yeah, that would be nice,” I said.

“Be back. Don’t go anywhere,” he replied.

I wouldn’t, mostly because my head would crack in two if I tried, and because Sean was the one connection, however tenuous it was, to Michael, so I wouldn’t leave his side until I knew Michael was okay.

Until I had a chance to explain to him what had happened.

I’d told Sean the story, had no doubt he would tell Patrick, get a message to Michael, but that wasn’t good enough.

I wanted to speak the words.

And I wanted to apologize.

If I’d said something sooner, done more, maybe Gerald wouldn’t have snapped. Even if he had, maybe Michael would have been able to prepare. But I’d said nothing, and now Michael was suffering.

Then I thought back to being in my burning home, fearing I might die before I had a chance to tell him how I felt.

But I wasn’t dead—I still had that chance.

“Are you well, dear?”

I froze at the sound of Gerald’s voice, looked at him, shocked that he had the balls to make an appearance. It spoke poorly of me that Gerald still had the ability to shock me. The man had bashed in his own head, set a house that he was inside of on fire.

Nothing was beyond him.

I studied him, looked at the lumpy purplish bruise on his head, the fresh suit he wore, wondered how I had missed the insanity in his eyes.

“You have a question,” he said, looking at me knowingly.

“What the fuck happened to you, Gerald?” I said.

He smiled, shook his head. “Such language. Ah, the company you keep. But to answer your question, not that you deserve one, the Murphys happened to me. As I explained before, they took all that mattered to me. Do you think they’d have shouldered the burden so well had the roles been reversed?” he said.

“You have no idea what a burden is, Gerald,” Sean said, reentering the room.

I looked toward the door, saw that Sean looked angry, something I couldn’t ever really recall him being.

Gerald just smiled, an expression that chilled my blood.

“Are you insinuating I should be concerned for my safety, Mr. Murphy?”

Sean squeezed the can in his hand, curled his free hand into a fist, but he didn’t speak. Gerald had the upper hand here, something he knew, I knew, and Sean knew.

“Quiet,” Gerald said, a smile curling his lips. “Such a change for you and a welcome one. Don’t worry, I think I’m going to sleep just fine. If I get so much as a hangnail, who do you think they will hold responsible? Now that the authorities are questioning Eden’s relationship with your brother, her word won’t help you either.”

“Get the fuck out,” Sean growled.

“Gladly. Now that I’ve seen that Eden is okay, I can get on with things.”

Gerald turned and left then, and Sean stood for a moment, staring after him, his rigid stance telling me exactly what he thought.

Then he turned and began to approach me, holding the soda out toward me.

“I don’t think this is your brand,” he said.

Before I answered, I popped the can open and took that first refreshing sip. Then, after I had caught my breath, calmed my nerves as much as I possibly could, I looked at him.

“No, it’s not,” I whispered. “But thank you.”

He nodded, then sat down. The air in the room felt heavy, and when I looked at Sean, I could see that his expression mirrored my own concern, his eyes looking weighted behind his glasses.

After a moment, he tilted his head, his green eyes twinkling, a little smile playing on his face.

“I told you that guy was an asshole,” he said.

For the first time in hours, I smiled.

* * *

Michael

“Wake up,” a gruff, unfriendly voice called.

I hadn’t been sleeping, but rather than correcting the guard, I simply stood.

The others in the holding cell looked at me curiously, but no one said anything. It had been the same for days, me keeping to myself, the others unwilling to approach me. Which was good, because I was nearing the end of my rope, and a fight was just the thing I needed if getting out of here wasn’t an option.

That wouldn’t have been smart. They were looking for any excuse to keep me, and fortunately, none of the other prisoners had given me a reason to give them one.

“Sign here. Sign here. Here’s your shit,” the female guard sitting at the processing desk said as she shoved a manila envelope into my hands.

I signed, took the envelope and opened it. My belongings smelled charred, instantly reminded me of that fire, of Eden, but I kept my face passive and walked out to the waiting SUV.

I got inside and saw that Declan was driving and Patrick was in the front seat.

“You okay?” Patrick asked, meeting my eyes through the rearview.

“I’m good,” I said. “Now, take me to Eden.”

“You’re welcome,” Declan said gruffly.

“Take me to Eden,” I responded.

“Michael, that’s not an option,” Patrick said. “You have to lie low right now.”

I was close to my breaking point, beginning to fray, but when I looked at him, saw the concern in his eyes, I knew something was wrong. I was instantly on edge, my mind leaping to Eden and her safety.

“She’d better be okay,” I said.

“Eden’s fine,” Declan said. “Sean is with her.”

“So what’s the problem?” I asked, looking from Declan to Patrick and back again.

It was Declan who finally spoke.

“The problem is Gerald Collins is dead. And you’re the number one suspect in his murder.”