“Aye, that would be something, wouldn’t it?” Xander walked around and leaned in through Kat’s open window. “Come on, lass, give ol’ Xan a hug.”
She did, wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing. “Thank you so much, Xander. For everything.” When she finally released the rough-and-tough Yorkie, his eyes looked suspiciously misty.
“It’s been my pleasure, pet.”
Kat gathered Murphy in her hands, kissed his little nose, and handed him over to Xander. Feeling the urgency tugging on him, Aiden moved his duffel to the backseat and started the Nova. The engine roared to life, strong and steady, promising to carry them as far as they needed to be safe for the night.
Xander had crossed back around to his side. Leaning down, he pinned Aiden with a somber stare. “You know, Aid, maybe you should think about ringing Joey. I know the local law enforcement isn’t an option. Maybe he’d be able to help, or at least tell you of someone else who can.”
“Forget it, Xan,” he said tightly. “I’m not opening that fucking can of worms. I’ll figure this out on my own.”
Xander’s disappointment showed, but he didn’t press the issue. Aiden didn’t like leaving on a sour note with the man who’d been his best friend for the last several years, but he didn’t have time to fix it. He needed to get Kat the hell away from that tracker. And with that single thought riding him, he said good-bye to his friend and drove away.
…
“Who’s Joey?”
They’d been driving on the highway in silence for the last twenty minutes since leaving the truck stop. Kat was exhausted and her arm hurt and she’d reached her limit of playing the Alphabet Game as a means of mental distraction.
“We were best friends from the time we were in diapers. Our moms were friends, and we grew up on the same block.”
Irish may have decided to appease her need for conversation, but the way his left arm tensed as he gripped the wheel a little harder made her think he wasn’t all that thrilled about it. Unfortunately for him, her curiosity was piqued enough to push for any information he would give her about him and his past. There was so much she wanted to know, to understand.
“But you aren’t friends anymore?”
The muscle in his jaw jumped. “No.”
Tiny hairs on the back of her neck prickled in warning. Something was telling her to shut the hell up. Maybe it was her intuition, or maybe he was silently praying she’d stop prying. Either way, she ignored it.
“Why not?”
“It’s hard to maintain a friendship when you kill a guy’s little sister.”
Kat sighed. “Damn, Irish, even I know you’re not supposed to date your best friend’s sister. How badly did you break her heart?”
“I didn’t break it, Kat,” he said, his voice razor sharp. “I stopped it.”
“Yeah, but…you mean that metaphorically. Right?”
“I mean for the last five years, she’s been six feet underground, and I’m the one who put her there.”
“Irish, no.” She shook her head. There must be some mistake. “You could never.”
Kat stared at his profile as it blinked in and out of the streetlamps shining through the windshield. He didn’t respond for what seemed like forever and when he did it was flat, lifeless. “Just because you don’t want something to be true doesn’t mean it isn’t.” He glanced in her direction and softened his tone. “You know that.”
She did know it. How many times over the years had she wished her reality was something better? Hundreds. And yet it remained just as ugly as it had been the day before.
“I don’t understand. How?”
“It doesn’t matter how.”
Kat turned her body, resting her left arm along the seat back. “Of course it matters. Are we talking something like a stabbing? Or something like you gave her a bite of your cashew chicken not knowing she was deathly allergic to nuts?”
Irish dragged a taped hand down his extra-scruffy face. Suddenly he looked exhausted. But not the kind he’d have from a long day or a tough fight. The bone-weary kind a person gets when he’s been carrying a heavy weight on his shoulders for too damn long.
“I don’t want to talk about it. Nothing can bring her back.”
Scooting into the middle of the bench, she used her left hand to lightly massage the base of his neck. “I know, but it’s not her I’m worried about. You’ll be joining her before too long if you continue to live with this guilt you don’t deserve.”
He scoffed. “I deserve every fucking drop of guilt I have.”
“It must have been an accident. You would never hurt a friend intentionally.”
“Not for nothing, sweetheart, but you don’t know that.”
“I see,” she said stiffly as she resumed her position on the passenger side. The man had a knack for firing her blood, only this time it wasn’t with desire. He was pissing her off. “I guess I have to wonder how much of what you’ve said to me is total bullshit, then.”
Irish cut her a sidelong glance. “What are you talking about?”