"Pretty much," Conor confirmed with a cackle. "He can’t help it. In his defense, it’s in his job description."
Brennan shocked me by snorting. "Jackass," he grumbled.
"You know it," Conor retorted, but he sported a smug smile, like... well, as if being teased by and teasing his brothers was his raison d’être.
"I thought Sparrows were only in law enforcement and politics, spheres of influence."
"No," Conor disagreed. "They’re everywhere. Law enforcement uses patsies within the various factions inside the city. I’d imagine, within the country as a whole.
"They fit them up for crimes they didn’t commit, then if they don’t comply with the Sparrows’ wishes, they get shafted and sent to jail."
"So, they either ask for the death sentence by betraying their people, or go to jail for a crime they didn’t commit?" My eyes widened. "I hated them before, but that’s just mean."
"Yeah, they don’t play Polly Pocket," Brennan sniped.
"Leave her alone, Brennan," Declan grumbled. "What is it with you, anyway? Aidan likes her."
"Aidan loves her," Conor corrected, which made my cheeks turn pink.
"Love?" Brennan spat, scoffing. "He barely knows her."
Conor cackled again, and I had to admit, I was growing addicted to that sound. It was everything cheeky and naughty combined into a laugh and, as if it were contagious, made my lips twitch in response. "Yeah, says the man who’s been married for two minutes and is all over his wife like he’s herpes."
"Shut up, Conor. This ain’t about me."
"No, it’s about Aidan. It’s about him finally finding a woman he doesn’t just want to fuck but that he actually wants to be with. I mean, Da gave you shit about Camille, and it pissed you off, so why the hell are you bitching at Savannah?" He scoffed. "Hypocrite."
"Well said," I cheered, grinning at him. "See, I knew we liked each other."
"BFFs for life," he concurred with a snicker, his fingers still flying, until out of the blue, he whistled under his breath. "Someone’s approaching."
I felt Eoghan’s tension soar, then when someone’s cell buzzed, I was curious enough to watch and see if he flinched—he didn’t. Christ, that was cool.
"It’s me," Conor muttered. "Star, now’s not the time—" He paused. "Shit. Stand down, Eoghan. She’s on our side."
"Who the hell is it?"
"Dead To Me." Star’s voice filtered through the room now Conor had put her on speaker. "She’s a sniper—"
"We know who she is," Declan answered. "That psycho who gives her kills gifts before they die."
Oh, my God! I knew about her. She was wanted in all fifty states! Before I could fangirl again, Star retorted, "I wouldn’t call it psycho, more artistic. Hey, we all have our own creative flair. You never work a day in your life if you love your job, am I right?"
I chuckled. "Not sure that’s the same with snipers, sweets."
"Savannah? The fuck are you doing there?" She growled under her breath. "Conor! You were supposed to look after her. She’s, like, the one person in the world I don’t hate all the time."
Snorting, and feeling surprisingly light-hearted given the situation, I told her, "Feeling’s mutual, babe."
Conor's shrug was in his voice, "We told her to go to the safe room."
Star heaved a sigh. "I told you you had to get forceful with her. She’s got the self-preservation of a fly eying a pool of honey like it’s a treat."
"Hey!" I countered with a huff. "I am here, ya know?"
"Yeah, where you shouldn’t be. Are you trying to get your ass killed?"
"No, I just..." I frowned. "I don’t know. I didn’t want to miss out."
Star groused, "Savannah, at some point, you’re going to have to switch off the whole journalist thing."
"I can’t, it’s who I am—"
"This is a real touching conversation," Brennan growled, "but is now the time?"
"Why not?" Star countered, definitely not afraid to go toe to toe with him. "You’re safe now. Dead To Me confirmed the kills. That patch we added to your code, Conor, held."
"I noticed. Thanks, Star."
"My pleasure. They didn’t get through, but I’m surprised they even tried."
"You must have some information on the wrong people," Brennan intoned, sounding calmer now Star had shared that piece of news. "Who’s left on your shit list, Savannah?"
"Andrew Litten, Laurence Ozarc, James Lindenstein—" I listed the next ten Sparrows who were scheduled and ready to be published. I’d already written those exposés.
Conor wheezed, "You mean to tell me the Speaker of the fucking House, two of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and the Head of Homeland Security are Sparrows?"
I shrugged. "Well, yeah."
"Why the fuck didn’t you start with them?" Conor snapped, for the first time losing his composure. "Jesus, talk about burying the lede!"
"I wrote what I was fed," I shouted back, unafraid to get in his face. "In the order Star gave them to me. It’s not my fault if she gave them to me ass backwards."
"Why would you even do that?" Conor demanded of Star.
"Because I picked them in order of how much I hate them."
Despite myself, I had to snicker.
That was such a Star thing to say.
"Your arch-nemeses, huh?"
"Exactly," the woman who was almost a sister retorted, a shrug to her voice.
"When are you due to publish those names?" Brennan asked, and I was surprised by how pleasant he sounded now we were supposedly out of danger.
"Within the week. I was supposed to space them out over the next month, but we decided to flood the news over Christmas."
Declan remarked, "Maybe now’s the time to start hitting ‘publish?’"
A knock sounded at the door and I heard Eoghan slip away. When there was no gunfire, I assumed it was Dead To Me, because though she came in with the muzzle of Eoghan’s sniper rifle buried in her neck, she swayed in like she was striding down a catwalk.
I eyed her with envy because she totally owned the room at that moment, somehow giving her outfit of all black a panache that’d have made me look like a trash bag.
With an oversized sweater over some slimline sweatpants, she wore Doc Martens’ shitkickers and an asymmetric kind of woolen poncho that made her look stylish.
"Star? Can you ask this fucker to take his gun out of my neck?"
"Eoghan O’Donnelly! How could you be so rude? She saved your asses!"
Conor cleared his throat. "She has a point, baby bro."
"How the fuck do we know she is who she says she is?"
"Duh, because I said so," Star groused.
Eoghan sniped, "Do you have a picture? I’m not about to let her loose with my family unless I see some ID."
Star heaved an impatient sigh, but Conor’s cell pinged. He scrolled it open, then shone the flashlight in Eoghan’s direction, letting it scan the woman’s features.