Page 19

Chapter Nineteen

C arys is applying another coat of mascara to my lashes when the doorbell reverberates through the house. I agreed to let her dress me up for old time’s sake. I’m wearing a black dress that hugs the top half of my body but is flowing and sheer on the bottom. It’s pretty but flexible, so it makes us both happy.

“Sounds like someone is here.” She studies my face. “One more coat.”

“I’ll wake up tomorrow with raccoon eyes.”

“No, you will not because you’re going to take off your makeup like a good girl.”

“You know I don’t normally wear much makeup. I’ll need a crowbar to take this off.” I gesture to my face with a wry smile.

“I’ve hardly put anything on you. I wish I had skin like yours.” She flicks the mascara brush and rocks back on her heel, taking in my face one more time. “Perfection.”

Rising, I smooth down my dress. “You think these people Lorcan invited have something to do with you being here?”

“It’s the only thing I can think of. He said he’d make the trip worth my while. I told him you were already worth the trip.” She grins at me.

“Very flattering.” I give her a sideways glance as I swish out the bathroom door. I am flattered. Not many people see this light, playful version of Carys. Her image has to be tough to run her organization. Being weak makes her a target.

We wander down the hall together, talking and laughing until we get close to the large, open living room and dining room on Finn’s side of the house. The wood on the walls is dark, like the rest of the house, but the floor is lighter. It’s only used for wining and dining people.

She presses her thumb and fingers together. She draws them from her forehead down to her stomach in a steadying motion. “Game face on.”

“Let’s go make you some deals,” I whisper as we enter the room.

Lorcan and Finn are both in suits. Seeing Lorcan dressed like that will never get old. His tailor needs a raise. When I pry my focus from him to take in Finn, he’s tugging on his shirt collar as though it’s too tight. Then I realize there are five other men in the room, dressed in suits of varying style and color. They have reddish-brown hair, and each of them are a touch shorter than both Lorcan and Finn.

Carys puts a hand on my arm, and her face is alight with something like indecision.

“Carys,” I whisper to her. The men haven’t acknowledged us yet.

“Finn in a suit,” she whispers back.

“Get yourself together, woman. You don’t need another knife wound.”

“Right.” Carys gives a sharp nod. “Right.” Her hand strays to the spot on her chest near her heart. If there’s a scar there, I’ve never seen it.

Lorcan sees us first and comes over. He loops his arm around my waist as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. Normally, I don’t like being touched by a man unless I’m initiating the contact, but the warm press of his fingers through the thin fabric of my dress is comforting.

“Gentlemen,” he calls to the other men in the room. “This is Carys.” Using his free hand, he gestures to her.

As each man steps forward and shakes her hand, introducing themselves, their Irish accents are thick. They’re either Irish from Ireland or they’re recent immigrants. Lorcan mentioned he’d been trying to establish connections between their organization and someone in Ireland when his father died. Perhaps these men were from that faction?

“And this firecracker”—he gathers me tight to his side—“is Kim. She’s my everything woman.”

Every time he brings up that phrase, I can’t help smiling. It’s ridiculous. Each man shakes my hand. Liam. Gus. Jack. Connor. Thomas. As the names sink like stones in my chest, I realize I’m meeting the Byrne brothers from Ireland. My heart rate kicks up a notch. They’re lethal.

“The Byrne brothers.” Carys echoes my thoughts. “I’m honored.”

Thomas laughs. “It’s I who is honored to be in the presence of such fierce women. A woman should never be underestimated.”

“Very true.” Her gaze is assessing. “In town for a little business?”

“We were coming to meet with Lorcan and Finn. Lorcan mentioned you’d be here, and we thought we’d entertain any ideas you might have in how we could improve certain aspects of our business.”

“I’d love to.” She tips her head to Lorcan. “Did you want to do that first? Get it out of the way? Perhaps you can mull over what I can do for you over a few drinks?”

Thomas raises his pint. “I’ve already started without you, I’m afraid. Still clearheaded enough to talk business. Connor,” he calls to his shorter brother, who is talking to Finn. “Quick meeting with the lovely Carys?”

Connor excuses himself from his conversation and wanders toward us. They switch to Irish, which seems rude with me and Carys there. The two exchange a few brief comments about how they’re going to approach their conversation with her. They don’t say anything that raises an alarm in me. Otherwise, I’d be going into this meeting with her come hell or high water.

“You okay?” Lorcan’s voice is quiet in my ear.

I ease down my shoulders, relaxing into his side. “Just wondering what they’re saying.” Not true.

“I wouldn’t give Carys a meeting with people who’d screw her.”

“Literally or figuratively?”

One side of his lips quirks up. “She wants to get into literal bed with any of them, that’s up to her. But”—his fingers squeeze my hip gently—“figuratively speaking, I wouldn’t steer her wrong.”

For some reason, I believe him. I press myself closer to his side, and surprise flickers in his eyes. As Carys leaves the room with Connor and Thomas, Lorcan steers me to the other men.

“We speak a lot of Irish.” In my ear, it sounds like he’s apologizing.

“It’s fine.” I tilt my chin to catch his line of sight. “I can handle it.”

“You know Irish?”

“A little.”

Disbelief and confusion mingle in his eyes. “How?”

“My father’s a bit of an academic. He likes odd languages. Taught me and my brother a few bits and pieces.” Not my brother—he was dead by then.

“Full of surprises.”

Half an hour later, Thomas, Connor, and Carys return, laughing. Part of me hopes she got a deal, but another part of me hopes maybe she didn’t. If I manage to get enough evidence on Lorcan and Finn, she might be implicated by association. Agreeing to let her come here was a selfish mistake. I should have kept her out of this.

“Everything all right?” Finn looks between the three.

“She drives a hard bargain.” Thomas gives Carys an admiring glance. “There’s quite a brain in there.”

Finn’s attention lingers on her before shifting away and landing on me. He maintains his stony facade and takes another sip of his beer before something in the conversation beside him snatches his focus.

Carys approaches me and Lorcan, a martini clutched in her hand. “It’s a good day. It’s a good day.”

“Went well?” The corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles at her.

“Very. Thank you for setting that up.”

My stomach plummets, and I take a big gulp of my drink. “Glad to hear it.”

Connor’s voice catches my ear as he exclaims, “The O’Malleys?”

Finn’s interest flicks to our group and then back to Connor. Lorcan leaves my side to go to them. Right away, the men switch to Irish which means only Carys is excluded from understanding what they’re discussing.

She starts to tell me about the deal she made with Thomas and Connor. I should be listening, but there’s an undercurrent in the other conversation I’m desperate to catch. It’s one of the times when I wish I could divide my brain in half.

Snippets of the conversation are clear, but I can’t figure out the context. A caterer enters the room and whispers in Lorcan’s ear.

“Gentlemen. Ladies. Dinner is ready.” He gestures to the table.

I sit at the far end of the table. Lorcan is at the head on my right, Carys is across from me, and Connor is next to me on my left. Finn takes the other head of the table at the opposite end. Even at dinner, their inclination is to face off against each other.

Liam picks up the thread of the conversation as the soup arrives to the table. He glances between Lorcan and Finn and then says, in Irish, “I can’t believe you’re getting back in bed with the O’Malleys.”

“We’re not,” Finn responds, continuing the conversation in Irish. “Pretty sure they’re the ones who offed the old man. Not going down that road again.”

Thomas laughs. “You made them enough money when you fought at The Cage. You went undefeated, didn’t you?”

Finn leans back in his chair while his soup is placed in front of him. “I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

“What was the name of that hot-shot fighter?” Connor raises his eyebrows. “Catchy nickname?”

He frowns and picks up his spoon. “You expect me to remember that?”

Coming to life, Jack snaps his fingers. “Wicked something, wasn’t it?”

Gus swallows his soup and says, “Wickie, I think. Wicked Wickie.”

My heart thumps, and I’m afraid it’ll jump right out of my chest. My brother. They’re talking about Chad.

Lorcan and Finn exchange a glance across the table. “Hell of a fighter.” Lorcan sips his beer.

He knew my brother. Very carefully, I sit back in my chair and pick up my glass. My hand isn’t shaking, but my insides are in turmoil.

Across from me, Carys is downing her drink and signaling for another. I’m longing to ask if they know what happened to Chad, and if they know who might have done it. Lorcan knows I speak Irish, but their conversation has been complex. Revealing I’m fluent is different from admitting I speak and understand a few words.

Instead, I lean into him and whisper, “Can you switch to English? Poor Carys must be bored out of her mind.”

He notices Carys who is stirring her martini and checking her phone. A half smile touches his lips and then, in Irish, he tells the rest of them it’ll have to be English only, so the ladies aren’t excluded.

Thomas looks back and forth between me and Lorcan before nodding and picking up his spoon. “English, it is.” He shoots a meaningful look at the rest of his brothers.

The night continues with a lot of banal conversations surrounding things I can’t bring myself to care about, so I spend most of it drinking and chatting to Carys about her family and her business. It’s late when the brothers finish off their drinks and organize security to their hotel.

We trail them out to the front foyer, Carys and I chatting, when I catch Thomas saying, “Next time, you’ll have to come to Ireland.”

Finn chuckles. His voice is low as he says, “It’ll have to be Lorcan that does that.”

“You still haven’t been back?”

“No, too risky. I didn’t know what I was doing then. A punk full of rage.”

“That’s her, isn’t it?” Thomas indicates Carys.

I have an ear tuned to Carys and another to Finn’s conversation.

His gaze strays to her, and he gives Thomas a curt nod.

“What happened?” I call out to Thomas, curiosity getting the best of me. Carys stops speaking beside me and focuses on the men’s discussion.

Lorcan comes to my side and frowns. “An old story.”

“About Carys?” I scan Finn and her.

Thomas chuckles. “Indeed. That lass there caused a whole ruckus in Ireland when she got herself stabbed in a bar brawl.”

She raises her eyebrows, her voice steely when she says, “Got myself stabbed?”

Finn holds up a hand. “It’s in the past. No point digging it up. Thomas—I can’t come to Ireland.”

“Why not?” Carys steps toward him. “It wasn’t you who was stabbed.”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t focus on her.

“Apologies, Finn. Seems I opened a can of worms.” Thomas pats him on the shoulder before he puts on his coat.

She’s stiff with rage beside me. I link my fingers with hers. She squeezes my hand and chugs the rest of her drink before leaving for the kitchen.

The men head out the front door in a pack of laughs and backslaps. The way Lorcan and Finn behaved tonight, no one would ever know there was any tension between the two of them.

When the front door closes, Lorcan and Finn stare at each other for a moment.

“Are we pursuing that or not?” Finn asks Lorcan, his voice curt.

“Don’t see why not.” He eyes Finn. Wariness hums between them.

“Better book yourself a flight to Ireland, then.”

“Will do.” Lorcan’s attention strays to me. “You staying up?”

“For a bit.” I tilt my head toward the kitchen.

He presses his lips to my temple. My insides melt at the contact, and my hand strays to his chest. I shouldn’t have had that last drink. When he draws back, his hand trails along my arm until he’s out of arms reach and headed to his rooms.

“You don’t mind mixing a bit of business with your pleasure?”

My attention snaps to Finn at his dry comment beside me. “Depends on the type of business and the extent of the pleasure.” I glance over. “What are you doing?”

“One last drink before bed.”

I purse my lips and raise an eyebrow. “You must love trouble.”

He chuckles. “It calls me like a siren’s song.” He holds out his hands. “What can I say?”

He follows me to the kitchen where Carys is sitting beside an open forty-ounce bottle of vodka.

“Ah, going for some Russian relief?” Finn takes down a shot glass from the cupboard and passes it to her. He grabs another for himself but doesn’t offer me one.

I remove a beer from the fridge while he pours himself, and then Carys, a shot. When she stares up at him, there is misery written on her face.

“What’d you do?” she whispers.