Sacrifice
Page 78

“Then what are you doing here?” she asked.
“I’ve always told you the truth about that,” he said. He glanced across the grounds, to where Michael was sitting in one ambulance and his brothers were sitting in another. Michael was alone, but his brothers were being checked over.
Michael was watching their interaction, Hannah realized.
She couldn’t look at him.
She looked at Irish instead. “You’ve always told me the truth about bizarre weather events? I don’t think so.”
“About why I’m here. I came looking for a new opportunity.”
“What kind of opportunity?”
He sucked his breath through his teeth. “Again, not a conversation for here and—”
“Yeah, yeah.” She suddenly realized she was so tired of secrets. “Over coffee, then?”
His eyes widened. “You want me to tell you—”
“Everything,” she said. “I want you to tell me everything.”
Michael sat in the back of an ambulance and watched Hannah’s partner approach.
He’d rather be watching Hannah approach, but he’d seen her conversation with Irish, and had seen her very deliberately turn away from his gaze. Now, he’d lost her entirely among the crowd of rescue personnel.
Irish didn’t mince words. He simply climbed into the ambulance and dropped onto the bench in front of Michael. “My secret’s out,” he said.
Michael kept staring at him. He had Tyler’s gun shoved into the back of his jeans, and he’d bet good money that Irish knew it was there. “My brothers tell me you’re a Guide,” Michael said.
“A Fifth,” Irish said. “Not a Guide.”
Too much had happened for Michael to play this any way but aggressively. “Tell me why I shouldn’t shoot you, too.”
Irish took that question at face value. “I’m not like him. I wasn’t here for you.”
“Then who are you here for?”
“Myself.” He paused. “I moved here to get away from all that.”
Michael’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Because my father was a Guide. I saw what he had to do. I wanted no part of that.” He paused. “I think your Hunter was the same?”
Your Hunter. Michael had to put a hand over his chest, the ache was so strong and sudden.
Irish reached out, and Michael jumped. He had the gun pointed before he’d finished a breath.
Irish put his hands up. “Take it easy. I’m sorry. You’re hurting—”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Fine,” Irish said equably. “But I’m not your enemy.”
“We’ll see.” After a second, Michael put the gun away.
“There are more of us than you’d think,” Irish said. “The Guides don’t like us much either, for what it’s worth.”
“Why?” said Michael.
Irish shrugged. “Younger generation. New way of thinking.” He paused. “A lot of us think it’s time for a change.”
“Me, too,” said Michael.
“Maybe we can make that happen together,” said Irish. He held out his hand.
After a moment, Michael shook it.
When Irish tried to pull away, Michael held fast. “What’s going on between you and Hannah?”
“She asked me to tell her everything.”
Michael felt that like a bullet. He winced. He should be telling her.
He should have told her.
But maybe it was better this way. He’d never be safe. Not really.
“Good,” he said. But he still didn’t let go of Irish’s hand. “You didn’t really answer my question.”
Irish raised his eyebrows.
Michael repeated himself. “What’s going on between you and Hannah?”
Irish smiled. “Ask her.”
CHAPTER 31
Michael’s brothers sat in the back of an ambulance, wrapped in blankets. They’d been examined and questioned and told to wait.
So Michael sat on the tailgate and waited. He didn’t want to move. He felt like if he stayed right here, he could keep his brothers safe.
They hadn’t said much since the paramedics had left them alone. Michael couldn’t blame them. He didn’t feel like talking, either.
He kept turning around to look at them, though. He couldn’t quite believe they were safe and unharmed, as if one of these times he’d swivel on the tailgate, and the ambulance would be empty and this whole night would be a cruel joke.
He kept hoping he’d turn around, and Hunter would be sitting there with them.
When he’d done it one too many times, Gabriel said, “We’re still here, Mike.”
“I know.” He studied them, their drawn and filthy faces, the way they sat huddled together. “I thought . . .”
He couldn’t finish that sentence.
Nick nodded as though he knew what Michael was trying to say. He glanced at his brothers. “We thought we were dead, too.”
Michael swallowed, remembering images of the bombing he’d seen first on television, and then firsthand. He’d never be able to forget the sound of Hannah’s voice in his ear, saying that they’d found body parts.
But here were his brothers, safe and sound in front of him.
Someone else’s kids hadn’t been so lucky. Hunter hadn’t been so lucky. Neither had Calla Dean—regardless of whether she’d deserved it.