Author's Note:This first section is a conversation held in multiple languages. Since it's Murphy's POV, obviously he understands every word, so I refrained from spelling out the foreign words, translating, etc. For ease of reading, I also didn't use Italics in this part. Later on, when foreign dialogue is mixed with normal English, I went back to using Italics.


[Chapter 49: Wired]

Murphy took the lipstick case from him, tilting it into the sunlight. Wires. A tiny green circuit board with electronic bits attached. A button-cell battery.

He didn't have to say it. They both knew it was a bug.

A fucking bug.

His mind spun. This explained so many things.

Someone had been listening. Someone had just heard him shoot that thug. In their apartment, in their car—someone had heard every plan, every phone call, every name of every friend and ally and target they'd discussed since…since Annie had dumped her purse off the table and planted it there.

Murphy dropped the lipstick, to crush it under his boot it beyond recognition, but Connor moved too quickly.

"Easy, brother." Connor snapped the parts back together, then shrugged off his coat and wrapped the tube up tightly in the wool. "Destroy it, and we destroy our only link to the motherfucker who's behind it."

"No. We have a link. I just killed a man for her." He felt like a nuclear reactor on the verge of a meltdown. He kicked an empty bottle lying next to the dumpster. It spun weakly on the asphalt. He picked it up and hurled it against the brick wall where it didn't smash into nearly enough pieces.

Connor shook a chunk of glass from his boot. "Those guys work for the Associate," he said. "They're the same thugs I fought off of Leah. Same guy in hipster glasses driving getaway. I don't think that's a coincidence."

"I don't think it's a coincidence she was upstairs when they busted in."

"They were after her, though. And the bug was downstairs with us."

"Still too convenient." They were talking in murmurs, but every word felt blasted from the rooftops, even bouncing between seven different languages. "This has Beckman written all over it. I thought she was through helping him. You were right. I was lying to myself."

"Fuck, Murph. Even I never thought she'd go this far." He tucked the peacoat-wrapped bug under one arm, preparing to go back inside. "What kind of range do you think it has?"

"I don't know. Ten, fifteen feet?" Based on a thorough education in TV and movies. "Wait, that's for when someone's wearing a wire." He caught his own words, even before Connor's face changed.

"That's it," Connor said flatly. "That's how they timed it so she was upstairs, out of the way when they busted in."

"Jesus. Like a fucking bug isn't enough."

"Think about it—the questions she's been asking, the way she's acting so skittish. She broke into a damn sweat when you asked about Beckman. Wouldn't even look at you."

The thought sank into Murphy's gut like an anchor. "We need to check her before we take her anywhere."

Then he'd make her tell him every last thing she knew about Beckman. And then…and then they'd have to see how much of a Saint he really was.

"No confrontation. He'll have given her a code word to say if she's in trouble. We can't let her see it coming."

"Let me get her alone. When I call you, come and hold her, and I'll check her."

"You sure? With your arm-"

"My arm's fine. Besides, you don't think I can take her one-handed?"

"She stabbed you when you had two good arms."

"Jesus fucking Christ. It was dark. And I didn't know she was…you know. Lucifer's bitch."

"You sure can pick 'em."

"Some parts weren't so bad." For some reason, the good parts pissed him off the most.

He followed Connor back inside. Annie was still in the lobby where they'd left her, watching the pool of blood expand. It had almost reached her bare toes.

"It was self-defense," she said to no one in particular. "You had no choice. Just like on Saint Patrick's Day, with those Russians. And like those bodies in the crates last night…right?"

Not very subtle, although interesting that she put so much emphasis on the three already-dead bodies, and none on the dozen or so fresh kills in Bay Village. Or on Duffy.

"Annie, we have to go." Murphy pulled her away from the blood. She winced, drawing her hand back protectively. The burns had deepened to a dark pink.

"Oh, damn. Come on," he said, putting an arm around her, "let's run this under some cold water first."

Connor started down the hall, ahead of them. "I'll find her some shoes."

"Make it quick. This won't take long."

She had a black collared shirt on that would hide a wire, but was thin enough that he should be able to feel anything foreign beneath it. There'd be a mic taped somewhere, probably on her chest, attached to a recorder or transmitter tucked away someplace else. He walked her to Jake's workroom, sliding his hand down to her lower back, feeling nothing but a bra strap between her collar and the waistband of her jeans.

She didn't say anything, but her chin tilted just slightly towards him, acknowledging his touch, but not avoiding it.

Maybe the transmitter was smaller than he'd assumed. Movies had him searching for something the size of a pack of smokes, but for all he knew, the thing could actually be wireless. It could be the size of a pencil eraser. Why had he never picked Smecker's brain on this stuff?

He led her to the sink and turned on the tap, watching her in the full-length mirror that hung on the opposite wall.

She didn't move. "Murphy, those men came because they saw me last night outside Carmen Mancini's house. They saw me with Beckman." She paused, expecting a response to this heartfelt confession.

He didn't give one.

"I think they must have followed me home."

And then waited all night and all morning, until ten minutes ago, to strike. Patient motherfuckers. Or obedient. Moving behind her, he rolled her sleeve up and pulled her arm under the stream.

She sucked in a breath when the water hit her skin. "I'm sorry, Murphy. He made me go with him."

Don't let her reel you in. He let his hands rest on the counter on either side of her. He could feel her warmth, but nothing else. No hard edges, nothing that felt out of place.

"If I didn't go, Beckman was going to take Jake instead."

"Nobody makes Jake do anything." He heard the faintest squeak and checked the mirror. Connor's boot soles were right outside the curtain. Time to move.

"You don't understand Beckman," she said, her body brushing against him as she reached for a paper towel.

"That may be the first true thing you've said all day." Murphy leaned in, feigning a reach for the faucet, instead grabbing both her wrists and locking them in one hand.

"What are you-"

He clapped a hand over her mouth as Connor came through the curtain. Quickly they switched positions. She didn't fight. Her eyes were wide over Connor's hand. Murphy slid his hands along her sides from armpits to hips to ankles, then lifted up her shirttails and felt along the inside of her waistband, her pockets, and the inseam of her jeans.

"Nothing."

"Shirt," Connor said.

Annie seemed to wake up when Murphy started on the top button. She twisted suddenly, kneeing Murphy in the groin and heel-kicking Connor. Murphy doubled over. The button flew. Connor swore, struggling to keep control of her.

Murphy wrapped his hands around her ribs and squeezed. She let a muffled cry and went still immediately. He pressed harder, until tears sprang to her eyes, until she glared at him with dark understanding.

She nodded furiously. He could feel her heart like a drumbeat, beneath hands that he hardly recognized as his own.

Despite everything, it was incredibly hard to keep silent, to do this to her without any kind of warning or explanation.

Every word she's told you has been a lie. She planted the bug!

He undid the rest of the buttons quickly, then spread her shirt open. No wire. Only black lace.

Connor glanced down, scanning. "Bra."

Murphy looked at him.

"I'm serious. It's not worth the risk."

"I know. I'll do it."

Connor hesitated. Murphy put his hands back around her ribs, lightly, but with his thumb directly over the worst of the bruise. There was hatred in her eyes when she nodded.

Slowly, Connor let go of her hands, then her mouth. He stepped through the curtain. "I'm right outside."

Murphy turned her toward the mirror, standing behind her. He covered her mouth again, and with his other hand unclasped her bra. She brought her hands up, holding the cups onto her breasts.

This should have been a memory worth making, he couldn't help thinking. This should have been a moment he'd waited three years for. The kind of moment they'd almost had in his apartment.

While she was planting a recording device under his kitchen table.

He slid the straps off her shoulders, first one, then the other. Her eyes locked on his in the mirror, angry, challenging. Is this what you want?

He couldn't nod. Because it wasn't what he wanted. She'd left him no choice.

She blinked, and a tear hit his forearm. It slid along the edge of his cross tattoo, stopping at the tiny black spade that was Jake's signature mark. The mark that had brought Murphy back to the shop in the first place, back to Annie.

She dropped her hands to her sides. The bra fell to the floor. Murphy scooped it up, confirmed that the cups felt as transmitter-free as they looked, then handed it back to her, his eyes on the exit.


Murphy strode past Connor into the lobby. "She's clean."

Inside the workroom, Annie yanked the curtain shut.

"You're sure?" Connor asked him.

Murphy collected Ring-Nose's gun and ejected the mag. He stared blankly down at it, as if he wanted to count the bullets but couldn't remember how. Then he hung his head, his eyes squeezing shut.

"You all right?" Connor asked.

Murphy slid the mag back in and stuck the gun in his waistband. "Aye. Let's go."

Annie whipped the curtain open, clutching the top of her shirt closed. "Someone want to tell me what the hell that was?"

"We found your bug," Connor said. "Put your boots on."

"What bug?"

"Do you mean which bug? Is there more than one? Shit."

"Keep it down," Murphy said. "We don't know how much good that peacoat's doing."

Connor picked up the wool bundle, a terrible thought suddenly occurring to him.

"Annie, what kind of range does this thing have?" Connor asked quietly. "And don't fuck around with me, I'm talking about the lipstick bug you planted under our dining room table."

"Do you ever listen? I already said that lipstick's not mine." Murphy walked past her, back into the workroom. She looked up from zipping her boot to watch him rifle through Jake's drawers.

"Can it pick up voices from the next room?" Connor asked her.

Annie looked at him like he was crazy. "Your paranoia's made you delusional."

"I fucking need to know, Annie! It's not about me, it's about Leah. You want to see her get hurt?"

Annie raised an eyebrow. And she definitely didn't answer fast enough.

Murphy stepped between them, stuffing something into his pocket. "What's the problem, Con?"

Connor looked up at the ceiling, wondering how many ways a man could pay for getting something he'd never deserved. "Leah and I…we never shut the door last night."

"Oh, man. Somebody enjoyed that show."

"He'll know about the list now. He'll know about her father, and the money." Connor groaned, squeezing the bridge of his nose. "Murph, I swore to her. If her da gets hurt because of this, if she gets hurt--"

Outside, a siren began to wail. Connor froze on the spot, listening. Annie scrambled to her feet and hit the lights. Murphy watched the front window. Connor could hear the cracks spreading. The street was getting busier. Dark shapes of people passed by, distorted by the cracking spiderweb. It was only a matter of time before someone tried the door.

"I can't tell if it's cops or fire," Annie whispered. "It could be both."

"It isn't getting closer," Murphy said. "But we'd best go out the back and come around."

They kept Annie between them as they exited to the alley. Murphy pulled two sets of keys from his pocket. He tossed theirs to Connor and threw a leg over the bike.

"What, you're stealing Jake's bike now?" Annie exclaimed.

"He's going to need enough of an alibi as it is," Murphy said, adjusting the mirrors. "Least I can do is move this thing off the premises."

"I don't believe this."

Murphy checked the gas gauge. "There's tape in the trunk," he said to Connor. "Just the threat will probably be enough to keep her in line."

"I can't take her," Connor said. "I have to warn Leah."

"Fucking call her."

"She's not answering!"

"Oh, right."

Annie threw her hands up and stomped down the alley.

Murphy watched her go, but not until she was too far away to see him. "Give me the bug," Murphy said, opening the leather saddlebag behind him. Connor stuffed it inside. "Go," Murphy told him. "I'll deal with Annie. You find Leah and be careful. I'll meet you back at home."


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