Page 117 of Lesson In Forgiveness

So, she was resorting to keeping her corrupted brain too busy to start rolling the repetitive slideshow of Grit’s face by studying every scrap of intel she had on Donaghue, finding his patterns and routines, training her mind to think like an Irish mobster on the prowl.

When Aisling managed to identify his traveling companion from New York and confirmed that he’d picked up another three from Chicago, Tabitha memorized their photos until she’d be able to identify them from fifty feet away.

Her heart leaped as her cell rang; she almost answered automatically, hoping Aisling had an update. Hope dwindled into disgust at the sight of Ashford’s name on the screen; she ended the call swiftly, tempted to throw the phone out of the vehicle.

He tried twice more before passing the baton to Jasper, who ruthlessly called again and again. The stupid ring tone bleated, getting under her skin and into her head, riling her already overstretched emotions until she felt her temper audibly snap.

“What?” she snapped, finally losing her patience and jabbing the green button.

“Where are you?” No preamble, just straight to the point.

Her hands flexed on the wheel, her tender thumb throbbing. “Wherever I want to be. How long have you known Donaghue was in the country?”

“You’re in a mood,” he muttered, then sighed. “A week or so. We dispatched a team to intercept him as soon as we realized he was on the move.”

The bark of laughter was bitter. “They failed, obviously, which left Elias’s ass swinging in the wind. How am I supposed to protect him when you keep shit like this from me?”

“Protecting him isn’t your job, Tabitha.”

No? Then why the fuck was she sitting in a leased SUV, sweating in the hot Denver sun despite the A/C unit pumping cool air around her, searching for breadcrumbs to lead her to a murderer without a conscience?

She cut him off without another word.

Maybe she should just pack up what few belongings she owned, hop on a plane to the Bahamas, and let the boys fluff their egos while she downed an ocean’s worth of alcohol and worked on her tan.

A muscle in her cheek twitched at the sound of the ring tone. She stabbed the green button, gearing up to let her temper cut her brother off at the knees. She was done being seen as a nuisance, as the family lunatic.

No one respected her. Not her as a person or her skills in her chosen field. They saw her as a loose cannon, a wild card, a pain in the ass whose messes they had to clean up—not that she’d ever left anything behind she didn’t intend.

God, she was tired.

Tired of fighting to be seen as a person.

Tired of busting her ass to keep society safe from people much worse than she could ever be.

Tired of being in pain, being afraid, being alone.

She wished she was strong enough, brave enough, to take the incredibly sharp knife strapped to her thigh and just end the constant exhaustion permanently. Regardless of what anyone else thought, she believed it took an immense amount of courage for someone to commit suicide; how else did one take that step into the abyss, not knowing what waited?

Murder was different. Reaping the lives of others was therapeutic, at least it was when the victims were as rotten to the core as those she selected.

She wondered if she’d find that same peace by selecting herself.

“I miss you, little tiger.”

The traitorous organ beating in her chest, the one that didn’t know how to love, melted into a puddle at the sound of his voice. Tears welled up, poised on the rim of her eyelids.

“Come home, Tabitha. We can finish this together.”

She leaned into the phone as though it was his chest pressing against her ear. The last few nights had been long without the rumble of his voice to keep her company; she hadn’t slept much since she walked out of the hotel.

It was foolish to believe him. As far as she was concerned, the trust they’d built was gone, carelessly scattered to the wind when he chose to withhold important information from her—information he knew was vital to the completion of this job.

If she was stupid enough to fall for his come home line, she’d no doubt be scooped up with a black hood over her head and shipped back to Arizona before she had chance to regret her decision. In all likelihood, Atticus’s team of mercenaries were tracking her cell signal right now, poising to strike and remove her from harm’s way before they marched off to apprehend Donaghue like the good little soldiers they were.

Atticus was gonna be so mad if she killed all his best toys.

“There is no together anymore, Grit. You and my brothers decided to exclude me; now I’m on my own, I’m going to stay that way.” Tabitha squeezed her eyes shut, willing her voice not to crack and give her away. “I’m done. I’m not physically or emotionally equipped to be anything but alone.”

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