Page 37 of Irish Vice

Liam drives her down in the Bentley, which lights my fuse, because I planned to take her in the Jaguar. I don’t like the thought of her on freeport property without me, even if Liam is one of my best men. Not when it’s only been a week since the Diamond Ring meeting with the rogue waiter, a week since I almost lost her forever.

We still don’t know who sent the gobshite I killed. I want to believe it was Russo, because then I’d have an excuse to go after the guinea arsehole, to take him out once and for all.

But Russo would have hit back by now, taking revenge for the jackeen I blew away. And if the waiter wasn’t sent by the Mafia don, I have no idea who wants Samantha dead.

Which means I’m half-mad with worry when I get to the conference room fifteen minutes before our scheduled time.

Liam’s standing by the closed door, face blank as a stone wall. “Boss,” he says, and just from the one word, I know he’s heard the whole story—the party, the dirty limericks, Fiona pressed against me like a bitch in heat.

“Get back home,” I snarl, even though none of this is his fault.

“Boss?” He’s staring at a point on the far wall. From the way his shoulders tense, I’m pretty sure he expects a sharp jab to the gut.

“I’ll see Herself safely home. Take the Bentley and go.”

“Boss,” he says.

I remember when Liam was one of my most articulate men. That’s why I assigned him to Samantha in the first place. I thought she’d appreciate a bloke who could talk about something beyond football and the price of Guinness. Now Liam’s vocabulary is reduced to a single word. And if I hear it one more time, I might tear his feckin’ head off.

When he opens the door to the conference room, Samantha looks up from the head of the table. She’s typing at hercomputer, which is projecting a map of Ireland onto the screen behind her. “Do you need me, Liam?” she asks.

“Boss is here,” he answers, as if I’m not standing right behind him, hearing every word. “Says he’ll take you home. I want to make sure that works with your plans.”

I should gut the gobshite right here, let him bleed out in the freeport hallway.

But Samantha sounds grateful. “Thank you for asking. I’ll be fine.”

“If anything changes,” he says. “You have my number. I don’t mind coming back. Any time of the day or night.”

“Thank you, Liam. I appreciate it.”

He tips an imaginary cap to her and closes the conference room door. His face turns back to stone as he says to me, “Boss.” He walks out without looking back.

I should kill him. Or throw him out of the Boys. Or thank him for giving Samantha what she needs and slip him a few thousand bucks for his good work today. One of those three. I just don’t know which.

I wait in the hallway, because this isn’t my territory. I have plenty of time to study the carpet on the floor, the paint on the walls, and a signed and numbered print of a can of tomato soup, floating in a jet-black frame.

At one minute to eleven, Alix Key shows up. She has a computer tucked into the crook of her arm and a professional smile on her face. She’s the freeport’s auctioneer, still handling sales even as she takes on more and more of the tax haven’s day-to-day operations.

“Braiden!” she says, as if I’m Diamond Freeport’s most important client. “Is the room locked?”

“Samantha’s just getting ready,” I say.

Alix looks surprised. Trap has surely told her what happened at the last Diamond Ring meeting. She knows what I did for Samantha. There’s no good reason for me to be admiring what passes for artwork instead of sitting with the woman I love.

But Alix is professional enough to ignore the disconnect. “I’m sure everything’s set up now.” She turns the knob and gestures for me to go in before her.

She’s right, of course. Everything’s ready. Samantha has a slide deck up and running, with my name, the date, and a snap she grabbed somewhere of a Celtic knot. I can’t keep my gaze from going to her hand, to the ring I gave her the day I proposed. It has a knot, too. It’s the symbol of the Fishtown Boys, of a family joined together for eternity.

I can’t hide my sigh of relief that she’s still wearing it—my signet, along with her wedding ring. There are words inside the gold band:Is liomsa tú.You are mine.

I need to remind her of that.

We’re joined by other freeport staff—a metallurgist who specializes in oxidation, a conservationist who works with manuscripts, and an intern from Sherman University who’s been tasked with a wide range of research.

The presentation starts off rough. I don’t know if Samantha’s flustered because I’m in the room, or if she hasn’t gone over the material enough, or if there’s something else going on. She’s distracted. She loses her place three times. She repeats an entire slide, without seeming to notice.

Alix interrupts before things get too out of hand. “Thanks, Sam. Maybe we could move on to an overview of the laws and regulations?”