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12
CONOR
I didn’t mind that she spaced out, mostly because I knew why.
If I’d thought I’d triggered her, then it’d be a different matter entirely.
Instead, she was slower than usual. Her eyes dazed. Her mouth was relaxed. Her coordination poor as if she were on a lag.
It meant I got to hold onto her longer, though, so I wasn’t going to complain.
She sat on my knee like the good girl she wasn’t, exposed and bare in a way I didn’t think she’d like, but she didn’t seem to be fighting even after gravity did its thing.
When I wondered if I'd made her glitch, I turned her so she lay across me and could cuddle up on my lap.
That was when I had confirmation she was okay—she cuddled into me.
With my chin pressed to her shoulder, I tugged the outer edges of my hoodie around her, and because it was oversized, it provided her with some cover, but mostly, I left her alone as I worked, knowing she was content and not wanting to disturb her.
I thought she dozed because her breathing calmed and she turned her face under my chin as if she needed the darkness to sleep.
I’d never felt as close to anyone in my life.
It was fitting that we shared this, then.
Beautiful, too.
Especially as I hadn’t ever associated her with these softer moments. Proof, I guessed, that we were supposed to meet.
By the time she was more aware, I was coming to the end of another task on my endless to-do list. Because the NSA had no idea what they were doing with Nimue, it meant that they’d tried and failed to cut me off from their source, but instead, they’d just made it easier for me to access it.
Which meant the hundreds of thousands of files they’d already started to collect on people were available for me to listen to, like my very own Audible of their persons of interest.
With a satisfied hum, I set my advanced search engine to work, rifling through the NSA’s targets and coming across some interesting names—Maxim Lyanov was on there, as was Misha Babanin… so were Dragon Head Zhao and Custanzu Valentini, plus a hundred other names.
My cell rang, making Star jolt on my lap, and I snatched it quickly so it didn’t disturb her.
When I saw ‘Ma’ on the ID, I sighed, mumbling, “I’d have preferred for it to be Riggs.”
“Riggs?” Star muttered back. “Your handler with the NSA?”
"The traitor." I hummed. “It’s Ma.” At her unsympathetic snort, I rolled my eyes and hit ‘connect.’ “Ma, what’s going on?”
“You’d know if you’d bothered to call me, Conor. I haven’t heard from you in over a week!”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Busy? Too busy for your mother?”
“I’m trying to bring down the New World Sparrows, Ma. It doesn’t just happen by itself.”
“You should be praying to Our Lady is what you should be doing. She’d help bring those horrible men down.”
“What about Jesus and Joseph? Can’t they get involved too?” I mocked.
“Conor!” she chided. “Your uncle says he hasn’t heard from you in a while also.”
“No, because I’ve been working,” I repeated blandly. “Are you spending a lot of time with him or something?”
“Not particularly.” She cleared her throat. “You are coming this Sunday, aren’t you?”
Well, that wasn't shady.
“I might not be in the country, Ma.”
“Where on earth would you be if you aren’t here?” she sputtered. “Since when do you leave America?”
“Since now.” I glowered at Star when she started snickering.
“Who’s that? I can hear laughing. Is one of your brothers there?”
“No, Ma. It’s…” I pursed my lips. “…my fiancée.”
Star stopped chuckling at that, her eyes wide as she stared at me, and I shot her a smug smile as I put Ma’s call on speaker, just waiting for the explosion.
“You’re ENGAGED?” she shrieked. “To whom? This would never have happened if your da were still alive. Where’s your head at, Conor? Do I even know this woman?”
“You don’t know her, and it would have happened if Da were still alive because she’s it for me, and my head is firmly on my neck—I haven’t lost it in the five minutes since this conversation began.”
“How could you do this to me?”
“I haven’t done anything to you,” was my calm retort. “This isn’t about you, Ma.”
“Who is she?”
“Her name’s Star Sullivan.”
“That’s not an Irish first name. Who’s her father? Harry Sullivan?”
“We don’t live in Ireland,” I grumbled. “And no, her father isn’t Harry Sullivan. She isn’t tied to the mob. She’s…” Inspiration struck. “Savannah’s best friend.”
“Aidan’s Savannah?”
“Yes. She’s the daughter of one of Dagger’s bandmates.”
“Who?”
“The lead singer.”
“The one who shouted through all those songs you used to listen to?”
“He didn’t shout,” I groused. “But yes.”
“Is that how you met? Through Savannah?”
“No.”
“Then, how?”
I huffed. “Is this twenty questions?”
“No, but it can be if you want.”
“I don’t. Want, that is.” I frowned when Star snorted. “I met her through work.”
“You said she isn’t tied to the mob.”
“She isn’t!” I reached up and dug my fingers into my eyes. When I scented Star’s pussy on them, I smirked and let my hand fall to her belly which she immediately slapped away, seeming to know where I was taking this. I pouted at her glower and said, “She’s an ex-soldier.”
“Does Eoghan know her?”
“Does Eoghan know every soldier who ever served in the US Army, Ma? Christ Almighty,” I retorted even though I knew Eoghan had met her during his service.
“Don’t be blaspheming in front of me, Conor!”
“I’m not in front of you.”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
“Da was the religious whack job, not you. What’s going on? Paddy isn’t practicing, is he? Giving you bad ideas?”
“Yes, bad ideas like good and evil, son,” she tutted. “I had an epiphany.”
“Between the last time I ate Sunday dinner with you and today?”
She sniffed. “Yes.”
“What was it?” I retorted.
“That I’ve not been leading a blameless life.”
My eyes flared wide at that. “No, Ma, you definitely haven’t.”
She ignored me, continuing, “And I’ve decided that I’m going to spend my remaining years doing what’s right by my sons.
"Inessa told me she thought she was pregnant, and it made me realize that those girls need me to stick around to help them.”
“Aoife can help them too,” I pointed out gently. “I understand you want to be there for them, but you don’t need to be putting too much pressure on yourself, Ma.”
“Aoife asked me for a lot of advice. When you pop out as many children as I have, you learn a few things.” She sighed. “You also learn what not to do. Aoife’s a good mother, but she’s a busy woman. Camille and Inessa would need advice, and don’t get me started on Savannah. If she doesn’t forget her baby in a restaurant sometime, I’d be stunned.”
“Aela did a great job with Shay.”
“She did, and she did it on her own, but they don’t have to do it on their own now, do they? They’ve got me.” She blew out a breath. “I was going to tell you this on Sunday, son, but if you can’t even take the time to come and eat roasted chicken with us, I’d best tell you now.”
“What?” I asked warily, ignoring the side dish of guilt trip.
“I’ve decided to sell the estate and move back to Manhattan.”
“I told you you should do that.”
“Paddy’s staying at Finn’s place, but I don’t think Aoife would appreciate me moving in with him there. I was wondering if you could find me someplace I might like.”
“Sure. I can send you brochures over if you want.”
“Would you come with me to visit them?”
I pulled a face. “Ma, I can try, but I’m going to be tied up for a while with this Sparrows’ BS.”
“Do you think you can eradicate them, son?”
“I do.”
She tutted. “Then I can wait to move. Does eradication involve pain?”
“No. It involves long jail sentences.”
“Or,” Star chimed in for the first time. “If their case falls apart and they think they got away with it, then there will be pain.”
Silence throbbed at the end of the line.
“Is that your fiancée, Conor?”
I rolled my eyes at my ‘fiancée.’ “It is.”
“She can hear us talk?”
“She can.”
“Isn’t it polite to tell people when you’re putting them on speaker?”
“It is, but we’re among family, aren’t we?”
Ma scoffed. “You’re rude. I’m sure I didn’t raise you to be this rude.”
“I think you’ll find you did,” I mocked. “Anyway, Ma, meet Star. Star meet Lena.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Lena,” Star drawled, crossing her eyes at me as she said the words.
“Yes, a pleasure to meet you too, Star. Is that a nickname?”
“No. It’s on my birth certificate.”
“Interesting.”
She made it sound like her father had called her Morticia.
“Anyway, Ma, I’ll get looking for some properties that I think you’ll like in the city. You want to be in Hell’s Kitchen, right?”
“Yes.” She hesitated, and I knew she was embarrassed because she thought Star could listen in. “Maybe somewhere in one of your buildings?”
“We have all the penthouses,” I pointed out. "Apart from Aidan."
“Your father handed those out like they were play toys. I’m fine with a floor in the middle of the building.”
“You’d be downsizing by a lot. Wouldn’t you want some outdoor space?”
“I can manage, son,” she drawled.
“How many bedrooms? Or will you be sharing with Uncle Paddy?”
“Conor Nathan O’Donnelly!” she gasped as I rocked my chair back and laughed silently. “How could you ask me such a thing with your father so recently passed?”
“Just figured you two were getting cozy.”
“Cozy is one thing—he’s very like your father in some things but far more relaxed.”
I pulled a face. “I didn’t need to know about your and Da’s sex life.”
When she released a second, sharper gasp, I half-expected her to hang up the phone on me. “Conor, you should wash your mouth out with soap.”
“Nah, that would taste bad.”
Ma huffed. “I apologize, Star. I wish I could say that he isn’t always like this, but I’m sure if you agreed to marry him, you know that’s a lie, and Our Lady wouldn’t approve of that.”
“She wouldn’t approve of you getting with Uncle Paddy either. Out of wedlock, that is,” I said, tongue-in-cheek.
“I’m going before you manage to blaspheme St. Anthony too.”
“St. Anthony? What did you lose?”
“Your father, of course!”
“Wasn’t he the patron saint of lost things ?”
“What’s your father if not that!” She harrumphed. “Hopefully I don’t see you on Sunday and it’ll give you a few weeks to grow up! ”
I snorted as she disconnected the call and turned to Star with a grin. “I think that first meeting went very well, don’t you?”
Star sighed. “Only you, Conor.”
I just winked at her.
Table of Contents
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