“Why would he want that?” I demanded.
“Tell him what you heard, Eoghan,” Dec inserted.
“According to a friend, the ECD have been targeting the First Lady for a while.”
“The friend is a trustworthy source?” I queried.
“Definitely.”
“She wanted their tagline in that dishware Aela was making,” Dec argued. “She’s a friend of the ECD.”
“She’s a friend of Michael,” I countered. “Maybe Keegan blames her for Michelle’s death? We know she was there that day.”
“I tried to call Da,” Junior inserted, “but there was no answer. I think he must have left his phone behind.”
“What time’s their meeting?” I asked.
“Three on the nose.”
I stared down at my watch and grimaced. “Which way’s the cemetery?” I demanded of Eric the second I cut the call.
He blinked. “It’s just down that road there.”
“I want you to find me something near Acuig Corp., Eric. I don’t want to cross the river twice a day, do you hear me?” I sniped.
Aoife had just agreed to move out of the Victoria, but only if I vetted the properties first. I didn’t have time to be pissing around on Eric’s supposed ‘once in a lifetime’ deals.
“I hear you, Mr. O’Grady.”
“You better,” I intoned grimly, watching as he gulped and took a step away from me.
Smart man.
I headed out of the apartment, running down the stairs instead of using the elevator when it was taking too long to arrive.
When I was out on the road, I took off at a steady run. It was five to three, so I’d make it there faster if I didn’t grab a cab and get stuck in more traffic.
As I ran, I had to admit that the neighborhood was nice. I thought Aoife would like it here, and the condo, while not to my taste in its current style, might be something she appreciated. Sure, I’d have to cross the river for work, but that wasn’t much of a sacrifice if she liked it.
Eric would have been better off walking me around the neighborhood than showing me that fucking ugly condo.
When I made it into the cemetery, it took me a second to remember where Paddy was buried. But as I headed in that direction, I saw his crypt in the distance.
Surrounded by angels how it was, you’d have thought the Pope was buried within that tomb and not a mobster.
But the second I saw the crypt, I also saw a lone figure standing by the graveside. He had his back to the road, his head down, and because of the bright white of his hair gleaming in the low sun, I knew it was my father.
He’d been salt and pepper earlier in the year, but now all the darker tones had faded away.
I didn’t know if it was because of the breakdown of the family, or if it was learning what had happened to Conor, or if it was the two combined, but Senior was a broken man now. It was clear to see in his stooped shoulders. His withered frame.
Was he sick?
I didn’t know.
Lena hadn’t told me the last time I’d seen her.
As I approached, I saw a woman standing close by. She was hovering, seeming to watch my father until she stepped out onto the scene.
I assumed it was Elizabeth Davidson, but how the hell she’d escaped her guards, I had no idea. It wasn’t like the Secret Service were some two-bit security firm. To have given them the slip would trigger a bunch of protocols that made me wonder if her disappearance had hit the news.
Of course, Aidan was much the same. He had his own security detail as well, and I didn’t think they were in the vicinity.
At least, I couldn’t see them.
Whatever was going on here, Senior and Elizabeth wanted to keep it under the radar.
But why?
Surging forward with a burst of energy, I finally made it to Paddy’s plot, and that was when I saw the woman jolt like she’d been stunned.
She screamed, collapsing like a paper doll into the grass.
I dropped to my knees the second I saw her go down, flinging myself onto the grass to make myself a smaller target.
Then there was a deep cry of pain.
Aidan.
Straining to see what was going on, I happened to see a flash far ahead in the distance.
What was that?
Light flickering against a scope?
Jesus.
Over a thousand yards away, it was only visible because I was scanning the scene.
That was when I truly registered what had happened.
Elizabeth slumped over the grave.
Aidan faced me, but on his front.
I didn’t take a chance on the emergency services. Instead, I called in the medics who treated us for a price as I arranged for a car to come and collect us.
It was a Wednesday afternoon, and the place was quiet. But I didn’t know if the sounds of sirens would be deafening me soon or not. It depended on whether someone had heard the shots and correctly interpreted what they were.
With that arranged, I crawled over to my father.
Uncertain if the shooter was still there, I rushed as fast as I could, but something I’d heard Eoghan say to him once felt very appropriate at that moment.
‘You’ll die an old decrepit bastard because only the good die young, Da.’
I knew Eoghan was right.
Aidan Sr. was too young to die.
Yet when I reached his side, and I saw the mess of his back, an uneasy sensation lodged in my gut. It didn’t look good, if anything…
Jesus Christ, it was horrific.
I pressed my hand to his shoulder and rasped, “Aidan?”
He groaned. Long and low. Pained. Hurting.
I’d seen him felled by grief a lot this past year, and the sight of him down and injured, my old man, wicked and brash, taken out like he was prey, stirred my temper and triggered my fears like nothing else could.
Managing to shrug out of my coat, I balled it up and pressed it to his back where the bullet had done terrifying amounts of damage.
Turning him over as carefully as I could, I let his weight increase the pressure on my coat, praying that would stem the blood flow. He let out a hiss before, arms flailing, he screamed in agony.
“Da,” I intoned grimly. “I need to stem the blood flow.”
His voice was weak, a soft slur, as he muttered, “Finn?”
I watched his head flop to the side as he tried to find me, and I dropped down to look at him so he was more comfortable.
“It’s me, Da. I got the medics coming in. Don’t worry. We’ll patch you up soon.”
His eyelids fluttered, and for a second, he seemed to stop breathing.
I choked out, “Da? Wake up. It’s not your time to die yet, old man.”
A whisper of a smile ghosted around his lips and he said on an exhalation, “We always think that, son.”
Tears pricked the backs of my eyes. “You still got plenty of Manhattan left to torment.”
“Been a bad man, Finn,” he whispered, breaking off a second to groan. “I deserve this end.”
His pain hit me soul deep, so I whispered, “Come on, Da. You got this. Keep it together. You can’t leave Lena. You can’t—”
His hand snapped out at that, and he grabbed mine. “Knew I’d end this way. Second I saw her, I knew she’d be my death.”
“Lena’d never hurt you,” I argued.
His head wobbled like he was trying to shake it. “The ECD… they’re poison. Worse than Sparrows. They’re believers.” Then he smiled, and his teeth were bright red, coated with blood that had me looking up at the road, trying to see if the ambulance I’d ordered had arrived. “I’d still do it though.”