Page 39 of Conor
I arrange a pile of our bags outside the front door. “On an adventure.”
Archer doesn’t look convinced, and I don’t blame him. I hate everything about this situation, but if there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s that I can’t wait for things to get any worse. The only way to preserve both of our hearts is to get out now, while we still can.
It doesn’t matter if I only have a thousand dollars and the clothes that Conor bought us. We will figure it out. We will get on a bus and go far, far away, and we will stay in a shelter if we have to. As long as we’re safe and we’re together, that’s all that matters.
But even I’m still not convinced when I glance at Archer and see the questions in his eyes. He’s attached to Conor, and he’s not the only one. The idea of leaving this house behind feels like we’re leaving the only real home we’ve ever had. We’ll never see Conor walking through this door again. I’ll never feel his body curled against me in the middle of the night. And Archer will probably never stop blaming me for taking him away from the only man he’s ever loved.
I feel like a horrible mother for allowing it to happen in the first place. I believed Conor. I thought he wanted us. But his actions and his words have proved my worst fears to be true. Now, we’re all out of options and Archer and I have to move on.
“Leave the door cracked,” I choke out. “Wait here while I talk to the driver.”
I walk down to the sidewalk where the cab is waiting, ten minutes earlier than expected. The driver is engrossed in his phone when I open the back door and speak through the plate glass divider.
“You’re here for Misty?” I ask, giving him the fake name I provided when I ordered the cab.
“Yeah, that’s me,” he mumbles.
I ask him if he can open the trunk while I meet Archer at the top of the stairs, grabbing our bags along with his hand. By the time we get back down to the sidewalk, the driver is out of the car.
“Let me give you a hand with that,” he says.
I hesitate when he reaches for the bags. Maybe it’s just my paranoia, but something feels off. He’s wearing a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, and his arm is in a sling. He couldn’t possibly work for the Locos, or at least that’s what I want to believe. But suddenly everything about this situation feels wrong, and it isn’t until I get a whiff of his cologne that I realize why.
Slick was wearing that same cologne. I couldn’t forget it if I tried. And even though I can’t see his eyes, I know in my gut it’s him. It can’t be a coincidence that he’s here now.
I try to stay calm as I let go of Archer’s hand. We’ve rehearsed this a thousand times. I just need to get him back in the house. That’s all that matters right now. “Archer, did you forget Mr. Potato Head?”
His eyes widen when he looks up at me, acknowledging our secret code, and then they slowly move to the guy.
“Go back in the house and grab him,” I instruct. “Better make it quick.”
Archer doesn’t let me down. He follows the protocol we have in place. The same one I’ve made him practice again and again. He darts back up the stairs and shuts the door behind him, and when the lock clicks into place, I spring into action.
I pull a wad of cash from my pocket and try to hand it to Slick. “You know what, we’re going to be a while. I think I’ll call a cab later once I’m sure we’ve got everything.”
He reaches out for the cash but grabs me by the wrist instead. “Do you think I’m stupid?” He yanks me against him, and that’s when I feel the end of a gun against my rib cage. “Get in the fucking car, and do it without making a scene, or I’ll make sure your son comes along for the ride too.”
I swallow every instinct that screams at me to revolt and run. Something in his eyes tells me I won’t make it a block down the street before he shoots me, and then Archer too.
“Please don’t do this,” I whisper.
He cocks the gun, and my breath dies in my chest. “Too late, bitch. Now get in the fucking car.”
“Conor,” Crow barks at me. “Get the feck out of here.”
I look up from the sofa in his office, scrubbing the sleep out of my eyes.
“Ye’re completely worthless to me right now.” He tosses my jacket at me. “What the bleeding hell is going on with you?”
“He’s got lady problems,” Reaper chimes in.
Crow huffs. “Ye told me this wasn’t going to be an issue. And yet here you are, moping around all week like someone stole your lollies.”
I sit up and crack my neck from side to side, trying to release the tension that’s accumulated since I took up napping on Crow’s sofa. “There isn’t an issue.”
He curses under his breath and Ronan butts in again. “He thinks his missus hates him. That’s why he’s all bent out of shape.”
“I never said that.” I glare.
