Tequila Mockingbird (31 page)

The others were no less worried and certainly as fierce. He’d barely recognized Riley, who’d come to pick him up. Even though he’d gotten a phone call from Connor saying everything was okay, but they were at the hospital, Forest feared the worst when Con’s younger brother showed up at the door looking like an avenging angel ready to reap his soul. As a collective, they were a force, a roaming tsunami of bristling nerves and snapping tempers.

“Who’s here for Connor Morgan?” As one, the clan snapped around to face the man standing by the swinging doors. “He can have a visitor now. He’ll be able to go home once we get the final tests back in, but everything looks good.”

Kiki took a step, but Donal caught her gently. Nodding to Forest, he said, “It’s the boy’s time, darling. Go on, Forest. He’ll be looking for ye.”

Brigid squeezed Forest one last time and shooed him toward the door. “Tell him not to give the doctors a hard time, or I’ll be back there to remind him of his manners.”

“What about Miki St. John?” Kane growled.

“That’s who I was going to ask about next.” The nurse stood firm against Kane’s looming form. “You can come back now too.”

The walk down the hall wasn’t memorable. He left the wave of Irish behind and caught a whiff of it in someone’s voice in a room down the way. At some point along the noisy clatter of the emergency room, he’d lost Kane when the male nurse guided Kane toward one of the side rooms. Forest got a glimpse of a grit-smeared Miki, and then the man was lost from sight, swallowed up by Kane’s embrace.

Shuffling behind the nurse, Forest was led to the next open door and left there, his heart lying dead under his ribs and his love choking him when he finally saw Connor.

There was no question the man’d been through a war. He looked like shit. His eyes were ringed a painful red, turning his blue eyes to a vivid iciness. Shirtless, he was an impressive sight, even with one arm wrapped in a cast and lines of paper tape striping one shoulder, reaching down his back. Con turned, breaking off his conversation with a female nurse to smile at Forest.

Forest’s heart began to beat, and he could breathe again.

“God, you fucking scared the shit out of me.” Forest exhaled, and Con grabbed him by the wrist to drag him forward.

Their embrace was tight and bruising, and Connor’s mouth found his in a rough, hard kiss. The heat of the man’s body seared away the chill the waiting room left on Forest’s skin, and he sighed, opening himself up to Connor’s assault. He clung, suddenly more frightened than he’d been outside with the group of Celtic raiders masking themselves as civilized people. Then the rage settled in.

Shoving off Connor’s chest, Forest punched the man in the arm. Surprised, Connor yelped, and a piece of tape flapped loose, waving over Con’s shoulder.

“Fucking asshole. Actually, all of you. Fucking
assholes
. You scared the
hell
out of me
!” He refused to cry. Refused to sob. Hell, he wasn’t even going to tear up because the female nurse Con’d been talking to was now trapped against the wall, cornered by Forest and Connor crowding the examination table. Moving out of the way, he let her out, then rounded on Connor before the man could fold him into another hug. “Dude, no hands. You get your hands on me—”

“I’m sorry, love,” Connor whispered. “But hey, I saved your band.”

I
T
WAS
a small gathering of Morgans and lovers. Forest was glad for the comfort of Connor’s fingers wrapped around his. Miki paced angrily back and forth, fury pushing his steps, his hands shoved down deep into his jeans. Kane watched him, his arms crossed over his chest while he leaned against the wall. Connor and Kane had convinced Sionn to stay with Damie since the hospital was settling the guitarist into a room, and they’d found a common space to talk about what they were going to do.

Duarte and Kiki joined them after a few minutes, with Donal close behind. Kane held his hand out to Miki as they approached, and the singer hesitated for a moment, his body vibrating with repressed emotion, but he stepped into Kane’s space, placing his shoulders against his lover’s chest.

“Okay, I’m going to break this down for all of you now so we’re all clear on what’s going on.” Duarte nodded at Connor. “Your dad’s here as a debrief. Got it?”

“Yeah, shoot.” Kane spoke up, wrapping his arms around Miki’s waist. “Mick said he IDed the guy who broke into the Sound.”

“Miki IDed Gary Rollins as the man who cracked him over the head, shot Damien, and then closed them inside of the studio,” Kiki agreed. “The lab’s running prints to verify. We found a heavy flashlight on the floor in the reception area. Its lens was broken, and there was blood on it. We think that’s what he used to hit Miki.”

“Who the fuck else could it be?” Miki said it before Forest could. “I didn’t know the guy’s face before Forest tapped him out.”

“It’s just a precaution, son,” Donal assured him. “And if there was someone else with him, it might help us find him.”

Connor pulled Forest in, nestling against his back like Kane’d done for Miki. It felt… comfortable. Safe. Even the weight of Connor’s cast across his chest was reassuring, a reminder that the man’d come out the other side of a shitty situation and was ready to take on the world. There was a brief pressure on the back of his head, and Forest smiled, now knowing the feel of his lover’s kiss in his hair.

Connor smelled a bit of antiseptic, and he’d borrowed a T-shirt from Kane. The combination of unfamiliar laundry soap and Connor’s skin confused Forest’s brain for a bit, but the soft cotton was a damned sight better than the paper gown he’d been given to wear. It hugged every muscle on his torso, and Forest raised his hands to slide his fingers into Connor’s pockets, glad for the warmth of their pressed-in bodies.

“Do we have any leads on where Rollins is?” Connor’s voice rumbled through Forest’s chest when he spoke. “Any known associates?”

“We’re looking into people he knew before he went in.” Duarte quirked his mouth ruefully. “Family too, but so far, no one’s even wanting to admit they know the guy, much less be related to him.”

“Look, we know Rollins is probably the guy. One of the men he’d run with at the halfway house is a demolitions nut. Those smoke bombs were huge, nearly twenty-five pounds each. Too sophisticated for the average DIY, and Rollins wasn’t known for his science skills,” the senior inspector informed them. “We found one that didn’t catch. Rollins, or whoever’s helping him, had them on low-end auto-fuses. Chances are, he broke into the Sound to lay the one we found there and was surprised to find St. John and Mitchell there.”

“Most auto-fuses are good for what? An hour? Two?” Kane asked softly. “Think he stuck around to watch his handiwork?”

“More than likely. We’re asking around to see if anyone saw him or any of the other guys who bolted from the halfway house.” Kiki glanced at her father. “Captain’s given us leave to run up overtime on this. A lot of the uniforms are going door to door with photos.”

“Hell, he might even be in the area,” Duarte commented. “We’re hoping for a hit. They had to have transported the cylinders in something. Probably passing them off as rolled-up rugs. So it’ll be a van or something like that. There’s some camera shots the lab’s going through. That might help.”

“Do we know why he’s doing this?” Miki interjected. “Forest—you knew this guy for what? Five minutes?”

“Little bit more than that. I did some—” He made a face at the singer. “—some really fucking stupid things when I was a kid.”

“I still do stupid things,” Miki shot back. “Any clue why he’s stuck to your ass now?”

“Not a damned one,” he replied. “I haven’t thought about him in years. Rollins was some guy my mom’s friends brought around. That’s how I knew him. Frank knew him from before that, and it’s not like he went to jail for roughing me up. Shit, I didn’t even think he was arrested. Frank was the one the cops hauled in.”

“Yeah, Rollins’d been tagged,” Kiki said. “Then he had a few run-ins with parents about inappropriate behavior. Was logged in as a sex offender and was caught trying to molest a kid on a soccer field. That’s what sent him in, finally.”

“What about that kid’s family?” Con shifted his arms tighter around Forest’s chest. “You guys have an eye on them? If Rollins is after his past victims, he could hit on them too.”

“We’re in touch,” Duarte said. “Family’s left the state. So far, it seems like he’s only lashing out at Ackerman. It might be Rollins didn’t mean to murder Marshall, or maybe he thinks both of them are responsible somehow for his incarceration. I can’t speculate about motive right now. It’s not as important as finding him.”

“So what do we do?” Kane looked at his brother when they spoke at once. Connor shook his head, and Kane continued, “Short of killing this guy.”

“Totally an option.” Connor tightened his arms around Forest’s shoulders.

“I’d rather see him in jail, boys.” Donal spoke softly. “Let the courts have him and walk away.”

“Not that I don’t agree with you, Da,” Connor replied. “But I’m telling you, on this one, it’s hard.”

“I know. It’s hard on us all. This man’s hit at us, but we’re going to hit back.” Donal squared his shoulders. “In the meantime, go home. Take care of yer own and stay safe. And be on yer guard. No telling what this bastard’s got up his sleeve.”

“S
IT
DOWN
,”
Forest ordered Connor for the third time that evening, pushing his lover back down onto the couch after he came back from the kitchen. “The drops go in its eyes or it gets the hose.”

“I would pay money to see you try to beat me with a hose,” Con grumbled back.

It was late, and Connor’d been lounging in the family room, debating if he should call it a night and sleep. A look at his bare-chested lover in loose sweats changed his mind. There were other things he could be doing besides sleeping, most of them centering on Forest.

“I wouldn’t be the one doing the beating,” Forest countered. “I’ll call your mom and ask her to do it.”

“Oh, wickedly unfair there, boyo.” The man laid on his accent thickly, but he eased back, resting his head on the cushions. “Okay, do your worst.”

“Hold on. I forgot a towel.” Forest patted Con’s chest. “Do not get off the couch.”

He waited, still staring up at the ceiling, for Forest to return. When the man finally found a clean hand towel to use, he sat on the couch next to Connor, yelping when Con dragged him over to sit on his legs.

“Least you can do is ride me while you do this.” He stroked at Forest’s sides, spanning his hands around to the small of his lover’s back.

“I’m not riding you for a while, dude,” Forest reminded him. “Doctor said to rest. Your lungs took a beating. I’m surprised they let you go.”

“Just a bit banged up. Miki did more damage to me than anything else.” Con raised his plaster-wrapped forearm. “Bastard’s like a goddamn ferret stuck in your pants. Watch your shit around him. Especially now you’re their drummer.”

“Yeah, I am. Aren’t I? That is so cool. I can’t—even. No words.” Forest beamed, a crinkle of a smile taking over his face. Tsking humbly, he gripped Connor’s chin and moved his face to the side. “Look up.”

“You’re going to get more in my eyes this time, right?” Con glanced at him from under his lashes. “The inside of my ear is still soaking wet.”

“If you weren’t such a dick about getting stuff close to your eyes, you could do it yourself,” Forest reminded him. “Now stay still. Or better yet, talk to me while I do this. What did Sionn just say about Damie when you talked to him?”

“Damie’s doing okay. Resting. They’re sending him home tomorrow. Miki’s growling at people, but I think that just means he’s okay too. Kane’s going to see if he can get Miki to go home in a bit.” The first drop hit, and it felt like Forest shoved an ice shard down into his eye. Biting his lip to avoid yelping, Connor grabbed at his lover’s ass. “Shite, that’s cold.”

“Four on each side.” Forest moved the towel over and cupped Connor’s cheek. “Hold on. Gotta do the other three.”

He could stand the three, Connor told himself. He’d handled worse, but the second drop struck his eye and chilled him down to his spine. His ass clenched in response, and the twitch of his hips nearly unseated Forest.

“Really?” The man looked down at him, fingers firmly holding Connor’s jaw. “You’re being a baby. Damie got shot. You and Miki just have to get eye drops, and he’s probably doing them himself.”

“That’s because he’s a fucking ferret. I’m telling you, boy’s inhuman.” Connor settled down again, lightly resting his hands on Forest’s thighs. “Hope Kane never pisses him off. Bastard’ll gut him as soon as look at him.”

“Nah, Miki’s cool,” Forest said as he quickly let another two drops go into Con’s right eye.

“Shit, warn a man!” Con hissed, blinking furiously.

“Yeah, incoming.”

He saw Forest shrug; then the towel covered Con’s eye.

“Keep it closed. You’re supposed to let the drops sit. You’re one of those guys who’s a big baby when he’s got a cold, aren’t you?”

Connor wasn’t going to humble himself to answer the question. Sniffing, he tasted the drops in the back of his throat and made a face. “God that’s like piss down my mouth.”

“I don’t even want to know who you’ve let pee into your mouth, ’cause it ain’t going to be me.”

Connor kept one eye—the unmolested eye—open and regarded his lover. Forest looked… settled. Maybe even happy. There was a crease of worry between the man’s large brown eyes, but that was for Miki and Damien. He’d reminded Forest several times that the shot to the guitarist’s calf hadn’t been serious, and other than an overnight stay in the hospital and a keen watch for infection, he’d be as good as new. Miki’d been given the same drops and treatment as Connor. A flush of their systems and a few beeping machines verified their health.

And he thanked God for that because he had enough on his hands as it was—seeing as they were currently curved over Forest’s ass.

“You know, once you get these drops in, I might be persuaded into being coddled a bit,” Connor said gruffly. “You know, to soothe my self-esteem. I went into a smoking building for you.”