Page 142 of Bound Lies

“Back to bed for you.” I set her down and kiss the top of her head.

She lets out a sigh of contentment before curling up on her side, still wrapped in the towel on top of the comforter.

By the time I’m dressed, Riley is fast asleep once again.

I need to head downstairs to make a coffee for the road, so I grab my phone off the dresser. It’s already buzzing with an incoming call from Doyle, but I ignore his relentless calls until I’m stepping off the elevator into the garage.

“What is it, Doyle?” I demand as I head to my car. “If you’re calling to bitch about my little brother, save it. I’m not interested.”

“I’m not calling about Brennan.”

“Then what do you want? I’m busy, and you’ve got a job to do.”

“It’s Finn.”

I halt in my tracks as my blood runs cold. “He better not be fucking dead.”

“He’s not dead.”

“Then what is it?”

“He wants to talk. Says it's urgent.”

My pulse quickens.

Finn is a wildcard, and my gut is telling me that this isn’t a good thing.

But I can’t ignore him.

Though if it turns out he’s only trying to pull my strings, he’s going to find himself staring down the barrel of my gun.

“I’m on my way.”

Doyle meets me outside Finn’s cell wearing a grave expression. He looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks from the purple shadows under his eyes.

We’ve been working our men to the bone recently, trying to stay on top of the O’Keefe threat, and even though Sean has agreed to back off, that doesn’t mean we’re going to ease off the gas.

“He better not be bullshitting me,” I grunt as I approach Doyle.

“Guess you’re about to find out.” Doyle unlocks the cell.

The single fluorescent light overhead casts long shadows over Finn’s gaunt face.

He doesn’t look up right away, but once the door clicks shut behind me, he slowly lifts his head, and I catch the calculated gleam in his eyes.

“Don’t waste my time, Finn. What do you want?”

He smirks as he continues to stare at me. Even after all this time, his spirit is yet to break.

“I’m ready to talk,” he chokes out before violently coughing. A few splatters of blood hit the concrete, and I wrinkle my nose.

“What changed your mind?”

“Does it matter?”

“I’m curious about your motive, that’s all. Was it finally seeing your long-lost father figure, or have you finally realized you’re on the brink of death?”

Finn huffs a laugh, which sets off another violent coughing fit.