Page 12

Chapter Twelve

F inn pushes away from the counter and comes to lean across the island. “What the hell is my deartháir beag doing taking you to the O’Malleys?”

I bristle. “You have a problem with me going to The Cage?”

“I have a problem with anyone associating with the O’Malleys.”

“Except you used to fight for them.”

“Means to an end at the time.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means I had an agenda. Didn’t work out quite how I wanted.”

“Ah,” I say, nodding. “Much clearer.”

Finn chuckles, and his forearms rest on the granite island. “Please tell me my deartháir beag isn’t thinking about climbing into bed with Derry.”

“Don’t know. I wasn’t feeling well.” I raise my spoon. “Apparently, the human body needs food to sustain itself.”

He drinks his beer in silence for a few moments while I finish my stew. His expression is impossible to read.

“How does The Cage work?” I scrape the last mouthfuls of the stew out of the bowl. My brother’s name echoes through my brain. The picture on the wall of Chad, frozen in time, won’t fall back into the recesses of my mind.

“Same as any of those underground things. Winning equals money and status. Losing equals no money and most likely death.”

“Do all the deaths happen in the ring?”

Finn’s sharp gaze tries to catch mine. “Lots of questions. Why do you ask?”

Because my half-brother was gunned down in front of me. Because my family was never the same. Because I suspect the O’Malleys did it.

“When we were there, the cleanup crew was dragging a guy out of the cage. He seemed like he was in rough shape.”

“I’m sure all kinds of things happen. I was never on that end of a battle.” He finishes his beer and opens the fridge for another one. “Drink?”

I shake my head. Pressing for more answers will cross the line from curious to intrusive. Lorcan and Finn can’t realize what I’m up to on two fronts—my brother’s killer and the FBI.

“You only drink whiskey.”

“Everyone has their vice,” I say.

“Hmm. Too true.”

“What’s yours?”

Finn slants his beer in my direction, a sly smile slipping onto his face. “You think I’m going to tell you that?”

“Never know.” I take my bowl to the sink with my spoon.

He’s so close to me his breath stirs the tendrils of my hair that have slipped from my ponytail. “Tell Lorcan if he gets into bed with the O’Malleys, he’s going to need that arms deal. The truce we have right now won’t last.”

His paleness is even more evident when we’re this close. He must be only a step or two from an albino. The Casper nickname is a kick in the teeth for a man like him. The tangy aroma of beer tickles my nose.

“What’s your problem with Lorcan? You’re brothers.”

Finn looks away to take a pull of his drink. “Half-brothers.”

“That matters?” Chad meant the world to me as a kid. I would have followed him anywhere, done anything to get more time with him.

“It does when your father had your mother killed to make way for his mistress and their bastard child.”

My sharp intake of breath is loud in the quiet kitchen. “Finn.” My gaze flies to meet his. That wasn’t in the file. Someone needs to be fired.

“That’s the first I’ve heard you say my name.” His lips twist into an almost-smile.

“I’m sorry about your mother.”

“It was a long time ago.” He downs the rest of his beer.

“You’re still punishing Lorcan for it.”

Finn’s icy focus locks onto me. “Careful, Kimmy. Careful.”

I clench my jaw, fingers itching to shoot something, punch something. Do something. In a fit of temper, I push away from the counter. Finn grabs my elbow, leaning close.

Freezing, I say, “I told you—”

“I know.” His voice is quiet. “You need to hear this. I entertained your questions tonight. You ask the wrong person the wrong question at the wrong time, and you’re a dead woman. Especially with the O’Malleys.”

With each word, his breath brushes against my ear. I suppress a shiver. “I’m aware of their reputation.”

“You don’t know shit, Kimmy.” He lets go of my elbow. “Any deals made with them aren’t worth the paper they’re printed on. Lorcan doesn’t need their money. Whatever he wants, he only has to ask me. Tell Lorcan he’s a stubborn fool.”

I face him. “Yeah, ’cause that’ll go over well.”

He gives me a steady stare. “I have no doubt you can be persuasive.”

“He’s not interested in my persuasion.”

“Every man is interested—it’s just the length of time he’s interested that varies.”

Part of me wants to slide up to him, rub against him, and see how long I can hold his interest. There’s a hum building between us that I recognize. How far am I willing to take this to get the information I want? To maintain the peace?

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I murmur, one side of my mouth lifting. At the doorway of the kitchen, I pause and glance back at Finn. “Why don’t you have an accent? Lorcan’s got several.”

Finn’s smile is like the sun rising, inching across his face. “Lorcan wants to fit in. I have no desire to do that.” He puts his empty bottle in the sink. “I didn’t spend as much time in Ireland. My time was cut short.”

Everything in me wants to stay and ask more questions. If Antonio is right about Finn, and I have to assume he is, I need to keep my insatiable curiosity in check.

Build the relationships. Tear the organization to the ground.

Lorcan’s office is empty, and so is the gym. The only other place he is likely to be is in his room. My hand hovers over the buzzer. There are lines I don’t cross. Living here, with them, is making me question where the lines lay. That can’t happen.

“Ring the buzzer,” Lorcan’s amused voice comes out of the box on the wall.

My nerves of steel serve me well when I don’t even startle. Searching the doorframe, I spot a tiny camera perched in the corner.

“I see you took my advice. That was fast,” I say.

The door clicks unlocked, and I open it. His room is more like a hotel suite than a typical bedroom. There’s a kitchenette, a sitting area, a king bed, and a few closed doors are probably closets and a bathroom. Unlike the rest of the house in darker shades, this room is in a soft gray with white accents.

“I liked your camera idea. When I see something I like, I take it.” Lorcan swaggers over with two drinks. He passes me one. “You feeling any better?”

“Much better. Thanks. It was stupid of me not to eat today.” Looking around, I realize there are no windows in his room. “This room cannot meet fire code.”

Lorcan laughs and lifts his whiskey. “I don’t play by the rules.” He smirks at me before flicking a switch. Walls fall away behind his bed, and it’s a vast expanse of glass between his room and the backyard.

“Impressive.” I swirl my drink before taking a mouthful.

“And yet, you don’t seem impressed.”

I wander around the room, peering at photos of him with his mother, a few with his father, one of him with Finn. Physically, he’s a lot like his dad. I suppose it means Finn favors his mother.

“What did my brother have to say after I left?”

“I told him we went to The Cage.”

Lorcan snorts. “You’re a terrible secret-keeper.”

“I feed him info. He believes we’re buddies. That’s what you want, right? For me to get close.”

A crease appears in Lorcan’s forehead, and he swallows his drink. “I want to know who killed my father.”

I understand that desire. Since seeing Chad’s photo earlier, the urge to find the person who killed him is almost consuming. If there’s a choice between this mission and finding Chad’s killer, I’m not sure what I’ll choose. “Why do you think it was Finn?”

“I guess if I want you to unravel this, I need to tell you something.”

“It would help. I don’t have to ask pointless questions if I already know everything you know.”

“The day he died, the house was empty. That never happens. There’s always staff or guards—someone. Finn inherited everything. Almost everything. This place is mine, but the rest is his.”

“Unless your father was going to change his will, Finn would have inherited it no matter what, right? There’d be no need to kill him. Did they get along?”

“No. Not for years. The trouble between them began when our father caught wind Finn was fighting for Derry’s dad. Before that, they seemed fine most of the time. Never overly close. My mum was the main parent. Father was too busy running his empire, killing people… not getting killed.”

“When did you and Finn stop getting along?”

Lorcan’s brow creases. “Hard to pinpoint.” He throws back his drink and crosses the room to pour himself a second.

Lorcan must not be aware Finn thinks their father had his mother killed. Why would he tell me if Lorcan doesn’t know? What game is Finn playing? “You two never got along?”

Lorcan takes a seat in an armchair and gestures for me to do the same. I wander to a chair and drop into it. A sigh escapes me, and I put my elbows on my knees.

Lost in thought, it takes him a few minutes to answer me. “We got along okay,” he says, his voice soft. “Till my mum was dying. I was sitting beside her, her breathing labored. Only fifteen. A kid. So hard to watch someone you love die like that. Worse than anything, I wager.” His voice is flat despite the painful subject. “Two people I worshipped the most speaking for the last time. And what does he say? He leans over her and says he wished she’d died instead of his own mother.”

“Oh,” I breathe out. I’m not sure I could imagine Chad ever saying something similar to my father.

Lorcan grimaces. “As you can imagine, our relationship started to sour after that. Twenty years later, here we are.” He spreads out his arms. “Living in the same house but having almost nothing to do with each other.”

“You weren’t here when your father was killed?” I have the answer, or at least I think I do.

“In Ireland. Father was trying to get some deals going there.”

“So why do you think it wasn’t the O’Malleys?”

“Nothing to gain. Nothin-a-toll.” Lorcan’s voice has the lilting quality I’ve come to associate with his authentic self. There’s a hint of an Irish accent, a little bit of a Boston one underneath. “Derry’s a braggart. He wouldn’t be able to keep it to himself, consequences be damned.”

“You still want me to go there tomorrow?” I set my drink on the table beside me, reclining into my chair.

“No.” Lorcan shakes his head.

But I want to go back. Chad’s there. The truth is there, somewhere.

“We’ll give it a few days.”

“Then I’ll go back.”

Lorcan grins. “Yes. Definitely you. It’ll piss him off.” The grin fades. “Not alone, though. Never alone. Understood?”

“You don’t trust me?”

“Trust is earned.” He sweeps my glass off the table. “Still, it’s not you. It’s him. If he thought he could get the best of you, he’d do it in an instant.”

“Kill me?”

“Among other things.” The glasses clink as he drops them into his dishwasher.

I push my hands into the pockets of my jacket. “We’re done?”

Lorcan nods and then meets me as I head to the door. He starts to key in the code to unlock it, and his eyes connect with mine. “Never alone. I’m serious.”

“You know.” I lean against the wall. “Despite what happened today with the not eating, I can take care of myself.”

His hazel eyes soften, and he comes closer. “I like that you’re tough, think you can handle anything. They’re good qualities—things I value. But when you work for me, when you represent me, an attack on you is an attack on me. I don’t want either of us in that position. He’s a predator. Don’t act like the prey. Be the pack leader, not the lone wolf.”

My body yearns to wrap myself around him. The sincerity in his eyes, the lilting voice, the confidence, the power, the sense of family implied in his words—it’s intoxicating. A lethal cocktail.

His fingertips graze my cheek as he moves a few stray hairs from my ponytail out of my face. “Understood?”

My gaze is locked with his. “Yes.”

The door clicks open beside us, breaking the spell, bringing me back to myself. I could sleep with him. It wouldn’t be the first time I found a mark attractive. These other things that keep bubbling to the surface need to be pushed under so deep I never feel the hint of wetness again.

“Good night.” I slip out the door, head lowered, then stride to my own wing.

As soon as I round the corner to my set of rooms, I slow. Against my bedroom door is Finn, scrolling through his phone.

When I approach, he glances up. “Ah, there you are. I need you tomorrow.”

I stop walking, keeping some distance between us. “What? Why?”

“You’ll see. I’ll clear it with Lorcan. Shouldn’t be a problem though. I’m the one paying for you to be here.”

Since Lorcan told me Finn controls the majority of the purse strings, his statement seems accurate. I’m not sure I want to go anywhere with Finn. “What if I don’t want to?”

“Then quit.” He kicks one foot forward to pop his back off the wall. He strolls toward me. “Because as long as you’re living under this roof and taking a paycheck from our joint account, you’re as much mine as his.”

“I’m not quitting.” I meet Finn in the middle of the hallway. “But I want to get something else clear. I’m not a possession. You don’t own me. Lorcan hired me. If he asks me to go with you tomorrow, then I will. I don’t answer to you.”

Finn’s lips twist, and he taps my nose. “You will, Kimmy. You will.” Stepping around me, he wanders away, whistling a tune I’ve heard before. With a frown, I punch in the code to my room, my mind trying to grasp the song.

In bed, hours later, it still remains out of reach.