Page 47

"Cut the shit, Ryan. I need to know who's after my son."

He sighs. "Straight to business. You've changed."

"Having a child threatened will do that."

Ryan takes a sip of his drink. "Siobhan has a lover. Andrei Petrov. Russian. Ambitious. Not a man you want to cross." Who on God’s earth would want to be with her? She’s like a feral cat, you can’t keep her.

"And he's after Conor?"

"If Siobhan's been 'contained,' as I hear, then yes. Andrei will want revenge. He is an eye for an eye kind of guy."

"Conor's innocent. He's six years old."

Ryan shrugs. "Petrov doesn't care. To him, hurting your child is hurting Declan. And hurting Declan is hurting Cormac."

"Where do I find him?"

Ryan's eyebrows rise. "What are you going to do? Walk up to a Russian mobster and have a chit-chat? Girl, he will kill you."

"I need to talk to him. Make him understand that Conor isn't part of this."

"You think you can reason with a Russian mob boss?" He laughs. "Girls really are stupid. Conor is a part of this. He is a Donovan, and that man will not listen to you."

"Where is he, Ryan?"

He studies me for a long moment. "He owns a nightclub in Temple Bar. The Red Star. But you'd be insane to go there. You won’t get what you want."

"I'm going to try."

"Declan won't let you within a mile of Petrov."

"Declan doesn't know. And he isn't going to."

Ryan's eyes widen. "You're playing a dangerous game, Maeve."

"I'm protecting my son."

He scribbles an address on a napkin. "If you're determined to do this, at least go during the day. Fewer men around. And for God's sake, bring a gun."

I take the napkin. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me. If Declan finds out I helped you, he'll kill me." I know he will.

I stand to leave.

"Maeve," Ryan calls after me. "Be careful. These people don't see a mother. They see a means to an end."

I nod and walk out, the address burning a hole in my pocket.

On the drive back to the hospital, another text comes through. A new photo—Conor in the panic room, playing with Legos. How they got this image, I have no idea.

Nowhere is safe.

I slam on the brakes and pull the car over, nearly hitting a lamppost. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I punch the steering wheel. The panic room. Jack's fucking impenetrable panic room. They can see right into it. My heart pounds so hard I can't breathe.

I call Jack. "Get Conor out of there. Now."

"What? Why?"