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Dane looks ready to push past him. “I didn’t fucking kill her.”
“Then stop talking,” Fionn bites out.
“Don’t tell me what to fucking do.”
“Everything points to you right now. My father has given Lorcan an alibi, and the woman you screwed has screwed you over.” Fionn steps into me, standing closer now. “Anything you say before a solicitor arrives gives them something else to use.”
I pull out my phone, scroll through the contacts, and call our solicitor’s office.
“Fuck…” I mutter after it goes to voicemail. “They’re not picking up.”
Dane’s chest rises hard beneath his open coat as the Gardaí walk up the path.
“Give them your name,” Fionn says. “Nothing more.”
I move to Dane’s side until our shoulders touch. “Listen to him. We know ya didn’t do this, so don’t give them anything they can twist.”
Dane glances toward the approaching officers. “Fuck––”
Fionn dips into his line of sight, forcing Dane’s attention back to him without laying a hand on him. “Don’t admit to anything. Don’t argue. And when they put their hands on you, you keep your temper in check.”
“Who the fuck do ya think you are, Harrington?”
“I’m the man who knows exactly how my father built this trap.” Fionn holds his stare. “And the man who’s going to get you out of it.”
Dane’s mouth presses into a hard line.
“If you screw me over,” Dane glares at him. “I’ll get Shay to cut you up and feed ya to the pigs. Ya hear me?”
Fionn nods before turning to meet Crowley Junior and a few officers I’ve never seen before. “How can we help you?”
“We’re here for Dane.” Crowley looks past Fionn and nods at my brother.
Dane steps forward. “That’s me.”
A female officer removes a set of handcuffs from her belt. “Dane Tallon, I’m arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Maírín Tallon.”
The metal shines in the gray light, and every instinct in me screams to throw a punch at the officer. Instead, I plant my boots and stand my ground. Losing control now would only tighten Alasdair's trap.
My hands fist as they lower Dane’s head and push him into the back seat.
He twists before the door closes, searching past the uniforms for Saint. “Promise me you’ll find Rafe.”
An officer slams the door closed, shutting him off from us, and then they climb into their vehicles. One by one, the cars peel away and disappear beyond the trees.
A wave of nausea rolls through me while Keira squeezes my wrist.
Saint stalks to her side, and when her hand slips from mine, Fionn draws me next to his hip and kisses the top of my head.
“Can you really help Dane?” I ask.
He already has his phone in his hand and thumbs the screen, flicking through names. “He’ll have a solicitor present before they finish processing him.”
“And Rafe?”
“I’ve got every man we have out looking.” Saint scrubs his coarse haired jaw, eyes fixed on the horizon. “Rafe went after the Crowe’s butcher. We need to find those bastards.”
“You work on them.” Fionn types out a message on his phone. “I’ll deal with my father.”
