“You can’t keep rejecting her calls, man. It’s a dick move,” Declan replied, lifting his phone to his ear. “And no. It’s not Cally. It’s Charlie Tango.”
Cally was a close friend of Luke’s wife, and Dace’s temporary hookup while he had been on a brief hiatus from searching for Ivy. Cally was beautiful, sweet, and spicy in bed, just the way Dace liked them. After a brief friends with benefits type relationship, Dace began to avoid her when he missed an unknown caller the night of his brother’s wedding. A weekend in bed with Cally and several missed calls from the mystery number left Dace full of remorse.
“Man, you don’t know if those missed calls were Ivy,” Wylie added.
“Really? Then who were they?” Dace fired back. “There were four. Four.”
“Wrong number…we’ve been over this,” Luke said.
“You don’t call a wrong number four times – some at odd hours – all from an untraceable number,” Dace defended. “It was her. Who else would have been looking for me that hard? You guys were all at the wedding with me. Everyone who would’ve needed me that bad was at the wedding.”
“Liam said he was still trying to crack whatever was preventing him from tracing it.” Wylie shrugged.
“How the hell do you trace an unknown number?” Rip asked. “I thought it was unknown for a reason.”
“It is,” Dace answered, “unless you’re Liam. That asshole can crack anything.” Liam, his tech genius brother, headed their cyber division. “It’s only regular assholes who can’t get past that unknown thing. Besides, isn’t it odd that she’s missing and there’s someone calling that we can’t nail down? It’s like they’re hiding something.”
“Ivy’s dad was a florist. Not likely she has the kind of resources to hide that well. It could’ve just been one of those prepaid burners…some hungry junky looking for his dealer or something.” Luke shot Dace a steely look. “Still no excuse to flake on Cally, man. She deserves better than a cold shoulder after you two were all fuck me all the way to Tuesday.”
Convinced it was Ivy, and that he’d missed his chance to finally find her, he’d been avoiding Cally. He didn’t blame Cally for the missed calls, but he did believe it was punishment from the universe. Like a strong dose of karma for giving up on Ivy, even if it was a short-term break. His number wasn’t public, and only his brothers and closest associates had it. And Ivy.
“I’m not being a dick. I just can’t talk right now.” Dace pointed at his groin as he lifted the bag of peas and cringed. “I just had my—”
“Yeah, yeah…” Luke broke in. “We get it. But you didn’t pierce your dick yesterday or the day before that.”
“I was on the road,” he defended. “I couldn’t take any calls.”
“You answered my calls,” Wylie corrected.
“That’s different. It was for work.”
Wylie snickered. “If asking if you’ll be back in time for the game is work, then…”
“Look, why haven’t I been able to find her? Sure, she doesn’t have the resources to hide, but we certainly have the means to find anyone, anywhere…and still nothing. Someone with similar resources could have her.” Dace waved his hand to brush off his audience. “Whatever. I’m done talking about this.”
“Bro, that’s exactly why you need to stop punishing yourself. She obviously doesn’t want to be found, and if she found someone to hide her, that’s even more reason to stop all this self-mutilation shit. Move on with your life. Maybe even with Cally even though she’s too good for your ass.”
“Someone needs to get in my chair and get some ink, or you guys need to take this little intervention down the street to the coffee shop to talk feelings.” Rip interjected, patting his chair.
Dace stood, grimacing as he remembered why he was there to begin with. “Seriously. Let’s all get a tat, boys.”
“Hell, no,” Luke said. “I already have one twin, not trying to match all you shits too,” he said, referring to his twin brother, Liam, the only brother who wasn’t there.
“Are you kidding me? You guys owe me!” Dace defended. “After the shamrock incident, when Luke had his meltdown?”
“It wasn’t a meltdown.” Luke grunted.
“Okay. It was a tantrum,” Dace fired back, referring to the night the brothers, sans Dace, got shit-faced at the bar. It was the same night Luke found out he was going to be a dad, and they all wound up at Rip’s shop for matching tattoos.
“We got something symbolic. It was a symbol of unity, celebrating our heritage,” Luke argued. “Solidarity and shit.”
Dace guffawed. “It was a fucking four-leaf clover. It may as well have been a damn leprechaun. It was a symbol of you being a pussy.”
Dace’s phone rang once more, and he again hit decline with a deep sigh that matched the tone of his heavy eye roll.
Luke shook his head, knowing exactly who his brother sent to voicemail, then nodded to the phone in Dace’s hand. “You’re a dick.”
“I’m with Dacey…the clover was lame. How about a company logo or something?” Wylie asked, trying to shift the conversation away from Dace’s problems. As the youngest but biggest O’Reilly, he tended to be the peacemaker.
“Right, and advertise exactly who we are. That should make our coverts pretty effective. Let’s just put targets on our foreheads and make it easy for the bad guys. We’ll start with you, baby brother,” Luke said.
Declan snapped his fingers to grab everyone’s attention and pointed at his phone as he listened. He’d said it was Charlie Tango – also known as C.T. – their friend and oftentimes associate on special cases. He was a lead detective for Portland Police – special crimes unit, specifically – and former military, which made him a local asset for Brother’s Keeper Security.
“Jane Doe,” Declan said, getting their attention again. “Jesus. The alley?”
The silence that handful of words commanded was deafening as they waited for instruction. C.T. didn’t call to talk shop unless he needed the brothers’ help or to send a warning their way.
“Got it. We’ll meet you there.” Dace hung up the phone and tapped vigorously at his screen before he slid it back into his pocket. He then reached for his jacket on a nearby chair. “Seems we have some business to tend to tonight, boys.”
“What’s Charlie Tango got going on? Need us to dig into things a little deeper than he’s allowed to over at PD again?” Wylie asked.
“Not exactly,” Declan said, turning to Dace. “He got called to a scene. A body. A woman’s body.”
Declan’s face went stone cold as he paused. It wasn’t like Declan to hesitate on anything, and this set a new tone that left the room thick with tension. “She’s alive but hurt pretty bad. No ID on her. Only lead is a name wr—”
Dace broke in before his brother could finish. The anxiety that encased his words came out sharp – the closest thing to fear any of the brothers would ever exude. It was like he knew whatever Declan was about to say was solely for him, and he wasn’t going to like it. The walls he often built around himself were fully erect. “What the fuck, Dec? Say it. Just fucking say whatever you’re going to say.”
“She had Dace O’Reilly written on her arm.”
2
“What are you doing here?” Dace asked, surprised to see his brother Liam waiting for them as he entered the sliding glass doors that led to the hospital emergency department.
“I sent him a message and had him meet us here,” Declan interrupted.
“City had a doctor’s appointment in the medical building across the parking lot, so I was already on campus,” Liam said with a nonchalant shrug as if to preemptively minimize what was about to be an explosive situation.
“You sent him ahead, you mean? You’re not telling me everything, Declan.” Dace turned to Liam. “And neither are you.”
Declan side-eyed Dace, letting him know his attitude was less than desirable. “Does it really matter?”
“Well, since his name isn’t Dace and�
��” Dace ran his hand through his hair, his mood darkening moment by moment. “Look, I got this. Why don’t you guys go home to your wives and kids? I’ll take this one since I’m clearly already involved somehow. I get it. You know something, and since you won’t come out with it, I’ll go see for myself.”
Dace pushed past his brothers.
“Whoa.” C.T. stood in his path and grabbed Dace by the arm, intercepting him as he breached the doors between the waiting room and patient rooms. “Where you goin’, buddy?”
“She’s back here, right?” He pointed at the row of curtained and glass-doored rooms along the perimeter of the emergency department. “The Jane Doe? If my name is on a near-dead woman, I’m hearing the message loud and clear. So let me go...” Dace tried to push past C.T.’s grip to no avail.
“Man, I’m not letting you back here. Not yet. You need to cool down. Smells like you’ve been drinking, so how about some coffee first?” C.T. offered in a low timbre as not to alert the staff to Dace’s semi-inebriated state.
“I’m fine, perfectly sober, man,” Dace fired back through gritted teeth, arms stretched wide as if he was daring C.T.’s next move. “Who put you in charge, Charlie Tango?”
“The city of Portland, asshole. This is my investigation. I’m trying to be understanding, but starting off as a jackass helps nobody.”
With the brothers flanking Dace, Liam said, “I don’t think you need to be in here, bro. I was…I was already back here.”
“What the fuck? He was already back here? What are you hiding from me?” There was a sense of knowing in Dace’s question. His nerves fringed, gripped tightly as he waited for the ultimate blow he knew was coming.
His past was tickling the back of his neck, forcing the fine hairs to stand on end. The past that landed Dace in Betsy’s or Rip’s chair more times than he could now count. The past he’d just been defending mere minutes before. The past that had him icing one woman while he pined for the memory of another. What were the odds his past had finally caught up with him?
“Dace, she’s about to go into surgery. They needed an…ID.” Liam tried to soften the blow, but he knew his brother was already reading between the lines.
“And?” Dace asked, shaking his head. “C’mon, man. Who is it?”
C.T. exchanged looks with Liam and nodded, granting him permission to tell Dace what he wanted to know.
Liam dropped his head. “We aren’t hiding anything from you. It’s just…”
“Hmph.” Dace’s shoulders went slack. “You think you’re protecting me, but you don’t need to. I’m a grown-ass man. Just say it. It’s her, isn’t it? It’s Ivy. That’s why you’re acting like this…with the secret shit.”
When the silence got the better of him, Dace charged past the group of men and marched down the closest row of beds, pulling back each curtain.
“Ah, Christ,” Wylie said, “I got him.”
Wylie was the youngest brother but by far the biggest. Being the youngest of six – five broody brothers and a sister who could hold her own in the bunch – it was necessary to be the biggest.
“What the hell is going on in here?” a man said, turning to the nurses’ station. “Get security in here, now.”
Dace looked at the man and snickered. “Like that’s going to stop me.”
“It’s okay, Doc,” C.T. said, now toe to toe with Dace. “I got him. He’s with me.”
“This is a hospital, not a…” The doctor turned up his nose in disgust, offended by the odor Dace was emitting. “Sleazy biker bar. Get the hell out of my ER. As of right now, you’ve already broken about half a dozen privacy and trespass laws.”
“Where is she? Where’s your Jane Doe?” Dace moved face-to-face with the doctor, puffing out his chest and rolling his shoulders back to intimidate the truth out of the guy – privacy laws be damned. “You can either show me where she is, or I’ll find her on my own…I’m trying to be polite here.”
“This is polite?” the doctor chided.
Dace moved in even closer, clearing any space left between them. “You really don’t want to see me pissed, Doc. Good thing you’re already in a hospital.”
The doctor’s eyes widened, and he stumbled back right into the nurses’ station. He looked at the others. “Pull your goon off me. If you think you can intimidate me into a boozy brawl, you’re mistaken. I’ll have you locked up. I-I…know people.”
Dace let out a boisterous laugh and poked the doctor in the chest with every word. “So. Do. I.”
Liam stepped between the two. “Dace. It’s her, okay? You can’t tell by looking at her because she’s messed up real bad, but it’s her. Please…you don’t want to see her like this. Let them do their job. She isn’t going anywhere.”
“How. How do you know it’s her?” Dace’s voice was reduced to a near whisper as he jutted out his quivering jaw in an effort to suppress his emotions.
Liam looked down, mustering up the courage to say what was going to feel like a knife to the heart. “The tattoo. She has the tattoo.”
Dace slumped and let out a breathy moan he didn’t realize he’d been holding. The tattoo was small. It was a thorny vine that wrapped the base of her left ring finger and attached to a heart that rested on top. He had the same thorny vine. It was their promise to one another. A promise of a forever that never happened. That was the last thing they did together before he left on his last mission – and she disappeared.
That tattoo was the reason he knew there was more to the story, and that she didn’t just get sick of waiting and leave. That tattoo – a symbol of their past and future – was the reason he never stopped searching for her. And now, it’s how he finally found her.
Feeling an ounce of compassion at the sight of Dace’s pain-filled expression, the doctor said, “Corner room. Number fifteen.”
Dace marched the final paces to the place where his life was about to change forever. Whether forever good or forever bad had yet to be determined. The room she was in wasn’t like the others. It was much larger, had a sliding glass door rather than a privacy curtain, and contained more medical equipment than the others.
He scanned the row beyond and realized all the rooms on this side were like hers. This wasn’t where they kept the patients with a sprained ankle or a nasty cough. The critical patients – the ones they staged for emergency surgery and intensive care – were kept here. These were the worst of the worst, and when he looked at her, he could see why.
Ivy was nearly unrecognizable. Her face was swollen and already every shade of black and blue with lacerations to match. There was a tube in her mouth, maybe to breathe, and a constant chirp let him know her heart was still beating. Her head was wrapped in a blood-soaked bandage while her arm was held in a splint, and who knew what else was ailing her under the blankets where he couldn’t see. But she was alive, and that was enough for Dace.
“She’s been prepped for surgery,” the doctor said in a somber voice, sympathy now laced in his words. “Her arm is shattered, and plastics will take care of the lacerations on her face. This will all heal,” he said.
“Is that…all?” Dace asked.
The doctor hesitated – his war with ethics and humanity visible. It wasn’t his place to tell Dace anything about his patient. Legally, he was bound to silence and obligated to protect the patient’s privacy. He didn’t know Dace from the next guy, but something about Dace’s reaction must’ve softened the man’s mood – like he felt the pain coursing through Dace’s veins and knew she was someone special to him.
“She’s badly bruised and battered head to toe, son,” he said. “Even though there is substantial bruising, she has no broken ribs. We didn’t see any internal injuries, but we’ll continue to monitor her in case there’s a small bleed somewhere. We haven’t seen any brain swelling, despite the evident head trauma. She’s actually quite lucky.”
“Lucky?” Dace asked with disgust. “This hardly looks lucky.”
C.T. stepped in. “She fought, Dace
. We could tell she ran and fought – there was evidence at the scene that told us she didn’t go down easy. Whoever did this underestimated their target. Look at her hands. Those are defensive wounds. We’ll be able to get DNA from under her nails too. Well, of the nails she has left, several are busted down to the quick…she left marks on someone.”
“Was she, uh…?” Dace swallowed hard. “Was she…?”
“No.” The doctor interjected as if he could read Dace’s darkest worry and wanted to spare him the painful words. “We don’t believe she was sexually assaulted. There isn’t any evidence of that. Obviously, we’ll carefully address that with her when she wakes up.”
Dace closed his eyes in a silent prayer, thankful he had one less thing to worry about. As it was, he would make whoever did this to her pay dearly, but thinking up retribution for that type of violation would take him to a dark place he didn’t care to visit often. He was grateful for the doctor’s optimism by choosing to say when, not if. He’d cling to that and hold everyone charged with her care to a standard that would ensure that when was sooner, rather than later.
“We believe there was more than one assailant. Forensics identified multiple rounds, indicating more than one person fired a weapon at her, given the trajectory and early analysis,” C.T. noted for the group he was enlisting for help since he knew the victim and knew at least Dace was somehow a part of the picture given his name was scrawled on her arm.
“That’s consistent with our findings as well, Detective,” the doctor said. “She has multiple wounds consistent with your theory. Oddly, none were actual hits, just deep grazes. One to her face just under the cheekbone that plastics will take care of and one on the opposite temple area. Her shoulder took a bullet, and one that hit her neck but missed the carotid. She took one to her leg too, and it appears to have been made by a different caliber. She’s lucky. Either they meant to miss, or they’re lousy shots. I’ve never seen such a thing in twenty-plus years in the ED, and we see a lot of GSWs.”
Brother's Keeper V: Wylie (the complete series BOX SET): NEW RELEASE + Series Box SET included! Page 92
