Wicked Burn

If Donny’s spaced-out mother had been to the hospital at all, Meg wasn’t aware of it. If she had been here, she’d likely be focusing her attention on Eric Farrell, another of Donny’s brothers, who had also been shot in the fray. Eric was reportedly stable, but his condition was much more serious than Donny’s.

Still, it made Meg feel heart sore that Donny had never asked where his mother was or even seemed to expect that Deloris Farrell would visit him.

Meg guessed that Donny had been riding on the natural pain-killers of shock and adrenaline since the incident at the Farrell farm, which had culminated in one of his brother’s being seriously wounded, another man almost being killed, and Errol being charged with the latter shooting.

As Donny’s principal, Meg felt obligated to report his situation to the Department of Children and Family Services if the police already hadn’t. She doubted Donny would thank her, but Meg had not only a professional but also a moral obligation. It just wasn’t right that a young boy should be forced to live in such an unsavory, blatantly dangerous place as the Farrell farm.

And Meg could tell that Vic was thinking the same thing as he watched the boy fumble with the remote control.

Her heart went out to her brother in that moment. His expression and posture gave next to nothing away as he sat there, but Meg heard his suffering with the invisible sense organ that siblings often acquire in regard to each other.

“Vic, can I talk to you for a second in the hallway?” Meg asked as she stood.

Vic gave Donny a wry glance as he stood up, communicating to Donny with the speed of lightning the message, “Uh-oh, I’m in trouble with the principal.”

Meg didn’t mind, because Donny’s sudden snort of laughter did them all a world of good, worried as they were about the boy. She sighed as she walked out to the corridor with Vic behind her. Her and Vic’s invisible connection had been built over a lifetime. Vic and Donny’s connection, on the other hand, had seemingly sprung up full force the first time they had met.

“Quarter?” Meg asked as she held out her hand to Vic a few seconds later when they wandered up to a coffee machine.

Vic dug in his jeans pocket and pulled out some change.

“We’re going to have to do something about Donny,” Meg stated as she dropped the quarter into the vending machine and made a selection.

“Yeah, I know,” Vic said quietly. “I’ve been thinking the same thing.”

Neither of them spoke as they watched the paper cup fill with steaming liquid. When Meg withdrew the cup from the dispenser, she handed it to her brother. He glanced up in surprise.

“There’ll be time to talk about all that tomorrow. Why don’t you go and find Niall? She looked even more exhausted than you do right now. I don’t think either one of you slept last night.”

The look Vic cast down the hallway told Meg loud and clear that he longed to do exactly that, despite his very real concern for Donny.

“We’ll do shifts with Donny. I’ll tell him that you’ll be here bright and early tomorrow morning. All in all, I think Tim and I got the better deal,” Meg said with a saucy grin. She gave his upper arm an encouraging shove. “Go on, Vic. I don’t know for sure what happened with you and Niall, but I’m just as concerned for her right now as I am for Donny. Do me a favor though, okay?”

“What?” Vic asked as he started down the hallway.

“Just don’t screw it up this time.”

He gave a soft bark of laughter.

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll try my damnedest,” he muttered with an uncharacteristic humbleness that made Meg’s smile widen.

TWENTY-TWO

Vic experienced a moment of panic when he searched the farmhouse and was unable to find Niall.

“Niall!” he bellowed into the obviously empty house one last time. Where the hell was she? He peered out the window over the kitchen sink to assure himself that he hadn’t been seeing things when he pulled up the drive, but no . . . Niall’s sleek sedan was still parked in the drive. His eyes narrowed when he noticed that she’d parked it close to his cottage.

His heart hammered against his breastbone fifteen seconds later when he charged into the cottage.

“Niall?” Vic shouted. Silence was his only response. A sinking feeling came over him as he crossed the kitchen to the hallway. It’d been wishful thinking on his part to think she might be here. Niall wouldn’t come to his place, not after the way he’d treated her here last night, not after the way he’d insulted her time and again, not after—

His condemning thoughts dissipated to ash when he entered his bedroom and saw the small figure huddled beneath the covers on his bed and the golden hair spilled on his pillow.

“Niall?” he muttered, too softly to actually wake her. A touch of wonder flavored his tone. The realization that she was here, that she’d actually come to him after what must have been a hellacious day for her, left him stunned.

He sat on the edge of the bed and brushed her hair back from her face. It reminded him of the time in his apartment in Chicago when he’d awakened her because her parents were in the hallway. Now that he knew the context of the Chandlers’ early morning visit, Vic wished he had let Niall continue to sleep peacefully on that morning.

He hadn’t done it back then, but he would now, Vic vowed to himself. As much as he wanted to talk to her at that moment and ask for her forgiveness, it would have to wait until morning. He brushed his fingertip across the light sprinkling of freckles on her adorable nose.

A profound, powerful feeling surged in his chest.