“No, seriously. I’ve no idea.”
“Michael’s back in the hospital,” I told him when I saw he wasn't bullshitting me. “You know how close she gets to her guards. Maybe it's that?”
Though she hadn't been weird with me...
Still, Ma was used to me being her problem solver, but I had troubles of my own to shoot today.
Con finally looked away and turned to face me. “Da’s been weird as well so I don’t think it’s that.”
“Da’s always fucking weird.”
“Weirder than usual,” he corrected thoughtfully, his brow puckered with a mixture of surprise, concern, and confusion.
I didn’t blame him—he was Boy Wonder.
Boy Wonder was never toppled from his perch.
If he fucked up, he didn’t pay for it with a busted fist or a beating, not like me. He just got fined. Heavily fined, his pay docked enough that it’d piss anyone off, but that was it.
Me? I had a fucked-up wrist because Da broke it every time I 'displeased' him. Not anymore. That had long since goddamn stopped, but it didn’t take away from the fact I had a wrist that could scout out a storm better than The Weather Channel.
“Well, he ain’t fined you so whatever it is you’ve done, it can’t be that bad.”
Conor’s nod was slow. “True.”
As far as I could remember, he’d only been beaten twice in his life.
Twice.
I was jealous.
Da celebrated Conor’s quirks; he didn’t punish them.
“When was the last time he gave you a beating?”
Kid admitted, “A long time ago. Remember when Mary Ellen told me I’d knocked her up?”
I clicked my fingers. “Yeah, I remember that now. She was lying, right?”
“Well, you don’t see anyone calling me ‘Dad,’ do you?” he retorted.
“Got a point. Or ‘husband’ for that matter,” I tacked on. “What was the second beating for?”
“You keeping count?”
“One and two ain’t calculus.”
His lips twitched. “Second time was bad.”
“That I remember. You had bruises for weeks. I don’t remember what you did though.”
“Reappropriated funds Da sent to the IRA.”
I whistled under my breath. “Jesus, I remember now. When was that? Ninety-nine?”
“Yeah.” He grunted. “I haven’t done anything like that for a while though. I’m not sure why Ma’s pissed at me.”
“Maybe she didn’t like your gift.”
“It was a Fabergé egg!” Conor grumbled. “How couldn’t she like it?”
“Well, you did something,” I reasoned.
“Yeah, I know.” He scrubbed his chin, and though I sensed his confusion hadn't abated, his curious nature had him asking, “Anyway, why you sitting outside Da’s office?”
“Got a confession to make.”
“You a Sparrow as well?” Kid taunted.
“Yeah, I’m a fucking Sparrow. 'Course.” I pushed his shoulder. “Prick.”
He grinned at me, his confusion fading some. “Well? What is it?”
On any other occasion, I’d have told him it had nothing to do with him. Only this time, it did.
“I don’t wanna tell this story twice.”
“Then don’t. Get your ass in there. It looks fucking weird, you sitting out here like this, so you need to make a move.”
I’d gotten a few looks, so I knew he wasn’t wrong. Normally, I’d have nothing to hide, but I had kept something from Da… something bad.
“Think he meant what he said?”
“About the armistice?” Conor shrugged. “For today. Maybe not tomorrow. You know his moods are like the weather.”
That was exactly what I feared, but the truth was, I was running out of time.
Callum O’Reilly’s disappearance was starting to make waves.
Da had already asked me three times about him, mostly because his best bud, Mark, was Callum’s dad.
Priestley, the lying fucker’s wife, had come to my place sobbing four nights ago, begging me for information about the bastard’s whereabouts.
It was either have my ass handed to me or come clean.
On Armistice Day.
I knew how he worked. Had seen it in action after he’d made Eoghan toe the line before his wedding.
But I wasn’t Eoghan. I was integral to command and the men held me in too high a regard for them to hold me down while he beat me. That meant he’d go after Camille because our men weren’t as loyal to a new Russian bride as they were to me.
If he did that, I'd be forced to kill him.
That in mind, I got to my feet and muttered, “You need to hear this too, Kid.”
He arched a brow but shuffled after me, then bumped into me when I just stared at the door, my hand balled into a fist and raised, ready to knock.
“What the hell have you done?” Conor questioned as he backed off. “I ain’t seen you scared of Da in years.”
He wasn't wrong, but I’d never killed a Five Pointer before.
Five
Finn
When Brennan’s head popped around the door, I wasn’t sure who froze the most.
Junior gaped, and I definitely stared, everything inside me rejecting what his presence in the doorway might mean, but it was Senior who rasped, “Brennan, boy, if you’ve come to tell me you’re a fucking Sparrow—”
Bren stormed in, Conor at his back, and his immediate scowl had me relaxing some. “Do I have a label on my forehead or something? Jesus Christ.”
“No blaspheming,” Senior wheezed, but it lacked the usual ire that came with that chastisement. He sounded more breathless than furious. “What is it then?”
Brennan straightened his shoulders, wriggling them some as he moved toward the desk. “I got something I need to tell you.”
“Not the Sparrows?” Senior almost pleaded this time.
“Not the fucking Sparrows,” Brennan snapped before he blew out a breath. “Something else… something about the Sparrows but not to do with me.”
“What?” Aidan Sr. demanded.
“Callum O’Reilly—” Brennan hesitated.
Callum O’Reilly had gone missing just before Thanksgiving, so, interested, I asked, “What about him?”
Senior had been driving us all crazy about him. Making us put feelers out, but there'd been no bites as far as I knew.
Brennan shot me a look. “He was working with the Sparrows.”
Aidan Sr. tensed up. “Was?”
He dipped his chin. “Was.”
Conor shoved Brennan in the back. “Callum wasn’t a fucking Sparrow. I’ve been on the hunt for him since his disappearance, and I’ve found no links between him and those asswipes.”
Bren twisted around. “Kid, I’m telling you the truth. He was. He just hid it well.”
“How do you know?” Senior demanded, sitting straighter in his chair at Conor’s defense of Callum.
“I lied to you about those men behind the jewelry break-ins at Hummels. I didn’t kill them before they could talk. They talked first but I knew you weren’t ready to hear what they had to say, so I dealt with it.”