17. Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Seventeen
Finn
A fter he finishes sweeping the place for bugs, Lorcan passes me a beer in the kitchen of their tiny one-bedroom apartment. They’ve got some kind of blocker installed in their car, but everywhere else could be unsafe to speak.
Earlier today, sleeping on the couch didn’t bother me. Tonight, knowing I could be in Carys’s hotel room mean these cramped quarters will be a hell of a lot more uncomfortable.
“She’s not leaving?” He eyes me from the other half of the kitchen with his back pressed into the counter.
“Nope,” I admit. “I’m getting soft in my old age.”
He chuckles, and one side of his lips quirks up before he takes a sip from his beer. “Maybe you’re getting wise.”
“This seems wise to you? Letting her stay? ’Cause if I let my brain lead, it feels reckless to me.”
“Par for the course, then.” Lorcan downs more of his beer. “Kim’s none too pleased.”
“Not a surprise.” I roll the bottle between my hands. “What’s the PLA’s beef with the McCaffrey family?”
“Nothin’, as far as I can tell. I reckon they came up with that bullshit to get you on board. Your murdering spree to avenge Carys’s wound is legendary in certain circles.” Lorcan shrugs. “Pierre-Jacques is unhinged enough to go after the McCaffrey clan for sport. Motives are secondary.”
A twinge of recognition stirs in my gut. Not that long ago, that was me. Murder for sport. “You must have considered me unhinged all our lives.”
Lorcan chuckles and grabs another beer from the tiny fridge. “Indeed. Though now I reckon it was because you didn’t have anyone to hinge yourself to.”
“You’re saying Carys is a good influence?” I squint and ponder the implication.
He purses his lips and narrows his gaze. “You’re not so cocksure anymore. When you’ve got something to lose, life is infinitely better and worse. You’re always on the cusp of having everything you want or losing it forever.”
“Thanks for the recap.” I grab my beer cap off the counter and flick it toward the garbage.
His words hit me right in the chest. We’ve never been the type of brothers to have a heart-to-heart about our feelings. We both lost our mothers—in different, horrific ways. Both of us understand the unrelenting ache of loss, even if he let himself feel it more than I ever could.
“How do you reconcile having her in danger all the time?” I’d never choose a life of danger for Carys, but it’s been finding us and hunting us.
He stares up at the ceiling before meeting my gaze. “I fell in love with a woman who inserted herself into our lives. She seeks the thrill.” He splays a hand on the counter. “Bit like you, really. She walked into the warehouse trap set by you, hell-bent on saving me rather than keeping herself safe. I love her bravery.” He takes a drink of his beer. “Even as it almost kills me every day.”
I ponder his words and the notion of bravery in the face of danger. I would’ve stepped into the warehouse. Not sure I’d label it bravery. Nothing to lose versus everything to lose. “Carys told me she was no safer in Cape Verde than she is here.”
“And you believe that?” Skepticism coats every word.
I grimace. “There was that bombing at her hotel.”
“Heard about that.”
“You know anything?”
“No. Not us, far as I understand. Though they were definitely keen to get you locked in.”
I doubt the FBI played dirty to secure my cooperation, but it does mean there’s someone else out there with an axe to grind. With me? With her? The unknown is the hardest to overcome. I fiddle with my bottle. “If she’s here, at least I might see the danger coming. If she’s there—I’ve got no chance.”
The apartment door pops open, and Kim enters the kitchen with two bags of groceries and more beer. Lorcan takes the bottles, loading them into the fridge, while she ignores me to unpack the food.
“Maybe you caving to let her stay isn’t as selfish as I thought it was,” she says, without looking at me.
I almost spit out my drink. “You were eavesdropping?”
She shoots me a sly grin. “Occupational hazard.” She nods in Lorcan’s direction as she shoves a box of crackers into a cupboard. “He would have told me anyway.” She slots the last thing into the fridge and leans against Lorcan. His hand rests on her hip.
“Bad fucking habit.” I slide my beer onto the counter. The kitchen is too closed in for us. Actually, this apartment is going to drive me insane. It’s only slightly bigger than my prison cell.
“Except if you’re a spy trying to stay alive.” Her lips twist in annoyance. “You’re one to talk. Given the chance, you’d do the same thing.”
Is that what bothers me about her? We’re too much alike? Or maybe it’s that she doesn’t hide her dislike for me? There’s no veneer of civility between us. We rub each other in the wrong ways.
“Can you ask Carys to record her conversation with Evander when she fires him?” Kim takes a pack of gum out of her pocket and pops a piece into her mouth.
I eye her warily. It’s a good idea, and one I hadn’t considered. “I can.” Evander is connected to so many people and organizations, he might let something slip in their discussion.
“I’d text her.” She keeps focused on putting things away. “But we’re not friends again yet.”
“You think she can forget your betrayal?” I smirk.
She meets my gaze, defiance in her black depths. “She took you back, so I figure anything is possible.”
Lorcan tugs her against him and murmurs something in her ear. The tension dissipates, and she turns to bury her face in his neck.
“Tomorrow.” He looks at me. “Pierre-Jacques has a history of keeping his key people on site. It’s likely he’ll ask you, and perhaps Carys, to remain on the property.”
My forehead puckers at the notion. “Then she’d be in constant danger. She can’t stay, even if I do.”
He gives Kim’s ass a gentle swat as she heads out of the kitchen. “If you don’t let her stay with you, you might as well send her packing to Cape Verde. If she’s not tied to you, I reckon the PLA’ll consider her fair game.”
At every junction, her safety is compromised. I rub my face. “I don’t know the right move here.”
“Trust your gut.” Lorcan polishes off his second beer and sets it in the sink. “Your head’ll overthink, and your heart’ll be too cautious.”
My gut tells me to keep Carys close. While my presence might be a danger, I’m also sometimes the thing standing between her and something much more terrible.
We’re in the tin can car Lorcan and Kim use, and Carys, Jay, and I are crammed into the back. If this was one of those older girly sitcoms Carys used to make me watch, there’d be a laugh track attached. My shoulders feel like they’re wedged into a vise.
“Can you play it again?” Kim asks from the passenger seat, half turned to see us.
Carys hits the button on her phone again, and the conversation between her, Jay, and Evander streams through the tiny speakers. While we listen, I try to hear whatever Kim’s picked up. Most of it is Evander warning Carys against going after the PLA to rescue me herself. He managed to get information in the twelve hours between arriving and being fired. They’re planning a big, complicated job, and no matter what reasons they might have given for wanting me on their team, none of them are likely to be real.
“If the McCaffrey vendetta and the negotiation with the Byrne family aren’t legit, that’s going to be clear very quickly.” Jay reads my mind and slides a glance in my direction.
“Right, yeah.” Kim dismisses him, her gaze getting far away as the recording plays. “What he says right… here.”
Carys gives an exasperated sigh. Neither of us has much patience for Kim. “He calls him a sociopath.”
“Not that.” She makes a rewinding motion with her hand. “Go back again.”
Carys slides her thumb across the screen, and Evander’s deep voice pours out again.
PJ is a wild card. But so are a lot of the people around PJ. There’s a shuffling noise as though Evander is standing up or moving around. Watch yourself. I’m not sure the structure of the organization is what it seems.
His last warning could mean anything from PJ isn’t the real person in charge to PJ doesn’t have control over his men. Either scenario isn’t good for us. I glare at Jay. “You didn’t push back on that comment?”
“We fired the man and told him we thought we could handle your extraction from the PLA better than him. You wanted me to milk him for details?” Jay meets my glare with one of his own.
“Until his tits ran dry.” I let out a frustrated huff. “He was offering that information on a silver platter.”
“What information?” Jay tilts his head. “The ‘I’m not sure’ part probably indicated, oh, I don’t know, that he’s ‘not sure’ about what he’s saying. We weren’t being served anything but speculation.”
I tighten my jaw in annoyance. When the hell did Jay take his balls back?
“Still,” Kim says from the front seat. “We need to be on the alert for shifting allegiances, anything that’s out of the ordinary, unexpected people, pieces that don’t fall in line with what we think we know.”
I hold my burst of annoyance. Way to state the obvious again, Kimi . I liked it better when I was bossing her around. “What do we know?” I ask. “They terrorize people but not enough to actually get caught by any law enforcement agencies?”
“Bit like us at one time,” Lorcan says. He makes eye contact in the mirror. “Human trafficking, drugs, weapons. An anarchy claim supported by almost nothing. Pierre-Jacques says they’re going to start seeking revenge on their enemies. What enemies? No one seems to have a list yet.” He taps the steering wheel. “Very scattered. From what I’ve seen, I don’t understand why the CIA is so worried about them. No tactical core.”
The Irish scenery zips by before we turn down the narrow laneway to the PLA’s run-down castle. Tactics were always Lorcan’s strength. I brought the muscle and the will to win at any cost, and he created the plan to make it happen.
When the car stops and we’ve squeezed out, Carys’s face scrunches up at the decay. “They live here?”
I try to see the building through her eyes. A pale brick and stone castle with missing windows on one half and a clear remodeling attempt in the 1970s on the other. While we’ve been referring to the place as a castle, the actual building looks like it has a split personality. Run-down castle here and remodeled mansion there. It is huge, even if it’s not particularly attractive.
“Not exactly your penthouse suite in Chicago.” Kim leads the way toward the front entrance.
Carys’s step falters at Kim’s comment, but she ignores her. “I hope they have a decent cook.”
I slide my hand along Carys’s waist, and she leans into me, wrapping her arms around my middle until we’re almost at the front. Once we’re at the door, she stands up straight and draws her index finger and thumb from her forehead down to her chest. I smirk at her ‘game face’ routine. God, I missed her.
Just before we enter, I tease up the hem of her shirt to rub my fingers against the small of her back. I’ve spent months without her. Goose bumps rise on her arms. I want to haul her against me, ignore everyone else, and find an abandoned corner of this place. Shouldn’t be too hard.
The guard at the front door clears his throat to separate us for the search. After we’ve been patted and our weapons confiscated, Noel appears.
“I see you took PJ’s claim to bring whoever you wanted seriously. Carys.” He nods at her. “Jay.” He tips his head. “Welcome.”
His knowledge of them sets off an avalanche of tension. My posture tightens, and so does Lorcan’s, but Kimi is as loose as ever. She follows Noel toward the dining room, and her hands are shoved into the pockets of her leather jacket. Over her shoulder, her gaze connects with my brother’s, and it’s the first sign I’ve seen of unease.
Each seat has a placard by the plate, and when I notice Carys has been put beside Pierre-Jacques near the head of the table, my tension escalates. Jay’s name is also written in neat cursive on another piece of cardboard on the opposite end of the table. They’ve nailed the element of surprise over us. Between each are names I don’t recognize.
“PJ thought it would be good for everyone to get acquainted.” Noel gestures to the scattered spots across the close to twenty-person table.
I chuckle and snatch Carys’s placard from her spot then toss the name tag of the person next to me into the middle of the table. Using both hands, I place her name in front of the plate next to mine. When I meet Noel’s gaze, his eyes are bulging. Looks like I shot him. I could shoot him. I still have his gun even though it’s at the front door. Might set the right tone for today. Noel is not in charge. Noel is dead.
Was this what Evander meant about the power structure not being firm? ’Cause I can cement this pretty quick.
Carys’s hand rests on my forearm, reading my thoughts. “We haven’t seen each other in a while,” she says.
“Some of these people you’ve never seen.” He tries to use her logic against her. “We’ve got big plans, and you need to understand who’s in charge.” He glares in my direction.
I smirk. “Nah,” I say. “I don’t think so.”
“Gentlemen.” Pierre-Jacques strolls in from one of the side doors. He stops when he sees me and Noel at an obvious standoff. “And ladies.” He scans the seats. “The arrangement wasn’t agreeable?”
“Noel wants to play musical chairs. It’s not really my thing.” I grab the discarded placeholder from the center and toss it in Noel’s direction.
Pierre-Jacques smiles, but there’s a predatory gleam to it. “Ah, yes, he does like his games.” He waves a hand in an extravagant fashion, taking in the whole table. “Mix and match as you like.” He drops into the seat at the head. “I like my guests to be comfortable.”
Noel’s movements are tight with anger, but he retrieves the placard from the floor and places it at the empty spot. Other people file into the room. The last woman wears a deep-green gown that hugs her curves and a V-neck that plunges to her navel. It’s a dress designed to draw attention. As she takes her seat at the other end of the table, her gaze locks with mine. Carys’s fingers tighten on my forearm.
“Quite an entrance,” she mutters under her breath.
I raise her hand to my lips and kiss her knuckles. “She’s got nothing on you.” I mean that, but something about this woman is eerily familiar. Have I met her before? Her shoulder-length hair is chestnut brown, and from here, her eyes appear to be a dark brown as well. Maybe my age or a bit older. No matter what Carys might believe, it’s not possible to disguise the aging process, but I’d never tell her that.
Pierre-Jacques rattles off the names of the people around us, and when he gets to the woman in green, he grins like a Cheshire cat. “The vision at the end of the table is my cougar, Jade.”
Carys, who has been sipping her drink through the introductions, swallows beside me. Good ol’ PJ isn’t going to be winning himself any favors with a comment like that.
“I enjoy my women seasoned. Like you, Carys.” Pierre-Jacques turns his attention from Jade to Carys, tilting his glass in her direction.
Shots have been fucking fired. I reach under the table and squeeze her thigh, prepared to kick his ass if needed. Her age is the one subject we dance around like it doesn’t exist. Forty-six isn’t old, but Carys devotes considerable time to maintaining the gloss of youth.
She gives him a demure smile. “Well, bless your heart for noticing.”
The steel in her words and the common Southern phrase doesn’t go unnoticed by Kimi, who runs a hand across her lips to hide her amusement.
The first course arrives before I have to stage an intervention, and chatter starts up around the table. Nineteen voices talking in various pitches of excitement or boredom. I don’t participate in much of it—only when someone directs a question at me. I’m not here to make friends, and these aren’t the types of people I’d choose to be friendly with anymore.
“You okay?” Carys whispers to me as dessert is served.
“Peachy. Just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
She frowns and dips her spoon into the mousse. “At least the food is decent.”
“Finn,” Pierre-Jacques says. “Since you don’t have a place to stay, and I’ve heard Kim and Lachlan’s apartment is too tiny, I think you should remain here while your services are needed.”
My brother prepped me for this suggestion, and it makes sense. Pierre-Jacques doesn’t know Lorcan or Kim very well, and for some reason, I’m a valuable commodity. They’ve had a couple chances to prove themselves loyal, and as far as he knows, they’ve been able to keep me in line. “Depends on which side of the building you’re offering me. I’m not much for mold and decay. Neither is Carys.”
He waves me off. “No one lives on the castle side. It’s deserted. A relic. A glimpse of what once was. No, no. We live on the mansion side. You, Carys, and Jay can be accommodated. No problems.”
Carys and I didn’t discuss where we’d be staying while I worked to disassemble the PLA. Lorcan’s advice from last night still rings in my ears. My instinct tells me she’s safest with me.
When I don’t answer, Pierre-Jacques meets my gaze down the table. “In case I wasn’t clear—I insist.”
“Oh, I understood.” I raise my beer. “I tend to be more wild than tame. Pick your battles wisely.”
“So,” Pierre-Jacques says, surveying the attentive faces. “Sounds like we understand each other perfectly. Kim and Lachlan—collect Carys’s and Jay’s things from their hotel. Finn, your room is stocked with clothes. Carys, Jade took the liberty of ordering and having a few items delivered for you since you’ll be here longer than expected.”
Carys pops the last mouthful of mousse in her mouth and peers at me over the top of the glass tumbler. “Longer than I expected…”
I don’t respond but instead tip back the rest of my beer. I figured we’d be here a while, and I should have emphasized the unknown timeline with her when we spoke yesterday. Maybe she wouldn’t be here now. I can’t decide if having her gone would be better or worse. Better for her. Worse for me.
Whatever plan they’re working on must be tough to execute or they wouldn’t need me. That’s not the part of his speech that bothers me. The PLA understands far more about us than we know about them, and they’ve been one step ahead of us the whole time. How do I protect her when I can’t see where the path is leading?