Page 61 of Player

Finn

I’m riding high after yesterday’s win. Part of it is knowing I’ve still got the touch. But I have to say, the way the minx is staring starry-eyed at ol’ Finn-boy certainly puts a spring in me step. She can’t keep her eyes off me. Seeing me with fresh eyes and liking what she sees.

About time.

“Last night was nuts, Finn.”

“If I had two brain cells, I’d be twice as dangerous.”

We took an early afternoon drive in a rental car to Gougane Barra, a fine piece of countryside in western Cork. I had a picture of the church here hanging on my wall back home when I was a lad—the closest thing I had to Godliness aside from me mam. I wanted to bring Clarissa here today and take a rest from work.

I pause from unloading the gear from the car boot to find her scowling at me.

“You could have been hurt.”

“I could have been a lot of things.”

I admit her fretting is doing a number on me. It’s been a long time since anyone gave two shites about me. Her tenderness stirs up a foreign feeling in me. It draws me in like a Van Morrison song. Provokes a calmness in me while still knocking me off-balance. I’ve a sudden, aching desire to pull her in for a cuddle. Show her all the things I can be.

But I don’t.

Because I can’t.

Touching her would be asking for trouble. Getting intimate, now that would be suicide. Hayden didn’t say much during my late-night call. Never does, the bastard. Is he pleased with how I, rather spectacularly, reestablished myself in the underground scene? Let’s just say he didn’t cuss me out. Leading me to believe he doesn’t know I’ve help or that Clarissa’s involved in the assignment.

Said so himself, I could do as I see fit. Except Boss runs a tight ship. Involving an outsider who’s quick on her feet and has excellent investigative skills might not seem like a sound choice. No, sounds like I’ve lost my bloody mind. Best stay quiet about her involvement and keep things with Clarissa as professional as possible. “You did good work last night.”

She beams. “Teamwork.”

I cringe.

“You’re the brawn and I’m the brains.”

“No.”

Her eyebrows lift.

I tap my temple. “You’re the muscle and brains.”

Her sweet laughter fills the air.

“We’re sucking diesel now.”

“What?” she gasps, laughing harder.

I remove the fishing poles and hand one to her. “Pray our luck continues and that Johnny will tell O’Brien all about my success.”

“You are the talk of Cork. O’Brien will take the bait, I’m sure of it.”

“The talk of Cork, eh?” I eat up her admiration like a half-starved pup. Jaysus, it feels good to be myself for a spell.

Fishing poles and lunch basket in hand, we walk around the sixth century stone monastery nestled there, now St. Finbar’s church. Behind it, is a large pond.

“It’s beautiful,” Clarissa exclaims.

I steal a look at her. Rosy cheeks and rich auburn hair twisted into a knot on her head. Eyes alight with pleasure. Beautiful is right.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”