The Departed

out. She had to let that lady know—let her know that Brendan was up here. That wasn’t good.
    “Tiffany, why are you in such a hurry? Slow down a little…”
    “I can’t…I…ah, I have to use the bathroom.” She winced as she lied, but she couldn’t slow down. Why was Brendan here?
    * * *
     
    BRENDAN knew he couldn’t do anything.
    Not now.
    He’d have to find another way to handle Beau, damn it. But he’d look in, see him. Couldn’t fucking believe this. What the hell? He’d thought he was done having Halers screw up his plans with Tristan being out of the way. And now Tiffany?
    Standing over Beau’s bed, staring at his slack face, he tried to figure out just what in the fuck had gone wrong. Why had Tiffany been there?
    “The doctors think he could wake up.”
    He looked at Kadie, Beau’s mom. She was still wearing her slut clothes from the night before, her makeup smeared from crying, her hair disheveled. Brendan made himself smile. “I bet he will. You just wait.” He wasn’t lying or trying to comfort her, either. The way his luck ran, of course Beau would wake up. “Why don’t you get yourself some coffee or something? I’ll stay with him.”
    “I don’t want anything. Although I wouldn’t mind using the bathroom.” She grimaced and glanced down at her clothes. “Beau’s dad brought me some clothes. He ran down to get some food—with his diabetes, he has to eat. But I do want to wash up and change. I just didn’t want to leave him.”
    She came around the bed and gave Brendan a kiss on the cheek. When she did, he could smell the smoke, the beer, and the sex on her. Keeping his eyes downcast, he stared at the still boy in the bed.
    “You’re a good friend,” she said softly. “Such a good friend.”
    He waited until the sound of her heels faded before he lifted his head.
    “A good friend,” he muttered. “Surrounded by fucking idiots .” Shooting a look over his shoulder, he headed around the bed and took the seat Kadie had just vacated. Leaning forward, he stared at Beau. “So, what’s up?”
    There was no answer, just the monotonous, steady beeping from machines. He was hooked up to several and although Brendan wasn’t going to dare, he imagined what it would be like to lean over and pinch off the tube that was connected to the oxygen tank. What would happen…? He could see himself doing it…
    “Hi.”
    Jerking his head up, he found himself staring into a pair of wide blue eyes. Those wide blue eyes, lined with heavy black eyeliner, were watching him with a disturbing amount of knowledge. And as he leaned back in his chair to meet Tiffany Haler’s gaze, Brendan had the weirdest damn sensation run through him.
    She knows…, he thought.
    But as quickly as he thought it, he made himself push it aside. How could she know?
    “Hey there, Tiffany.” He smiled at her. “I hear you’re a hero. Thanks…thanks a lot.”
    She cocked a brow at him. “Thanks?” For some reason, that seemed to amuse her and she started to chuckle. “Yeah. Whatever.” She slunk into the room and settled against the wall, her gaze moving from him to the bed, studying Beau before shifting to the machines.
    As her mother came into the room, he continued to watch Tiffany. If he wasn’t mistaken, there was a hell of a lot of suspicion in that gaze. What the fuck?
    “Brendan!” Tiffany’s mother moved forward and he stood up, bracing himself for the hug. She’d always been a hugger, stupid old bitch.
    “Hi, Mrs. Haler. Good to see you.”
    “Terrible circumstances, though.” She squeezed him and eased back before turning to rest her hands on the railing of the hospital bed. “Well, he’s looking better.”
    Tiffany snorted. “No, he’s not.” Then she lifted her eyes to Brendan and smiled. “But he’s alive. That’s a good thing, right?”
    Once more, that odd, disturbing sensation returned. She knows…
    * * *
     
    WHEN Beau’s mom returned, Tiffany slipped out. It was too much, having them all in there, especially with Brendan staring at her with his dark, flat eyes. Shark eyes, she thought. He had shark eyes. Lifeless and dead.
    She headed to the nurses’ station, unwilling to put herself anyplace where he might try to follow—and get her alone. She was too damn smart for that. One thing she’d learned after so much time being a target: don’t make it easy for them.
    She hadn’t been out of the room more than sixty seconds when she heard him come out,