Viola gets her blades out instead and cleans the fuck out of them until Lorcan walks through the door.
“I don’t give a fuck. Just do what I tell you,” he says down his phone. He puts his cell away and comes over to where we’re sitting on the bed. “Fuck Joseph’s company,” he mutters, eyeing the impressive array of knives and switchblades Viola has already worked through.
“Did you speak to the lawyer?” she asks, glancing up at him.
He sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “Yes. They’re going through his papers as we speak. We might have to get him transferred to the place Quinn moved Rebecca to until we can get him signed off as not mentally unstable.”
“Can’t we just get rid of the file as we did with Viola?”
Lorcan shakes his head, taking a seat on the chair next to the bed. “No, Viola was never in under her own name.”
“I was,” I say to him. “You got me out.”
“No, Jude Marques is still in St Michael’s or whoever it was you switched with inside there. We’re still working on officially getting you out too.” He glares at me. “Another reason you can’t just fuck off. You do anything to alert the authorities that you’re not where you’re supposed to be, and you go right back in, got it?” He sighs, putting his head in his hands. “How the fuck did I become the babysitter in all this?”
Fuck this.
I start getting up off Viola’s bed.
“Where are you going?” he snaps.
“I’m going to get a beer. That alright with you, mate?”
Viola gives me a look like I’m not helping, which makes me want to run my fist through a wall. I stalk out and head downstairs. The kitchen is empty for once, so I take longer than usual to grab a beer. In fact, I sit on the sofa and flick through social media on my phone while I drink it. Lor can be a right prick when he gets it in his head that he’s running the show.
I’m still scrolling through my phone when Dante walks in.
“Where is she?” he demands.
“Fucking Lorcan,” I say just to irritate him. He narrows his eyes but doesn’t fuck off, so I put my phone down. “They’re talking about Byron,” I say, taking a swig of my beer.
“Tell her I found the redhead.” And with that, he walks off.
With a sigh, I get to my feet and chase after him. He’s getting into his car when I walk down the steps of the boarding house. The engine is one. He must have left it idling.
“Hey, Dante.” He looks up at me as he slides behind the wheel, one hand on the driver’s door, ready to close it. “Viola said you could help me something,” I add lamely.
He stares at me with unreadable eyes and then nods. “Get in. Not the beer. Chuck that.”
With a long-overdue sigh, I place the beer on the side and saunter to the passenger side of the Mustang and get in.
Fucking hell, what am I doing?
What Viola needs me to do, and I’ll do it every fucking time. No questions asked.