It was also missing between Ciara and the Conways.

Yes, there were similarities in the coloring. She was dark-haired. So was her father. But Ciara’s hair was as dark as Gabriel’s. Her coloring superficially resembled his and Rose’s. Black Irish: black hair, pale skin, blue eyes. While she didn’t closely resemble either of them, she could have passed for a Walsh better than for a member of her actual family.

No. I was jumping to conclusions. That damned Wiki entry had seized my imagination and made off with it.

I would show Gabriel the pictures, and he’d point out facial similarities, along with the general impossibility of my theory. The DNA confusion must be a lab error or misidentification of the body. Both were more likely than “switched at birth.”

I was forwarding my conclusions to Gabriel when I got an e-mail from him. It was his usual terse missive, more like an elongated text message.

Heard from police contact. Conways advised by anonymous call. So-called psychic. Male. No name. Said Ciara alive. Urged to have DNA tested. Call traced to pay phone. Can still meet with Conways but see little point. Will talk tomorrow.

Anonymous call? From a supposed psychic? I wasn’t even sure where to go with that. I finished my e-mail to Gabriel, hit Send, shut down my computer, and went to bed.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

I was still drifting off to sleep when my cell phone rang. Ricky’s number illuminated on the screen.

“Hey,” I said as I answered.

There was a pause. One so long I repeated the greeting before Ricky said, “Hey. Are you…? You’ve gone to bed, right?”

“Yes, but I’m not asleep yet.” I pulled myself upright, smile vanishing as I heard his tone, cautious and strained. “It didn’t go well with your dad?”

“I just … I need to see you. Can I come by?”

“Of course. Where are you?”

Another long pause. “Outside.”

“You’re here?”

“Yeah. I came straight here, hoping you were still awake, but then I saw your light was off and got your good night text and…”

“Come on up.”

I was barely at the door before Ricky rapped, just once, almost hesitant, as if I might have fallen asleep. When I opened it and saw him, I thought, It’s over. Don’s told him to break it off. The club comes first.

His gaze lifted to mine. A bruise was rising on his jaw, purple and red, and his lip was split, smears of blood on his chin where he’d wiped it off.

“Oh,” I said. I reached to touch his face, but he caught my hand.

“I’m fine,” he said, and came inside, shutting the door behind him. “I’m fine now.”

His lips came to mine, and I held back, thinking of his cut, trying to be gentle, but he pulled me to him, his kiss hard and hungry, the faint taste of blood on my tongue.

I laced my arms around his neck, fingers in his hair as he swung me back against the wall, hands pushing up my nightshirt, fingers hooking in my panties. Then he paused, breaking the kiss, panting slightly as he whispered, “I need you.”

“Yes,” I said.

Afterward, we were on the floor, half in the front hall, half in the kitchen. Ricky lay on top of me, catching his breath. He glanced up as something snagged his attention.

“Hey, TC,” he said.

I craned my head back to see the cat, sitting there, staring at him.

“Probably not the best way to make his acquaintance,” Ricky said.

“It’s not you. I swear, the first night Gabriel stayed over, TC sat on the couch and stared at him all night. He’s assessing the situation. Determining how likely you are to steal his food and his blanket.”

“I’ll leave him to his bed and find my own.” He started to rise. “Your room’s through there?”

“It is.” I pushed up on my elbows.

“Uh-uh. I got you out of bed. Least I can do is get you back there.” He scooped me up.

“Mmm, impressive,” I said.

He laughed, and I reveled in the sound, the look in his eyes, relaxed and centered now. He carried me to the bed and set me on it while he stood at the side.

“You okay with me staying tonight?” he said.

“I’d be more concerned if you finished your booty call and scrammed.”

“It wasn’t a booty call.”

“I know,” I said, reaching for him. “I was teasing. Come to bed. Talk to me.”

He stripped off his shirt and socks and slid into bed.

“You told your dad about us,” I said.

“Yeah.”

“And…” I touched the purpling bruise on his jaw. “He wasn’t happy.”

“Yeah.” A pause, then his eyes widened as he made the connection. “No. He didn’t—” He shook his head. “Definitely not. He’s never laid a finger on me. That was…”

He took a deep breath and propped himself on his side, facing me. “We had some shit to do earlier. Territory issue. New guys. Not bikers—just punks with bikes who fancy themselves a club. They want territory, and they’ve decided, since we’re the smallest club, they’ll take ours. We’ve been trying to stomp them without causing serious trouble. Dad doesn’t like trouble. It’s bad for business. Anyway, we went to have a conversation, and the asshole in charge decided to come at me instead. He figured he had ammunition. That picture of us in the Post.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. So he’s trash-talking you, and usually I’m good at ignoring idiots. But he stepped over the line, and I went off on him. Hence…” He pointed at his jaw and lip.

“Bet he’s feeling worse.”

I smiled when I said it, expecting he’d joke back, but his eyes clouded. “Yeah. I … really went off on him. I’m not like that. I can fight, obviously. I have to. But my dad and I don’t get into it the way the other guys do. Part of that’s how we are, but part of it’s a choice, too. Let the guys get down and dirty while we stay above that. We stay in charge. Never lose control. I lost it tonight.”

I must have looked worried, because he hurried on. “In some ways, it probably helped. The guys respect my dad even if he doesn’t mix it up. The old-timers have seen him mix it up, before he took over. Me, though? I’ve never done that, and I think some of them figure maybe I can’t. The college boy. Smart, but…” Another shrug. “A little soft. So, yeah, they were impressed. My dad, though…”

“Is not impressed.”

“Yeah. And considering what set me off? We didn’t need to have our conversation after that. I should have told him about us. Finding out that way?” He shook his head.

“He’s angry.”

“Hurt, more like. Confused. It’s always been just the two of us. Now here’s this major change in my life that he knows nothing about, and if it was just some girl from school, he could figure I was working up to an introduction. With you? No such excuse. He knows why I kept it from him, too—because I thought he wouldn’t like it. And he doesn’t. He really, really doesn’t.” Ricky rubbed his mouth and paused before saying, “It’s worse than I expected. He told me to end it. Not as my father. As the president of my club. He’s … he’s never done that before.”

The look in Ricky’s eyes told me Don wasn’t the only one hurt and confused here.

“Okay,” I said carefully. “So that means you have to end it, right?”

He shook his head. “He took that back. I think he was testing me. Seeing how serious I am about you. When I argued, he retreated, but…” He looked over at me. “My dad and I don’t fight. We disagree, sure, but even that’s rare. We’ve never had the usual parent–kid issues. This was an issue.”

“Because of Gabriel.”

Ricky nodded. “I know how bad this will sound, so bear with me. In a club, women aren’t exactly equal citizens, as you’ve figured out. They can’t be members. Even wives are kept out of club business. You’re supposed to treat women well, and there’s some serious old-school chivalry there, but that leads to a certain mind-set. Your woman is your…”

“Property?”

He winced. “I wouldn’t use that word, but it’s the gist. One thing you don’t do is go after another guy’s girl. Ever.”