Wednesdays in August were always busy days at Moonstone Manor, but when it was cloudy out? Attendance doubled. No one wanted to be boating and swimming in Squam or Winnipesaukee when thunderclouds loomed.

By eleven o’clock, Tierney had already led two tours, and her docent intern from Brown University, Anna, had led two more. When Shannon, another intern from UNH arrived, Tierney happily took her lunch break, driving back down the hill from the great house to her cottage.

When she’d left that morning, Burr was still asleep, splayed out on her bed and snoring softly. It was the first deep sleep he’d had since arriving at her home, and when she’d gently touched his forehead, she was relieved to find it cool despite the rising summer heat outside. He’d shucked off most of the covers in his sleep until all that remained was a white sheet, draped carelessly over his hips and legs, which made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t wearing, well, anything.

She’d stood over him, staring at his body, examining it as a scientist might investigate a specimen. His collarbone intrigued her first, the strong lines creating a triangle with his neck, which was thick and corded with muscle. Her eyes trailed up and down the column, resting on the pulse that beckoned her like a beacon. She had a sudden fantasy of leaning forward to press her lips to it and closing her eyes as she felt his heartbeat under the sensitive skin of her lips. Breathing sharply, she’d jerked her eyes away from his throat, landing them on his lips, which were open slightly, perfectly pink in repose. His top lip was thin, but the bottom was almost plump, as though making up for the top. She imagined capturing it between hers, sucking on it, feeling the texture of the tiny ridges with her tongue as she tasted his skin.

Heat had pooled in her belly—like the sun, with rays fanning out to steal the breath from her lungs and make her heart skip beats—and lower, where she sometimes touched herself when she read a sex scene in one of her many books…she throbbed. Almost painfully.

Turning on her heel, she’d raced from her room, down the stairs, and into the muggy August morning.

This is madness. That man upstairs is not for you. Find someone your own speed.

Though she had two brothers roughly the same age as Burr and was comfortable around men, she had precious little firsthand romantic experience with them. Shy and awkward during high school, she’d never been anyone’s idea of a dream date, and Rory had ended up escorting her to the high school prom.

In college, she’d had several male friends, but it hadn’t taken much of her brain power to figure out that she wasn’t the girl they were interested in; she was the girl they befriended as a conduit to the girl they wanted.

That said, she did have one college boyfriend, Malcolm McDonald, a brash Scottish exchange student whom she dated for a few weeks in the first semester of her senior year. She’d liked him very much—liked holding his hand and kissing him—but their relationship had run aground when Tierney shared that she wasn’t ready for a sleepover in his dorm room after three weeks of dating.

Malcolm, who explained that men had “needs,” had asked if there was anything he could do to make her feel more comfortable with him. But there wasn’t. What Tierney had needed was time, and she desperately hoped he’d give it to her, as she’d give it to him, were their roles reversed. She told him that she liked him, but she wasn’t ready to have sex yet and didn’t know when that day would come. In turn, he told her it hurt him to let her go, but it hadn’t stopped him from moving on…right before her eyes, in fact, with one of her friends.

Her experience with Malcolm, however, had taught Tierney something important about love. Someone who truly cared for her would have waited, and that knowledge had softened the blow of his rejection.

When her mother got sick six months later, part of her was grateful not to have to worry about meeting or dating someone. She could find usefulness in being a dutiful daughter and helping her parents. And of course, by taking the job at Moonstone Manor, which was custom-made for a recluse half the year, she’d fashioned a life for herself wherein meeting someone was difficult.

The fact of the matter was that Tierney was, like many Irish before her, a late-bloomer.

Possibly because she was a little scared of the world—intimidated by the beautiful, rich girls of her Summerhaven childhood, with whom she felt she could never compete.

Or possibly, it was because she didn’t brush elbows against the sort of men to whom she was attracted. Men like John Stuart, DVM? Solid, steady, gainfully employed citizens? Sure, she could attract them. But men like Burr? Beautiful, complicated and dangerous? They looked past Tierney, through her, over her and around her. They didn’t see her at all.

Which sort of sucked, frankly, because lately, Tierney had started to feel like maybe—just maybe—she was actually, finally blooming. For the first time in her twenty-seven years, the idea of meeting someone and letting herself have feelings for him felt like a risk she might want to take. And Burr had swept into her life like a summer storm—growling and jagged, wild and dangerous, blinding in its intensity and darkly beautiful. He’d only been in her life for two days, but he was impossible to ignore.

Besides, like every other human female, she sorted most men into buckets upon meeting them: John had been sorted into the “friend” bucket right away, while Burr, despite her attempts to see him primarily as Suzanne’s brother, had been sorted into the “temptation” bucket almost immediately. She couldn’t help it.

Except she wasn’t an idiot, and someone like Burr surely had a girlfriend back in Boston—someone confident and sexy, fashionable and edgy; someone as experienced in the bedroom as Tierney was not. That was the person he’d be returning to. And Tierney? Well, she had her Friday date with John to look forward to.

She forced herself not to roll her eyes as her car rumbled to a stop in front of her cottage.

John was kind to drop everything and come over yesterday, and while she didn’t love the way he’d traded his services for a date with her, what harm had it done? Hell, she’d get a free dinner out of the deal, at worst. And at best? Well, maybe she could try to see something in John that she liked— that she would like in someone who was more than just a friend. She could give him one last chance, couldn’t she? He deserved that. And if he still resided in the “friend” bucket after their date? Well, she could gently turn down any further overtures.

Resolved, she slipped from the driver’s seat, her wellies crunching on the pebbles of the driveway as she headed into the house. And she couldn’t deny it, though she would’ve liked to—her whole body practically quivered in anticipation as she inserted the key in the lock. She’d only been away from Burr for a few hours, but she couldn’t wait to see him again.

No, he wasn’t the man for her. She knew that on an intellectual level. But damn if she could make her body believe it too.

She stepped inside, closing the door behind her, and was surprised to find Burr, fully dressed in jeans, a T-shirt (the same T-shirt that she’d found in his duffel bag), socks, and shoes. His hair—not that there was much of it—was damp, and his face looked freshly scrubbed.

“Hi,” she said, feeling suddenly wary.

It was the first time since Monday night that he’d been out of bed, and she found she didn’t like it. She liked knowing he was upstairs, safe and sound under her eiderdown comforter.

Was he going somewhere? Her eyes flicked to the bag by his sneakers.

Oh, God, he’s leaving.

She didn’t expect the corresponding feeling of being punched in the gut—didn’t expect it and didn’t like it.

He scanned her face thoughtfully, then sighed, forcing a smile. “I’m feeling better. I thought it was probably time for me to get going, Tierney. I think it’s for the best.”

The sudden, thick lump that rose in her throat made it hard to respond. When she finally did, her words were stilted. “Oh. Oh. You, um, but you’re—you’re welcome here. You don’t have to go. Your shoulder—”

“I’ve been fever-free since the doc fixed me up yesterday. Got a good night’s sleep last night. Doesn’t even hurt as bad,” he said, shrugging his injured shoulder gingerly.

“But who will change the dressing for you?”

“I suppose I’ll manage.”

Such sadness.

It had been a long time since she’d felt such sadness.

It swirled inside of her, making her feel breathless and small. How had he come to matter so much to her over the last couple of days? He’d barged into her tidy life, turning it upside down, and yet…and yet, it was some of the most exciting fun she’d ever had. She didn’t want him to go. Not even a little bit. Not even the parts of her that knew it was for the best for them to say good-bye because no two people on earth could be more mismatched, and she knew what would happen were he to stay: she’d end up infatuated with him, and he’d end up having to let her down easy.

But she couldn’t help the way she felt: unaccountably grieved.

“I’m sorry to see you go,” she admitted softly.

He took a step closer to her, his smile all but faded. “Part of me is sorry to go too, aisling. You’ve been awfully good to me.”

“Then stay a little longer,” she whispered, her heart clenching from the endearment. It was probably the last time she’d ever hear him say it.

“I can’t,” he said. “You asked if I was good or bad. I can’t tell you exactly who I am or what I’ve done, because the less you know, the better. But I want you to know this: I was always on the good side, Tierney. I’ve always counted myself among the good guys.”

“I can see that, Burr. I know there’s good in you.”

“I’ve been in a bad place over the last few years,” he continued, “but you reminded me who I am, who I want to be.”

“Did I?”

“Yes. You’re the bravest woman I’ve ever met. Also, the most selfless and kind and…” He grinned at her. “Just the right amount of sassy too.” He took a deep breath and sighed. “But my being here could put you in danger. I won’t let that happen. I can’t.”

She gulped, overwhelmed by his compliments and gratified by the fact that he wanted to protect her, but grieved that he had to leave to ensure it.

“I need my gun back,” he said.

She stared at him hard, then nodded, walking past him to the kitchen and returning with it a second later.

“Thanks,” he said, tucking it into the back of his jeans, his crystal-clear, light-blue gaze meeting hers.

With his buzz cut and handsome face, he looked almost normal—muscular and masculine to beat the band, of course—but not so brutish. Just a beautiful, complicated man standing before her, saying good-bye. It hurt to look into his eyes, so she dropped her gaze to his chest where the word “Destroyer” was inked beneath the white cotton of his T-shirt.

He’s not yours. And if he needs to leave, you have to let him go.

Tierney wasn’t a stranger to disappointment; mustering a brave face was one of her many useless talents. She looked up at him with a grim smile. “Come back if you need to. You’re welcome here, Burr. Anytime.”

“Maybe I will,” he whispered quickly, the warmth in his light-blue eyes surprising her. “Maybe this isn’t the end of you and me, aisling.”

Her breath caught as he took a step toward her. Placing two fingers under her chin, he lifted it so that her face was upturned to his. Then, gently, so gently that tears bit at the backs of her eyes, he dropped his lips to hers, brushing against them tenderly.

She hadn’t been kissed in years, and instead of winding her arms around his neck and leaning into him, she froze almost entirely, even holding her breath. Only her eyes moved, closing against the burn and swell of her tears. She felt his tender touch on the thousands of nerve endings in her sensitive lips, smelled her soap on his skin and tasted tea and honey on the warm breath that whispered over her skin. He filled her senses, making her long for things that weren’t hers, that—realistically speaking—could never be hers.

And then it was over.

Way too soon, it was over.

“Bye, Tierney,” he said softly, dropping his fingers from her chin.

By the time she opened her eyes, his body had already whooshed past hers, out the door, out of her life, leaving her utterly alone and lonesome beyond words.

***

As his sneakers crunched over her gravel driveway, Burr was surprised by how much it ached to leave her. He’d only known her for a couple of days, but a connection had been forged between them, and as he’d once read, connections formed under duress were often the most intense of all.

No kidding.

What he felt for her was surprisingly intense.

She was everything he would have wanted if his life had taken a different path: beautiful without knowing it, witty, smart, brave, and kind, but she could still swear in Irish or put him in his place with a well-timed barb. He didn’t know her very well, but she checked a lot of his boxes. He liked her. A lot.

And his body—which he’d starved of female company over his years undercover, for fear that he’d speak out in his sleep one night if he got too close to someone, betraying secrets that could get him killed—was on fire for her as he threw his duffel bag in the back seat of Suzanne’s car, then slid into the driver’s seat.

She had no idea how tempting she was—just like her sweet, soft lips, he bet that the tips of her lush breasts would be warm, sweet, and soft in his mouth too. He’d explore them for hours, hardening them into stiff points, marking them, owning them, making her come with his mouth before he moved on to her—

“Enough,” he grunted, pulling out of her garage with a massive hard-on. He maneuvered around her SUV, careful not to flick his eyes to the front door of her cottage, lest he catch a glimpse of her and go running back inside. “You can’t have her. Not now. Probably not ever.”

So why had he said that cheesy line about maybe coming back to her?

“Wishful thinking,” he growled, speeding through the gates of Moonstone Manor and forcing himself not to look in the rearview mirror. “Good-bye, Tierney Haven.”

Heading south on Route 171, he stopped at a gas station in Tuftonboro, filling up Suzanne’s tank and buying a prepaid phone card and local map. He spread it out on the back of the car, scanning the tiny roads around Lake Ossipee for Carlson Road. After finding it, he made a quick mental note of how to get there, then headed for the pay phone around the corner of the service station.

Using the prepaid card, he dialed Ray’s number.

“Ray Cooper.”

“Ray,” he said. “It’s me.”

“Burr! Shit! I’ve been worried about you, man. You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, relieved to hear his partner’s voice. “What’s going on down there?”

“Suzanne’s doing okay. Bullet missed her artery. She should make a full recovery.”

He already knew this, thanks to Tierney, but it was good to have it confirmed. “That’s good. How’s Bridey?”

“I saw her at the hospital yesterday. She was clinging pretty hard to Connor, but you know kids. They bounce back eventually.”

Burr gritted his teeth. Once he was out of this fucking mess, he’d do whatever was necessary to be sure Bridey got the therapy she needed to heal completely.

“What else?”

“Declan’s dead. You killed him.”

Burr knew his bullet had hit Declan in the chest, but he wasn’t certain the shot had been fatal. Now that he knew, he couldn’t say he was sorry. By bringing down Declan Shanahan, he’d saved a lot of people from a lot of misery.

“What else?”

Ray sighed. “Sean’s put out a hit on you.”

Burr winced. “I’m not surprised.”

“Big bounty. Fifty thousand to whoever gets video proof of your, you know…demise.”

“Fuck,” said Burr, clenching his eyes shut. “What else?”

Ray lowered his voice. “You still, uh, up at the lake house? The one I told you to go to?”

He was only a few miles away; as good as there. “Yeah. I’m up here. Lake Ossipee.”

“Good. Good. Stay there. You need to stay there.”

“I will. Ray…what’s next? Should I call Sergeant Gunn? Or Captain Donnelley? I’m sure we gave them enough for an indictment. Maybe they could fast-track the charges now so that I could—”

“No! No, no. Don’t do that. Don’t, uh, don’t call Gunn. Don’t call Donnelley. D-Don’t call anyone. Burr, man, think about it: we have no idea who ratted you out to Sean. Could’ve been someone who worked at Southie with Donnelley, or someone on the Gang Task Unit. Just, uh, stay put at the house, and in the meantime I’ll do some digging.”

“Come on, Ray. I’m…I mean, we know the guys on the GTU. It wasn’t one of them. Besides, I want to come in. I want to resolve this. Fuck, man. I want my life back. I can’t hide out in New Hampshire forever.”

“You gotta give me some time.” Ray paused. “A few days. A week. Just give me a week to try to figure out who sold you out, okay? We need to plug the leak before anything else.”

Ray was right.

While it was frustrating for Burr to lay low, it was the smart move, and besides, Burr didn’t trust anyone at the moment except Ray. After Ray figured out who had betrayed Burr’s identity to the Shanahan’s, it would be safer to return.

“Okay,” said Burr, running a hand through the stubble on his head.

“You won’t call anyone,” Ray confirmed.

“I said I wouldn’t,” said Burr. “Thanks, Ray, for everything.”

“Of course,” said Ray. He cleared his throat. “You’d do the same for me, brother.”

Burr hung up the phone feeling frustrated. He wanted to get back to Boston…only to find out who had stabbed him in the back, and then do whatever he could to help Ray, Gunn, Donnelley, and the rest of the district attorney’s office take down the New Killeens.

Patience, he thought, thinking of something his dad once said: Ninety percent of police work is patience. The other ten percent is not getting killed.

Burr wondered if Ray had told his parents anything about where he was and what he’d been doing, or if they still believed that his life as a thug had led to Suzanne’s injury. Turning his car back out onto the road, Burr took some meager relief in the thought that he’d be able to come clean with his family sooner than later. After three Christmases and Easters spent all alone—or worse, doing Sean’s dirty, filthy bidding—he was desperate to reconnect with his family.

He rolled down the window as he drew closer to Ossipee, entertaining himself by wondering what his parents and Suzy would think of Tierney if they ever met her. Not that he’d ever really have a chance with a girl as smart and classy as Tierney Haven, but he was pretty certain they’d like her. They’d be disarmed by the fact that she could speak Irish, and they’d appreciate the fact that she was quiet and smart, not loud and showy. His dad would get drunk and sing “When Irish Eyes Are Smiling” in a pure bad brogue, and Tierney might even crack one of those rare smiles for him.

She’d fit in well, he thought as the hot August sun tanned his forearm.

If she let him, maybe he’d take her to some of the places in Boston that meant something to him: the tall ships by the harbor and Faneuil Hall. They’d hold hands as they walked along the Charles River, and if she said yes, he’d take her to a game at Fenway. And maybe he’d even—

Pop. Pop, pop.

Ripped from his reverie, he pulled over to the side of the road, yanking up the parking brake and scanning the woods on the right side of the car. Leaning down, his cheek against the passenger seat, he pulled his revolver from the glove compartment and made sure the clip was full.

Either he was going crazy, or he’d just heard gun shots.

Hunters?

Possibly, but it didn’t feel right. Burr wasn’t a hunter, but he knew that animals, and therefore hunters, were most active in the early morning.

He leaned his head up to look out the window but didn’t see anything strange. Straightening to look out the windshield, he noticed a mailbox with a gold, reflective number 12 on the side. Ray’s driveway. He was here. He hadn’t realized that he was so close.

Backing up about a quarter mile on the road, he pulled his car onto a side street, making sure that Suzanne’s Massachusetts license plate was hidden by shrubbery. Then he double-timed it up the road and into the woods near Ray’s place. He moved quietly from tree to tree, slowing down as a large, beautiful cedar-shingle lake house came into view through the woods.

Huh. Ray can afford this? he wondered, then reminded himself that the house belonged to Ray’s wife’s family.

Crouching down behind a rotting log, he checked out the car in the driveway: a gunmetal-gray Escalade with Massachusetts plates was parked beside a weathered Ford truck with New Hampshire plates. A shiver went down Burr’s back. Escalades were Sean’s favorite vehicle, and many of his henchmen bought them to curry favor with Sean.

Suddenly the front door opened and a man in a shiny gray suit stepped out onto the front stoop, talking on a cell phone. It was “Fat” Billy Griffin, one of Sean’s top guys.

“No, you’re not hearing me, boss. The narc wasn’t here. We capped the goddamned handyman.” A pause. “He saw our faces, Sean. Didn’t have a choice.” Another pause. “Yeah. Yeah. We know what to do.” Another. “I’m guessing your guy gave you bad intel. Yeah. This was a waste of fucking time. He’s probably still in Boston, hiding out somewhere. Fucking O’Learys.”

Behind Billy, two more men—slightly younger, dressed in jeans and T-shirts—came out of the front door carrying a rolled-up carpet. One was Billy’s son, Patrick, but Burr couldn’t get a good look at the other kid. Probably a new recruit. There was little doubt who was rolled up in the carpet based on Billy’s conversation with Sean.

“Put him in the back, pops?”

Billy nodded at his son, flicking a button on his key fob. The boys rounded the car and stuffed the rug in the trunk.

“I gotta go, Sean. Time to clean up this shit show. Yeah. I’ll be back in town tonight.” He tucked his phone in his back pocket and turned to the kids.

“Go find the guy’s keys,” said Billy to Patrick’s friend. “Drive his truck to the state line, lock it up, and leave it at a rest stop. Hitch a ride back to Boston. Pat and I will handle the rug. You did good today, kid.”

“Thanks, Mr. Griffin,” said the kid, running back into the house to find the keys to the Honda.

As for Burr, he’d seen enough, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to put the pieces together. Someone had told Sean where he’d be, and Sean had sent Fat Billy and his kid up to knock him off.

He stayed on the ground behind the log, waiting until he heard the truck drive away, followed a few minutes later by the Escalade. After thirty or forty minutes had passed, Burr walked back to his car. Once he was sitting down, he tried to make sense of what had just happened, of what he’d just seen.

He added up the numbers quick, but his mind didn’t want to believe the sum.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “No. No. Ray wouldn’t do that to me. No! Fuck!”

But the facts wouldn’t be denied. Only Ray—his partner, his friend—knew where Burr was hiding, which meant that he was probably the one who’d ratted out his identity to Sean. In fact, he was probably the one who’d called him on Sunday night to warn him that they were going after Suzy.

“God damn it!” he cried, beating his fists against the steering wheel as he remembered his sister’s body crumpling to the floor. “No! Come on, Ray! No! You were my family. My—my fucking brother!”

Ray had been Burr’s lifeline over the past three years. Every bit of information that Burr had gathered on the New Killeens had been given to Ray. When had he sold out Burr? And Jesus, had any of the evidence Burr had risked his life to collect even reached Sergeant Gunn? Fuck. If not, the DA’s office wouldn’t have enough to indict Sean, and it would be years before Burr and his family would be safe…if ever.

“You were my partner, Ray. Why?”

My partner. The thought was a dagger slicing through his heart as he thought of everything he and Ray had been through. He gripped the steering wheel until his fingers ached. It can’t be true. It can’t.

But it was. Because no one else knew where Burr was hiding. Only Ray. And Ray knew better than to tell anyone…unless he wanted Burr to be found.

Taking a deep breath, Burr pulled his car back out onto the road and turned north on Route 153, his only goal to place space between himself and the Griffins, who were headed south, back to Boston.

As he drove, he backtracked, trying to think of times when Ray’s behavior hadn’t felt “right,” but he came up dry, which made him wonder if Ray’s betrayal had been a relatively new development. Trying to find clues or tells, he shifted his thoughts to their phone conversation an hour ago, combing through what he remembered of their exchange, and one part stuck out like a sore thumb: Ray’s fervent advice that Burr not reach out to Gunn or Donnelley. He’d even gone so far as to posit that someone in the Southie station could’ve been the rat.

Maybe. But Burr knew better.

The rat was from Dorchester, and Burr had practically known him his whole damned life. The rat was Ray—fucking Ray, who was like a fucking brother to him, and it broke his fucking heart.

A green sign on the road said that it was fourteen more miles to a place called Conway that had food, lodging, and gas stations. He needed to call Donnelley as soon as possible and tell him to warn Gunn about Ray; he stepped on the gas and didn’t let up until he got there.

Pulling into a service station, he parked on the side of the convenience store, near the pay phone, and used his phone card to call Donnelley’s direct line.

“Yeah? Donnelley here.”

“It’s Burr O’Leary.”

“Fuck.” He paused, dropping his voice to a whisper. “You’re alive.”

“Barely.”

“Don’t talk.”

Burr took a deep breath and held it, waiting for more instruction.

“Call me at 617-555-2121 in five minutes.”

“Got it.”

Burr hung up the pay phone and turned his back to it, looking up at the now cloudless blue sky and sighing deeply. It was getting hard to decide what was the worst part of his life right now: his sister getting shot, the price on his head, or his partner betraying him. The only bright spot in his life recently had been Tierney, but God only knew when he might see her again, if ever. None of it was good. All of it sucked.

After five minutes, he called the 617 number he’d been given, and Donnelley answered right away. “O’Leary?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re okay?”

“I’m…I took a bullet through the shoulder at my sister’s place, but it was a clean shot. Got it stitched up by a vet.”

“Where are y—No! Don’t tell me. Just in case.”

“What do you know?”

“I talked to Seth Gunn. Someone ratted you out. Sean and Declan went to Suzy’s place to lean on her, but she didn’t know where you were. Didn’t stop them from shooting her. Heard someone suddenly arrived on the scene and shot Declan Shanahan, then disappeared. I assumed it was you.”

Burr clenched his jaw. “I got a tip that they were at Suzy’s.”

“Someone in the New Killeens?”

“I don’t think so. I think it was Ray. I’m ninety-nine percent sure the rat’s Ray.”

“Cooper?”

“He told me to hide out at his wife’s lake house up in New Hampshire. I got delayed on the way. When I finally got there today, Fat Billy and his kid were dragging a body out of the house. The handyman. I heard Billy talking to Sean on his phone—they thought the poor bastard was me.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” said Burr. “Close call.”

“You think it’s Cooper told ’em where you were?”

“No one else knew.”

“I hate to say it, but it makes sense,” said Donnelley, his voice thoughtful, like he was putting puzzle pieces together. “Last few reports I got in July and August were sloppy. Not in your handwriting either. I just thought Ray recopied them for some reason.” He paused. “And worse, some evidence went missing yesterday.”

“Fuck!”

Donnelley sighed. “Yeah. The slug they pulled out of Suzanne. We wanted to match it to Declan’s gun and prove he’d shot her. But someone stole it from the hospital.”

I saw her at the hospital yesterday. She was clinging pretty hard to Connor, but you know kids.

Fuck.

“It was Ray. He was there visiting Suzy.”

“Shit.”

“Captain, I need to know…what now?”

“Ah, son, we’re a little fucked here. If Ray was tampering with your reports and evidence, it’ll be hard for the GTU to make a case to the DA based on them.”

Burr scrubbed a hand through his bristly hair. “But what about everything before July? What about my testimony? I can come back to Boston. I’ll do whatever you need to put those bastards away.”

“I’ll talk to Gunn and see what they’ve got,” said Donnelley, “and yeah, your testimony will be crucial, but keeping you safe will be…well, Burr, you should know…”

“I already heard about the bounty,” he said, looking beyond the little town of Conway to the jagged range of mountains that rose in the near distance. “I can stay put up here for a while.”

“That’s good. You can’t show your face in Boston. Not until Sean and some of his guys are behind bars.”

Burr took a deep breath. “You could…”

“You have an idea?”

“You could lean on Ray. Force him to admit that he’s the rat. Wire him.”

“Wire Ray? For what?”

“A confession that they killed the wrong guy at his lake house. You could get him for collusion in murdering the handyman, and maybe he could get Sean to admit that there’s a hit out on me. Attempted murder of a police officer. That’s life.”

“Hmm. Yeah. And I’m pretty sure we can also get racketeering, loan-sharking, and bookmaking added on with your testimony. That’d put him away for a long time.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Burr.

“You’re sure about this?” asked Donnelley. “About Ray?”

It gave him zero satisfaction to answer, “Yeah. I’m positive.”

Donnelley sighed long and hard. “You heard that Suzy’s gonna be okay?”

“Yeah. Thank Christ.”

Donnelley paused for a moment. “Hey, wait…how’d you hear? From Ray?”

“Well, yeah. But also, a friend of mine called in to check on her, actually. Before Ray.”

“Wait. A friend of yours called Mass General?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Aw, shit. No, Burr. That’s no good. They’re looking for you. Costs them almost nothing to pay off a hospital receptionist to make notes when any calls come in about Suzy. When Ray finds out you’re not dead, they’ll be chasing down any and all leads to find you. Who made that call?”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Tierney.

“Fuck,” he said, “I gotta go.”

“Wait! Burr!”

“Yeah?”

“Destroy the phone. Then they can’t triangulate it. All they’ll have is a New Hampshire phone number. Can’t get too far with that.”

“Unless they figure out who the phone belongs to!” cried Burr.

“They’d need cell phone records for that.”

“The kind a dirty cop could get out of the system in no time,” said Burr with a bite.

“Ray,” said Donnelley. “You think they’ll ask him who made the call?”

“If they haven’t already. Fat Billy was on the phone with Sean over an hour ago. He knows I’m not dead. I imagine he and Ray are talking right now,” said Burr, running a hand through his hair. “And if Sean’s pissed at Ray, he’ll do whatever he has to do to get a new lead on where I could be.”

How far am I from Tierney? Fuck…how far away am I from her?

“I’m calling Gunn as soon as we hang up. We’ll pick up Ray today,” said Donnelley. “Now. Before he can trace that number for them. I’ll do it myself if I have to, but I’ll make sure he doesn’t trace that number.”

And I’ll go straight back to Tierney’s.

“Captain, I’ve got to go. I have to make sure—”

“Yeah. You go to your friend and warn him not to use his phone. I’ll take care of Cooper. It’ll be my fucking privilege to haul his ass into an interrogation room.”

She. She’s a fucking “she,” and she’s brave but tiny.

“Burr! Call me in two days on this line. Friday. At seven o’clock in the evening. I’ll let you know where we stand with everything.”

Burr nodded. “Thank you, sir. I will.”

He hung up the phone and ran to Suzanne’s car, praying to Jesus and God and the Virgin Mary and all the saints in heaven that the call Tierney made on his behalf hadn’t been traced…and while he was at it, he promised to trade his worthless fucking life for hers if only God would keep her safe until he got there.