I simply smile.
It’s not like I can’t find out the name on my own.
Plugged in on the kitchen counter, my phone rings. I ignore it. It stops for a moment, then rings again. Several seconds after that call ends, a text chimes through.
Ar mhaith leat tae?
It’s from Declan. It means: would you like some tea?
Which is code for call me, shit’s happening.
I tell Tru I have to make a call and leave her in the kitchen. I feel her curious gaze on me as I head into my office and close the door.
When Declan picks up, I say in Irish, “Yes, please bring me tea.”
It’s more code. If I’d said, “No, I’d prefer coffee,” he’d have known it wasn’t safe to talk.
He says, “Caught somebody trying to plant an IED that had your name on it.”
I can tell by his tone that he’s amused.
Interesting.
Even more interesting is the IED. If one of my usual enemies wanted me dead, they’d try poison or a sniper. Again. Blowing me up with an improvised explosive device is new.
“Where?”
“Alley behind Cosentino’s.”
Cosentino’s is one of the restaurants I own. The one where Tru celebrated her graduation with her friends. “The alley? How do you know it was intended for me?”
Declan chuckles. “Because the guy Kieran caught red-handed planting the fucking thing told him it was.”
The warning Tru gave me clicks. I groan. “Let me guess. Latino kid. Good-looking. Mid-twenties. Big mouth.”
“Aye. Friend of yours?”
“Something like that. Where is he now?”
“Got him in the warehouse at the docks. Had him since the middle of the night, but didn’t want to, uh…” He coughs. “Disturb you. What do you want me to do with him? Fish food?”
“No. Bring him here. I want to talk to him. And not so much as a bruise on him, understood?”
“Copy that. I’ll text you when we’re on P1.”
Declan disconnects. I lock the library door, then use the hidden door behind the bookcase to access a corridor that leads to a service elevator. Then I head down to P1 to wait.
Twenty minutes later, I’m standing in front of a handcuffed man with a black cloth hood over his head who’s on his knees on the cold cement floor of my parking garage.
He’s hissing and struggling like a feral cat. It takes two of my biggest men to keep him in place.
Declan stands beside me, arms folded over his chest, watching with interest.
Through the hood comes an enraged male voice. It’s so loud it echoes off the walls. “I’ll kill every one of you pinche puto pendejo babosos! Take off this hood and face me like men!”
After a pause, Declan turns to me. “Just out of curiosity, what does pinche puto whatever-he-said mean?”
“Fucking faggot pubic hair slugs.”
Declan makes a face. “Well, that’s not right. Nobody says ‘faggot’ anymore. It’s pejorative.”
“But you’re okay with the pubic hair slug part?”
Declan shrugs. “It’s creative. Interesting imagery.”
Stifling a sigh, I look away from Declan and address my guest. “Hello, Diego.”
He stops struggling. The black hood sucks in and out with his heaving breaths. “Who is that?”
“Now you’ve hurt my feelings. Liam Black.”
“Fuck you.”
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, too.”
His voice rises. “Where the hell is Tru?”
“Living with me. I’ll tell her you asked after her. Now give me your word you’ll stop trying to blow me up, and I’ll send you on your way.”
That seems to surprise him, because he falls still again. The black hood cocks to one side. “You’re not going to kill me?”
“Unfortunately, I can’t.”
He cackles like a witch. “Haha! That’s right! You promised Tru you wouldn’t! Sucks to be you, asshole, because I’m only gonna stop trying to kill you when I actually do!”
I’m really starting to dislike this kid.
Declan says mildly, “He might not be able to kill you, but I sure can. Watch your mouth, or I’ll stick my knife in your ribs and carve you up like a turkey.”
That shuts Diego up. He kneels there, vibrating with rage. I realize the odd sound coming from under the hood is him grinding his teeth.
I make a motion for Kieran to get him on his feet and remove the hood.
When he’s standing and the hood is off, he glares at me with hostile, unblinking eyes, vicious as a viper’s.
“Why the hate, Diego? I thought we left our last meeting on such good terms.”
He’s so mad the cords on the sides of his neck stand out. His whole face is red.
He snarls, “Oh, you’re real fucking funny, aren’t you? This is all a big fucking joke to you. She’s a joke to you, too, isn’t she? You’re just gonna use her up and throw her away and it’ll be no skin off your back. If she doesn’t get wasted by a stray bullet meant for you first, that is!”
“If trying to kill me is your attempt at defending her honor, it’s misguided.”
He huffs out a short, sarcastic laugh “What the actual fuck would you know about honor, you criminal piece of shit?”
Declan unfolds his arms and takes a step forward. I stop him with a hand on his shoulder, then move closer to Diego myself. When I’m a foot away, I stop and stare into his eyes.
I say quietly, “More than you could ever guess.”
He looks like he really wants to spit in my face, but a quick glance over my shoulder to Declan makes him rethink it.
I continue in the same quiet tone as before. “You’re in love with her. I understand—”
“Do you?”
“Yes. Interrupt me again and I’ll have Declan cut out your tongue. I promised her I wouldn’t kill you, but I never said anything about relieving you of the power of speech.”
I have to give him credit. He doesn’t cower or shrink away, though his fear is plainly visible in the way the blood drains out of his face and his pupils dilate.
“As I was saying. She doesn’t need you to defend her.”
After a moment, when he’s sure I’m done speaking, he says, “She doesn’t need you to defend her, either.”
“Agreed.”
He doesn’t know what to make of that. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, looking back and forth from me to Declan, licking his lips and trying to figure out his next move.
“Listen, Diego. I want to ask you a favor.”
He blinks. Then says emphatically, “No.”
“You don’t even know what it is yet.”
“I don’t want to be your debt!”
It’s a good thing this kid is good-looking, because he’s as dumb as a rock. “No, I’d be in your debt.”
He looks confused, then suspicious.
Without giving in to the urge to roll my eyes, I say, “Tru will be back at work in a few days and back living at her apartment. I want you to look out for her. Don’t be obnoxious about it, and for fuck’s sake, tone down the chest-pounding Tarzan routine. She hates to be treated like she’s helpless.