Paddy shuffles uncomfortably as Seamus growls low in his throat.
“But that’s because he didn’t know who you were. I got hurt a little while ago, and he wanted to make sure I was safe. He didn’t hurt me.”
Tristan’s eyes flicker over at Connor in his sharp, light gray suit. He swallows reflexively. Unlike the other two in their jeans and button-down shirts, Connor’s smooth, professional look seems to unnerve Tristan the most.
“That’s Connor. He’s Seamus’s cousin. He and his mother were at my wedding. They sat in the front row.”
“The man with the blood and the body?” Tristan whispers.
Crap. Fucking Niall. I grimace. “He’s not here. You don’t have to worry about him.”
Tristan doesn’t trust that. At all.
“Because he’s your husband’s friend?” he asks, the sarcasm shining through his sadness. Well, that’s progress, I suppose.
“Because he’smyfriend,” I tell Tristan, not caring that Seamus won’t like that. “And I trust him.”
It seems to be enough for Tristan, for now at least, and he nods, his eyes darting between the men at the door and me. Again, progress. They no longer hold all of his attention.
“Now.” I turn my attention to Tristan. “What’s going on? Why did you come and find me? Why didn’t you go to Mrs. Shawney?”
He swallows, looking a little sick again, sighing and scrubbing his face.
“She doesn’t believe me. When I tell her things, she doesn’t believe me.”
He sounds so young and miserable. My eyes narrow.
“What kind of things doesn’t she believe?” I ask, careful to keep my tone even.
“My mom.” He swallows, his eyes darting over to the door before he drops his voice really low. I have to lean in to hear him. “She got a new boyfriend. He gives her drugs at night. They both say that it’s to help her sleep, but then he locks me in my room, and….” he trails off, looking like he’s about to be sick again. I feel a flutter of fear low in my stomach.
“Mya?”
Tristan’s hands clench into fists. “She won’t talk about it. But last week, there was blood on her sheets. On herlegs.”
A white-hot rage burns through me. I should never have left my job.
“And Mrs. Shawney didn’t believe you when you told her this?” I clarify, feeling like I deserve a fucking Oscar for keeping my tone even and my face neutral. Tristan shrugs.
“I think maybe she did. But they did an ‘investigation’ and said it uncovered nothing.”
His tone is full of disgust. Disgust with thesystem, withJustine Shawney, with me. I don’t blame him. We’ve all let him and Mya down so badly. I suck in a breath through my nose and nod.
“Okay. You’re going to go home now, Tristan. I’m going to come with you, and I’ll talk to Mya. Okay?”
He nods, and I stand, holding my hand to help him up. Even though he’s thirteen, he’s small and skinny for his age, so we’re about the same height. Placing my hand on his back between his shoulder blades, I guide him over to the door. He flinches as we get close to Seamus and the others, but he holds his ground.
“We’re going to Roxbury.”
Seamus frowns. “Like fuck you are. That’s one of the least safe places in Boston.”
“Well, I suppose it’s a good thing you’ll be there to protect me,” I tell him coolly.
Seamus’s eyes flash, his jaw tightening as he lifts his hand, blocking the doorway. He wants to argue this point. He wants to forbid me, lock me in his office so I can’t go. Stepping right up against him, lowering my voice so only he can hear, my eyes lock with him.
“If you don’t take us there, I’ll go to those Vice cops out the front of the club. They’re here to protect and serve, right? They’ll take Tristan and me to Roxbury.”
Seamus’s nostrils flare, his eyes flashing with anger. “Fine,” he grits out through clenched teeth, his hands closing around my upper arms. “But we will have a fucking conversation when we get home.”