Bitter Bite (Elemental Assassin #14)(26)

information? How long had she been insinuating herself into his life? How long

had she been laying the groundwork and buttering him up for this moment?

Deirdre lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, still staring straight into

his eyes. “That’s what Fletcher wanted you to think. But it’s true,

Finnegan. I’m your mother, and I’m alive. I’ve been alive this whole time.

”

Finn kept chuckling for a few more seconds, until he realized she was serious.

His laughter died on his lips, his entire body stiffened with shock, and he

didn’t even breathe for several seconds. He blinked, then blinked again,

peering at Deirdre in a close, intense way that he never had before. I could

practically see the gears grinding in his mind, all the memories he was

calling up, all the mental calculations he was doing, trying to reconcile the

woman in front of him with what little Fletcher had told him about his mother.

Deirdre’s red lips creased into a sad, wistful smile. “You’re even more

handsome than the photos I’ve seen,” she said in a soft voice. “I always

thought you had my smile, ever since you were a baby.”

She reached out and slowly placed her hand on top of Finn’s. He started at

the contact, but he didn’t automatically jerk his hand away. Instead,

something flashed in his eyes, something I had never seen before.

Longing.

A raw, naked longing that made him seem much younger than his thirty-three

years. An old, aching longing he would do anything to ease. A bone-deep

longing that worried me even more than all the pretty words Deirdre was

spouting. In that moment, Finn seemed . . . vulnerable, in a way that I had

never seen him be vulnerable before.

Finn shifted on his feet. From one moment to the next, he accepted what

Deirdre was telling him as truth, that she was his mother. I could tell by the

way he intently scanned her face, trying to find himself in her smile, her

nose, her cheekbones. But the worst part was the way the longing in his eyes

immediately flared up into a bright spark of hope.

“But . . . but how . . . why . . .” Finn stammered, for once at a loss for

words.

Deirdre squeezed his hand. “I know you have a lot of questions and that I

have a lot of explaining to do. Why don’t I give you some time to process

this? Then maybe we can meet tomorrow and talk about . . . everything.”

No words escaped from Finn’s gaping mouth—he just kept blinking and blinking

at her. So I stepped up beside him, put my hand on his shoulder, and took

charge of the situation. I didn’t want Finn spending any more time alone with

Deirdre. Who knew what lies and misinformation she had already fed him?

Besides, I wanted to hear exactly what she had to say about Fletcher.

“Why don’t you come by the Pork Pit tomorrow?” I said. “Say three

o’clock? Surely you haven’t forgotten where it is.”

Deirdre kept that soft, winsome smile on her face, but she couldn’t quite

hide the annoyance that flickered in her pale gaze. She didn’t like me

butting in on her reunion with her long-lost son. Too damn bad. Finn was my

brother, and I was going to watch out for him.

“Why, that’s a fine idea, honey,” she said. “I’ll see Finnegan then.”

“We’re looking forward to it, honey,” I drawled right back at her. “After

all, it’s not every day that a dead relative digs her way out of her own

grave.”

Deirdre’s smile tightened at my sarcasm, but she ignored me and looked at

Finn again. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” she said. “But most

of all, I want you to know that I never wanted to leave Ashland. I never

wanted to leave you.”

Finn stared at her, his eyes empty, his face blank now.

That wasn’t the response Deirdre wanted. Her lips puckered, and she opened

her mouth, as though she was thinking about making some other calculated

confession. But in the end, she just nodded and squeezed his hand a final

time. “Until tomorrow, then.”

He still didn’t say anything.

Deirdre favored Finn with another sad, soft smile, then slid off her stool. “

Right now, I’m going to go have a drink, get patched up, and pretend like

that bastard didn’t shoot me and ruin my favorite dress.” She let out a

laugh, trying to make a joke of things, but it was a thin, brittle sound, and

we could all hear how badly she’d been rattled. “Did you find me a healer,

Tucker, honey?”

“Of course,” the vampire murmured, his voice as bland and forgettable as the

rest of him. “Mr. Lane’s info was most helpful. I’ve already made the

arrangements. Please, allow me.”

He held out his arm. Deirdre looped hers through his, leaning on him for

support. Given the shock and adrenaline still coursing through her body, she

wasn’t all that steady on her feet, and she wobbled in her heels as Tucker