Blood and Fire (McClouds & Friends #8)(124)

“Thanks for the pep talk. You’re warming my cockles again.”

“You get more than encouragement,” Kev said. “I’m going, too.”

“Me, too,” Sean said. “Wouldn’t miss this freak show for anything.”

“Right. Bruno stared at them. “Real smart for a guy on the lam to bring along six foot four, blond identical twins, one of whom has distinctive scars on his face. Might as well paint you both neon pink.”

Kev and Sean glanced at each other. “If there are three of us, we can go faster,” Kev said. “We can’t go over the speed limit. If you get stopped, you’re meat. You’ll need someone to spell you.”

“No, I don’t. You think I’ll sleep while those *s have Lily? I’m never sleeping again. It’s a piss-poor idea. You’re not doing it.”

“We’ll be discreet,” Sean said.

“Yeah? How? Wearing an old-lady mask? Rolling an oxygen tank?”

Sean pulled onto the exit ramp and entered a strip mall. The streetlights lit up hazy halos in the soggy gloom.

“There’s a Hertz by that drugstore,” Davy said. “Stop there.”

“Don’t speed,” Connor lectured. “Keep your cell on you at all times. It’s tagged, of course, so we’ll be tracking you.”

The men got out. Davy leaned forward, tapping Kev’s window, which he rolled down. Gusts of chilly air dropped the temperature in the car. He gazed sternly at them. “Don’t get killed,” he commanded.

“Nope,” Sean said cheerfully.

The two men turned and walked away together through the rain. Shoulder to shoulder in that classic, stoic McCloud way of theirs. Kev had the vibe, too. The macho cowboy, riding off into the sunset.

Bruno stared after them, wondering if he ought to stage another raving freak-out to get rid of these clowns. Problem was, part of him was relieved to have the company. It was the same part that felt guilty.

“You’re kidding, right?” he said, on principle. “I’m going alone.”

“With exactly what pile of untraceable cash?” Kev asked. “You can’t use your bank account or your credit cards, remember? I’ve got money socked away in accounts that aren’t under my own name.”

Bruno looked at Sean. “Your wife is going to kill you,” he said.

Sean let out a mirthless chuckle. “She’s the one who decided to go on a road trip with Eamon in the middle of this mess.”

“That’s how you’ll justify this? She’s going to kick your ass, man.”

“Leave my wife out of this,” Sean said. “Mouthy punk.”

“I thought we’d established that I’ve moved beyond punkdom,” Bruno retorted. “I’ve graduated to total *. Now I’m going for my advanced degree in raving shithead. So why don’t you all just f*ck off?”

Kev gave him a long look. “No. Give it up.”

“Just let me do what I can do, all right? Nobody else has to die!”

“She’s not dead,” Kev said.

“You don’t know that.” Bruno’s voice shook.

Kev’s eyes did not waver. “She’s not dead,” he repeated. “If they wanted her dead, they could have plugged her with a sniper rifle and saved themselves all kinds of trouble. All that elaborate playacting? That means she’s alive.”

Bruno didn’t dare reply. “You still shouldn’t come with me.”

“I have to,” Kev said. “I can’t let you go alone. Don’t have it in me.”

“And I just can’t miss anything this bizarre,” Sean added. “It’s tontertaining. I can’t resist. You couldn’t pay me to stay away.”

Bruno stared into Sean’s eyes, straight through the guy’s mask. “I’m in your debt already. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

Sean’s smile was crooked. “Don’t tell me you still have that bug up your ass? After all we’ve been through?”

Bruno shook his head. “Not if you don’t.”

“Settled, then. Let’s get going. We’ve got a job of work to do.”





Petrie was starving, stiff, bored out of his mind. He’d freely chosen police work as a career, having had many options, and the only time he ever regretted doing so was during stakeouts.

But Rosa Ranieri would come out of that house eventually. He’d found a perfect side street with a view of Connor McCloud’s front door, framed through the branches of a tree. No one had made him so far, and that was lucky, considering he was watching McClouds.

He wasn’t worried about losing her. The GPS app on her smartphone nailed her to within a few yards. He’d called a friend of his who worked in the security office of her cell provider last week, promising to follow up on the paperwork asap, so he’d been watching her for days now. Thank God she reliably turned on her phone, unlike the other people in her family. Not that she ever answered his calls. Still pissed at him for the scare he’d given her. Didn’t really blame her.

He’d put in hours yesterday in the DA’s office arranging for a subpoena, so now it was legal and official, and everyone could breathe easy. And his ass was covered in terms of admissibility of evidence.