Page 21 of Retribution
“Willing to give up assets to protect you. That’s a good sign.” He pours himself another drink. “The two brothers?”
“Things are definitely tense, but they mostly ignore each other. At some point, Lorcan is going to expect me to start investigating the death of his father.”
“We know who did that.”
“The file is shit so far. We mightnotknow.”
“Lorcan thinks Finn did it?”
“Yeah, he does. His second choice is the O’Malleys. Any outcome leads to war.”
“Drag out the search—see if cooler heads appear in a few months.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
“You going to stop in to visit your mom on the way back?”
Taking a sip of my drink, I catalog the dingy bar. The wood is painted black, and the stools are nicked, showing flecks of white at the edges on the high backs. The tables have seen better days. “You closing this up when I leave?”
Malik sighs and tries to catch my line of sight.
I focus on the whiskey in my glass, and the burning sensation rolls down my throat.
“The bar exists as a meetup for agency people, so yeah, I’ll be closing. I might stay open for another hour or two after you leave. Better if the locals don’t put two and two together.” His hand covers mine across the bar, and he gives me a gentle squeeze. “You need connections in the real world, Kimi. It’s too easy to get lost in Kim without them.”
“You’re my real connection.” Even as I say the words, I realize they’re not completely true. We sleep together, and he understands me very well. But I know the bare minimum about him beyond the job. We’re friends, but I’m not sure how real that is sometimes.
“I like being someone you connect with. Believe me. But your mom isn’t going to be around forever.”
“The woman who raised me is gone, Malik.”
“The last time I called the home, she’d rebounded a bit. Worth stopping in.”
“I’ll think about it.”
When the bells above the door jingle, we both freeze. In the doorway, squinting into the darkness, his platinum-blond hair catching the only bit of light around, is Finn.
Chapter Nine
Once his eyes adjust, he takes me in at the bar. Antonio enters behind him, his wide shoulders almost brushing against the doorframe. Malik cleans the bar, far away from me now. His ability to read and assess a situation in a heartbeat is admirable. A moment ago, he was holding my hand.
Finn frowns and shoves his hands in his pockets as he wanders to me. “All the way to Newport for a drink at some shitty bar?”
“It caught my eye.” I gesture to the stool beside me. “Drink?” My heart hammers against my chest, reverberating across my ribs. He followed me. How did I miss that? The fact I didn’t realize is more terrifying than having him here. These are the kinds of mistakes that kill agents, lead to bloodbaths.
Finn slides into the stool beside me. Over his shoulder, he calls to Antonio, “Guard the door.”
“Whiskey?” I ask.
“Irish Car Bomb.” Finn gives me a sideways glance.
Swallowing, I raise my hand to Malik who is at the other end of the bar. He saunters toward us as though he doesn’t have a care in the world. His face and eyes are blank as he takes in Finn. Not a glimmer of recognition in him.
“One Irish Car Bomb, please.” I take a sip of my whiskey. Does he think he’s being funny ordering that drink? In Ireland, a reference to the IRA would get us chucked out of a bar. Or is it a warning? Does he know something?
Malik preps the request. He passes the shot filled with Baileys and whiskey to Finn and then pours him a pint of Guinness. Sweat trickles down my armpits. I lean onto the bar, letting my fingers slip inside my jacket to ease off the button holding one of my guns in place. More guns should be behind the bar. For Malik’s sake, I hope the ammunition is well stocked. With Antonio at my back, I won’t survive if this turns sour.
“Bombs away.” Finn drops the shot into the pint. His Adam’s apple bobs as he chugs most of the drink.