48. Finn
Finn
Guts and Glory
Patrick’s eyes widen when the bullet lodges in his guts.
Fuck me. Saoirse just shot her Da.
The old man bellows in shock and pain before his blood pressure drops too low for him to make much noise.
But it’s Saoirse who’s bleeding. She grips her belly and moans, almost as loud as her dying father.
She staggers off the bed and I see the mattress is covered with blood where she was sitting.
Patrick’s eyes bulge as the edges of his vision start to blur. I pull down the sheets and see more blood gushing out of his exploded stomach. It’s a mess—a large caliber, hollow point bullet does a lot of damage.
“Take her outside!” I shout to Feargal as he sticks his head over the window sill to see what the fuck is going on. They were expecting one shot, not two.
I have to say, so was I. This is fucking insane.
Two of my soldiers hustle into the room and hustle straight out again with each one supporting Saoirse on either side.
There’s so much evidence lying around. I’ve got to sort it out.
But I need to choreograph the scene.
The land line starts to ring. One gets me ten that’s the neighbors calling to find out what that noise was. I got to hurry.
“Will someone get the fucking phone? Tell them it was a rodent in the garden.”
Feargal’s voice shouts back. “That’ll get them calling animal rescue instead.”
I block out the sounds and focus. Rian shooting Patrick? No.
Patrick shoots Rian? No.
How can I make what just happened work for me? In the short-term and the long-term.
I leave Rian holding his weapon in his cold, dead hands for the coroner to find.
When I pull my sleeve down and pick up the revolver used to shoot Patrick, the barrel’s still warm. Unlike Patrick, who’s already starting to cool.
There’s a water bottle in the armchair. I leave it there.
I wouldn’t be very good at my job if I didn’t use everything at my disposal to reach the right outcome.
“Everybody, haul out!” I draw a tight circle in the air with my finger. “Tell Dugan to set the sprinklers on to remove the tire tracks.”
Feargal’s thinking on his feet. “Shouldn’t we do them too?”
I shake off the suggestion. “They’re bought and paid for. Leave them.”
I look forward as Feargal backs the car out of the driveway. Because this is probably the last time I’m going to be seeing this place.
***
I’m sitting next to Saoirse’s hospital bed when she wakes. Not seated in one of those arse-cramping plastic-backed chairs, but perched on the ledge where the flowers go next to the window.
No weapons are allowed inside the hospital, and I couldn’t be bothered to fetch a firearm made out of ceramic, so I have no choice but to stand guard.
Declan has already locked down his Sunnyside mansion. He won’t bring the fight to us; he has too few soldiers left and his button man, Rian, has gone.
But I wouldn’t put it past him to reach out to one of his power-crazy buddies to loan him a hitman.
He’s got to be feeling Goddamn sore right about now about how things panned out.
A nurse pokes her head into the room, but I saw her coming through the glass wall so I’m not spooked.
“Has Mrs. M—?”
She gets a look at my expression and backs straight out again. “I’ll come back later.”
She doesn’t come back later; she sends the doctor instead. He breezes in, full of that ‘I save lives and you don’t’ self-importance.
“Mister… er?” He keeps his tone brisk and professional.
“O’Shea. Finn O’Shea. I’m Saoirse Byrne’s partner.”
None of what I just said registers on the information the doctor holds in his hand.
“Er… We have a file on Mrs. Ma—”
It’s a good thing he came along, because I was getting bored. I’ve showered and burned my clothes. I’m now wearing a casual long-sleeved tee-shirt and jeans with army-issue tactical boots.
So, I move fast.
Snatching the clipboard away from him, I pretend to read his notes.
“That’s not her name. It’s Byrne. Got that? And her address is wherever I lay my fucking hat and call home. Yeah?”
He must be used to having all the authority, because he doesn’t run.
“I understand how worried you must be, Mr…”
“O’Shea.”
“Yes. Mr. O’Shea. But Mrs… Saoirse—”
He says it wrong, but I don’t hold it against him.
“She’s been through a very stressful time.”
“What was wrong with her?”
He holds his hands like a surrender. “I can’t tell you that, Mr. O’Shea. I can only tell her… Has she got a sister or aunt perhaps?”
The poor lad’s doing his best.
“I’ll ask her sister to come over.”
The doctor gives an audible sigh of relief. “Thank you, Mr. O’Shea. And if you like, I can arrange to accommodate a private security detail if you would like to post one outside Saoirse’s room.”
“I’m the only security she’s ever going to need.”
Taking out my burner, I tell Kenty to ask Father O’Malley to get Maeve over to the Diocese hospital.
The doctor scurries out and closes the door quietly behind him.
I go back to Saoirse’s bedside and find her eyes open.
She’s looking at me like she’s seeing me for the first time.
“Storí…”
She shuts her eyes tight and turns her back on me.
Everything I say and do after that, she ignores.
***
I sit in the waiting room so I can see when Maeve leaves. The two Byrne sisters are chatting with the doctor. I see them look over at me on the opposite side of the glass every so often.
The doctor sidles away in the opposite direction as Maeve closes the blinds so I can’t see inside.
Then, she comes out.
We meet halfway.
“My sister escaped from one cage, Finn. It’s hardly likely she’ll want to step back into another.”
“My cage doesn’t have a lock, Maeve.” I’m curious how much Saoirse has told her, but they requested a ‘No visitors, only family’ sign to be put up on the door.
“She needs time.”
“She’ll have all the time she needs—with me.”
Maeve presses her lips together in an effort to stop saying what’s on her mind.
“Saoirse’s been through it, Finn. Give her space… To process.”
“I will in my hoop let her fecking process!” I’m not the sort of man who plays nice, so it comes out like a snarl.
Maeve backs away. I’m about to go after her, but I see Father O’Malley hurrying along the wide hospital corridor.
He blocks my way. “I’m here to give our daughter the Holy Communion and hear her confession, Finn. Make yourself scarce, there’s a good lad.”
I grab the priest’s arm. “Will you tell me what happened to her, Father?”
He disengages my hand kindly. “No. She’ll tell you when she’s good and ready.”
***
I’m surprised when Shirley calls my burner.
Saoirse spent ten days in hospital, and she made damn sure only women were allowed in to see her.
Morag has left Declan’s, handed over the spa for that bint Maureen to run.
She’s spent a lot of time with Saoirse.
Shirley and Morag took turns watching over her. But like the priest, they refuse to tell me what happened.
“It’s Saoirse’s story to tell.” That old Irish excuse that we all pull out whenever it suits our purpose.
Shirley starts talking. “Listen up. Saoirse wants to meet on neutral ground. She doesn’t trust Declan, but she trusts to meet up with you, so be glad for that!”
It’s raging I am. “Doesn’t trust Maguire. You don’t say? Even after he sent Rian to kill her?”
Shirley is unmoved. “Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, Finn. She’ll text you the hotel room number. Be there and be nice.”
Be nice to the woman I offered to give my life for. It doesn’t get more ironic than that.
But I’m there at the mid-range hotel, waiting for her message at the right time.
My phone blips.
Here’s my room number, Finn. Come humble.
I mull it over on my way to her door. There’s war raging all around us. What does Saoirse suggest we do about that?
I don’t knock. I tell her. “I’m outside”.
She opens the door and lets me in.
If Saoirse wants her space so bad, she can have it. But only with me in it.