Page 227 of Lawless Sinners

“Will she recover?”

“They expect her to. She’ll need physiotherapy, and it may take time before she regains full movement in that arm, but there’s no reason to believe the damage will be permanent.”

Fionn closes his eyes for a beat before his posture rebuilds and his shoulders draw back. “Where is she?”

“They moved her to a private room. The anesthetic is still wearing off, so she’ll be groggy.”

He takes my hand in his. “Take us to her.”

The nurse holds out the scrubs. “At least cover up your underwear, Mr. Harrington.”

My scalp prickles. I was raised to hate that name, and one day it will be mine.

I take the scrubs and antibiotics from the nurse. “He’ll put them on.”

Fionn looks at me, his need to resist warring inside him before he accepts the scrubs and puts on the trousers.

“I don’t know if I can tell Saint tonight,” I say as we step into the corridor.

Fionn’s attention drops to the ring hidden beneath my jumper. “Then don’t. We’ve nothing to prove.”

By the time we reach Keira’s room, his steps have slowed.

Two armed Gardaí stand outside her room, and Shay lingers at one end of the corridor with a Harrington man at the other end.

The detective sets down his coffee, gets to his feet, and steps into our path.

“Five minutes, Mr. Harrington,” he says. “Your cousin is still unaccounted for. Every unit in the county has his description.”

“Okay.”

His gaze slants to me. “I’ll need a statement from you, Miss Tallon, and from each of your brothers.”

Fionn doesn’t stop for him. “You’ll get them when our solicitors arrive.”

The detective opens the door for us. “I’ll be waiting.”

Saint is sitting beside the bed, his head lowered to Keira’s hand enclosed between both of his.

His hair is damp and wild, and there’s soot across one side of his face, but his attention doesn’t leave the woman lying beneath the white hospital sheet.

Her injured arm is secured against her body, and a thick dressing disappears beneath the neck of her gown. A clear tube runs into the back of her other hand, and her eyes are closed.

Saint’s thumb moves across Keira’s knuckles.

“Hey,” I say softly. “Want me to get ya a coffee?”

He shakes his head, not looking at me.

Fionn crosses to the opposite side of the bed. His hand hovers above Keira’s hair before settling carefully against her head.

“Keira,” he mutters.

Her eyelids flutter.

“Fionn?”

“Yeah. I’m here.”