Heart in Wire: A by a Thread Companion Novel (36 page)

“What do I have to do with this?” Patrick asked, his guard sufficiently in place.

“FBI may contact you about what you know. I need to go over everything with you before that happens,” Kevin pulled out a pad and wrote Patrick’s name on the top. “So, after that last call from Jamie six months after he went under, did you hear from him again?”

Patrick had been waiting on this since he pulled the trigger.

Billy and Patrick sat at the bar while Owen poured them Black and Tans. It’d been about a year since he’d been in Finnegan’s and he thought Billy taking him here was to make some sort of point. He was glad George wasn’t around. Owen set down the pints in front of them and looked at them curiously. “You mates of Stella’s right?”

“Something like that,” Billy answered for them. His hair was a little longer than usual and he was wearing his Clark Kent glasses.

Patrick took a gulp of his beer, swallowing a snide comment that threatened to come out. “What’s up with the hipster glasses?” he asked instead, even though he’d already seen them. He’d meant to ask him about them in December, but he’d been so wrapped up in getting over El he didn’t do anything he meant to do.

“Cover more of my face,” he said, shrugging.

“You just get back in town?”

He nodded. “Turkey,” he commented lowly.

“Solo?”

“Nope, they have me working with a partner to train her.”

“Her?”

“Yep.” He took another pull of his beer.

Patrick turned in the barstool and examined Billy.

“What?” Billy asked, not looking at Patrick.

“You’re acting weird.”

“You see El yet?”

“Fuck you.”

“How’s the slapper in Atlanta doing?”

Patrick set his glass back on the bar and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Billy was goading him for some reason. “Stop fucking around…what’s going on with you?”

“Work’s hell and Kayce is basically the same.” Billy’s shoulders slumped and he took his glasses off and put them down next to his beer. “I have no peace. There’s no peace.”

“Oh, like you had any peace for the last couple of years,” Patrick chided and drank his beer. “By the way, if you bothered to ask me how my day went, I would tell you about the fucked up shit that happened.”

Billy raised his eyebrows. “How was your day, dear?”

Patrick leaned in and lowered his voice. “Jamie had a package delivered to the FBI after he died. It was a ton of evidence against Burns. They called me up here to do some bullshit work, but really go over anything I knew.”

“You didn’t know anything,” Billy stated.

“They made sure of that, I guess.”

“You make any mistakes?”

“Who’re you talking to?” Patrick laughed and took another gulp of beer.

“Well, that
is
very interesting, Patrick. Now, let’s get back to me.”

“Of course,” he joked and then realized there was something about Billy that wasn’t snapping into place. “Seriously, it’s not like the past few years were cake.”

“Yeah, but we shot the shit and I could drink and could forget about the hell of not being who I am on a daily basis.” Billy drained his beer. “Now when I get home I have to keep pretending.”

Patrick tried not to spit out his drink. “Did she move in?”

“Fuck, she may as well have. She’s got her shit everywhere and is always coming over.”

There wasn’t anything Patrick could say to this; this was Billy’s reality. “You can always come to Atlanta for a little break.” It was all he could offer.

“Thanks, man.” Billy raised his hand, motioning another round for them both.

“Dude, I’m sorry there isn’t anyone here you can be yourself around.”

“Shit, man. Maybe that is who I am and I’ve just forgotten,” Billy lamented. “Maybe I have no fucking clue who I am anymore.”

“You know, it’s okay to lose yourself for a bit. It happens to everyone.” He nodded at Owen as the next round beers were set on the bar in front of them. “I guess sometimes we just get caught up in what we’re doing and forget who we are. I’m here, though. I can remind you who you are. You’re a smartass who is loyal and can keep a secret. You’re obsessed with playing video games so you can forget that what you do for a living can sometimes get people killed. You’re mostly a no-serious-relationships person because you can’t imagine having to explain what you do to someone else. You don’t trust anyone and that’s lonely. I’m sorry my leaving has impacted you.”

A grin spread across Billy’s face. “You want to move back in? You miss me that much?”

“No, asshole.”

“So the girl in Atlanta, she’s helping you out?”

“Yeah, she kind of is,” Patrick answered.

“Good. You were kind of a mess. I’m glad I was around to help fix you.”

“You can’t fix shit.”

“I fix shit all the time,” Billy countered. “That’s what I do.”

Patrick woke up the next morning worse for wear. He and Billy drank too much and talked shit to each other for hours. He did remember he’d called Richard, his tattoo artist in DC, and made a special appointment to get a new tattoo in a few hours. Patrick had been thinking about getting it for a while, but didn’t trust anyone in Atlanta yet. This would be his seventh tattoo. His body was covered with tattoos that meant something to him; he got his first one in Savannah as soon as he could talk the artist at California Tattoo into doing it, he was only 15. It was his brother’s name on his right bicep. Although he couldn’t bear to stay in Savannah with Trevor and see his reality every day, Patrick carried his brother with him always. He had nails tattooed on his chest. This was his attempt to show that he felt ripped in two at what happened to his brother and then his father leaving; the nails were the only thing that kept him together. Patrick needed those nails to survive.

He had a tiger on his back that pretty much covered his left shoulder blade. He got it after he spent six weeks in training for the ATF; it changed him and he felt that the tiger symbolized his newfound power and the invincibility he needed to make it through life. To the right of the tiger were the words, “No Mercy, No Fear,” which was how he approached every situation. On his forearm he had the words, “Lesson Learned,” this one he got after he fucked up his first case with the ATF. He’d been arrogant and didn’t follow protocol, so the perp got off on a technicality because of Patrick’s fuck up.

Patrick subconsciously rubbed the thick black tribal tattoo that wrapped around his left bicep and shoulder. He and Jamie had gotten tribal tattoos the summer Jamie had lived with him and Billy. It was something they did together and the memory of it seared through Patrick’s brain. He shook it away. He was getting good at not letting memories of Jamie invade his brain.

Walking over to make a pot of coffee, he saw his phone on the counter. He had three texts from Marly. The first one was a jaw-dropping picture of her, naked. When he didn’t respond, she’d texted.

Well I’m assuming you’re speechless, but you know what they say about assuming

Patrick couldn’t believe he’d missed this text. Her next text told him that she was mortified she’d sent that to him, she was out drinking with the girls and obviously wanted to talk to him. He messaged her back furiously.

I’m an ass for missing the best text I’ve ever received. Billy and I were drunk and I lost my fucking phone.

Damn

Are you still naked?

He hoped that didn’t foreclose the opportunity for more naked photos from her. Patrick was still texting when Billy came out of his room.

“Why are you making so much noise?” His hair was disheveled and he lacked his glasses. He was wearing a Steelers t-shirt and pj pants. “And why aren’t you wearing a fucking shirt?”

Patrick laughed. “I forgot to pack one.”

“So, are we getting tattoos?”

“Oh, yeah ‘we’re’ getting tattoos,” Patrick said sarcastically.

“Well, I need one more to finish my sleeve,” Billy kept up with the joke. He ran his hand over his right bicep, which lacked tattoos of any sort. His job wouldn’t allow him ink.

“What do you think would happen if you popped into the Langley with a huge sleeve done?” Patrick asked.

Billy laughed. “Well, best case scenario, I’d be on the desk, you know?”

Patrick and Billy held each other’s secrets; they both had top secret clearance, but with different government agencies. Patrick worked for the ATF and Billy told everyone he worked for the Department of Justice, but he didn’t. Only his family and Patrick knew where he really worked and he planned on keeping it that way. The amount of secrets they held between them could fill a room, but they trusted each other implicitly; it had taken years to build that trust.

“What are you getting?”

“I told you last night,” Patrick answered while he was pouring himself a mug of coffee.

“I don’t remember I was drunk.”

“You can’t hold your liquor.”

“We didn’t drink liquor,” Billy quipped as he filled his own mug of coffee.

“Whatever asshole, you need to get out more.” Patrick sat at the table and looked through his phone.

“Can we go to Old Glory when we get your tattoo?” Billy asked.

“Why would I want DC’s version of barbeque when I can get the real thing at home? I was thinking brunch at Clyde’s. What’s Kayce up to?”

Billy cleared his throat. “We’re having a little misunderstanding at the moment.”

Patrick looked up from his phone. “What’s up?”

“Well, her sister is getting married next weekend and I’m unavailable to go. Try telling someone you can’t go to a wedding that’s important to her because you have to be out of town for the weekend to review documents for the government.”

“Any way you can make it?”

“Out of the country,” Billy responded.

“Can’t be helped,” Patrick sympathized. “Changing the subject, I’ve been having sex with one of the hottest girls ever in Atlanta and she texted me a naked picture last night.”

“You serious?” Billy set his mug down and grabbed Patrick’s phone before Patrick knew what he was doing.

Patrick lunged at him, but Billy looked at his messages and then up at Patrick. Patrick grabbed the phone.

“Dude, that chick is hot as fuck!” Billy exclaimed, pointing at the phone.

“I told you she was hot.”

“I know, but most of the time I call all the women I’m banging hot, at least while I’m still banging them.” Billy walked into the den and sat on the couch. “Not only is she totally fuckable, she’s sending you naked pictures! And you’re up here worried about The Woman Who Shall Not be Named—what the hell?” Billy held his hands up in surrender; based on Patrick’s threats last night about El, he didn’t want to start too much of an argument.

“Dumbassery,” he said, using Millie’s term.

“The dumbest,” Billy said pronouncing the “B.”

Patrick was taking the stairs two at a time trying to get to her door, knowing what was waiting for him. He fumbled with the key she’d recently given him and burst through the door. And found Marly. She was wearing red fuck me heels and nothing else, bent over at the waist to look in the fridge. When she looked up at him, she smiled and a bouncy curl fell into her face, covering one eye.
Holy mother of fuck
. He started stripping before he even closed the door. He kicked off his shoes as he took his shirt off. God, this girl was made for fucking. Her body was ready for him every time.