27. Connor
CONNOR
The smell of coffee fills the room. Men and women in business clothes hurry in, grab their orders, and rush out. Only a few stools are open at the front, looking out the main window. I have one and I’m defending the other from a series of annoyed interlopers. None stick around for long though.
I spot her coming. Tall and beautiful, her blonde hair in a chic bun, a long black coat. Her minders keep a distance. Big men with guns under their jackets. Dangerous, hard men.
Sinead enters, sees me, and lifts her chin. She takes her time though and gets a drink first.
“You don’t strike me as the Starbucks type.” She’s very composed as she takes the stool beside me.
“I’m not. Figured you’d be more comfortable here. Lots of traffic.”
“That’s smart. But lots of people around.” Her elegant eyebrows arch.
“Nobody gives a damn about a couple of idiots like us.” I sip my espresso and sigh. “Tastes like mud water.”
“I actually like it.” She adjusts herself and places her phone on the counter in front of her. “Why did you call me here, Connor?”
I nod at the phone. “You recording?”
“Not yet. But if I tap the screen—“ She leaves that hanging. Those big men will come running and they’ll shoot on sight.
“Understood. We’re only talking.” I run my hands through my hair.
Two days I’ve been thinking about this. Two days since Angie came to me in the middle of the night, fucked me mindless, then walked me through her findings. Two days to obsess and work it all out.
But two days in a war is a long time.
“From what I heard, you haven’t been interested in diplomacy.” Her lips press tightly. “My father is unhappy.”
“No surprise there. I burned down his favorite pub.”
“The Prancing Pony’s been in our family for two generations. I loved that place.”
I wave a hand. “War’s hell.”
“Fuck you, Connor.” That curse is the only hint she gives that she’s stressed. Otherwise, Sinead is measured and calm. Exactly what I need right now. “I’m about to walk out of here.”
“We’re trading blows. You know that. Your people kill my people, my people kill your people—“ I circle my fingers around each other. “Over and over until someone breaks.”
“More like until we both break.”
“Now you’re thinking.”
“My brothers.” Her nose wrinkles as she sips her coffee. “All they can see is the dishonor of our situation. Like you leaving me at the altar besmirched them and me somehow. Like we’re stained.”
“Men can think that way sometimes. We’re simple creatures.”
“You did not touch me, Connor Maguire. You made a choice, a stupid choice, but it says nothing about me. And yet my brothers don’t seem to get that.”
“Sounds like they should listen more often.”
“We’d all be better off.”
I reach into my jacket. She tenses, hand twitching toward her phone, but I only produce a manila folder filled with documents. “Here’s something you’ll find interesting.” I place it down beside her.
She doesn’t touch it. “What’s this?”
“My business WashCo’s been taking payments from a construction outfit you might be familiar with. These payments have been very quiet. So quiet that I didn’t even know about them until recently. I tasked my wife with auditing the books, thinking she might discover a line item or two, but instead?—“
Sinead drags the folder over and flips it open. “Marriage going well then, I take it?”
“We’re happy, thanks.”
“Good.” She looks up briefly. “I mean that. I assume you blew up both our lives for a reason, and I hope it was a good one. You care about her?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Love her?” She sounds surprised.
“For a while now, I think.”
“I never stood a chance then.” Her smile seems genuine, and I wonder what my life would be like if I had married Sinead Gallagher. With a woman like her at my side, what could I have become?
Anything. Everything. And yet none of it would’ve mattered.
Not when my angel’s in the world.
“There was something else too. My wife’s ex tried to blackmail her. And he got that idea after taking a lot of money from that same UBI company.”
Sinead’s nose wrinkles. “Fergus’s people. What kind of blackmail?”
“Photos of her. Sex material.”
“Bastards.” She taps a manicured nail against the page. “He’s been doing all this?”
“I’m taking it you didn’t know. And I bet that means your father and your other brothers didn’t know either. What’s Fergus after?”
“You. Me. Everything.” She snaps the folder closed. “I know what you’re doing.”
“What’s that?”
“Trying to play me against him. You want to divide us. You think that’s your only chance.”
I raise my cup. “How’s it working?”
She studies me, cold and calculating. A clever, strong woman, trapped in a family that doesn’t value her even half as much as it should.
The hell we could’ve raised together.
“I’ll be in touch.” She stands, slipping her phone away and clutching the folder under her arm.
“That’s all? After I give you that golden nugget?”
“That’s more than you deserve.” She pauses and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Send your wife my best. I wish her nothing but health and good fortune.”
“You’re a better person than I am.”
“I know.”
Sinead leaves. I watch her go for a while alone at the counter. Still nobody takes the stool as if I’ve become toxic.
I’ve struck back against the Gallaghers. Blood for blood. Flames for flames. But like Sinead said, in the end, we’ll burn each other out and there won’t be anything left for the winner. Without Whelan backing, I’m fighting to a standstill at best.
Unless I can find another way out.
I leave after a while and find Deck waiting with my Mercedes. He seems eager as I approach. “How’d the meeting go? Make her understand how things are now?”
“I think she got the message.”
“Good.” He shows all his teeth. “We’re gonna make them bleed if they don’t back off.”
“I’m glad you’re having fun.”
“Best few weeks of my life.”
I grip his shoulder tighter than I need. “I’m glad you have my back.”
Deck’s massive smile fades. “It’s what family does.”
I hold his stare for a moment before climbing into the back of my car. The driver pulls away, leaving Deck on the sidewalk, watching us go.