Page 58 of Retribution
“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.
Chapter Twenty
Finn throws back his shot and pours himself another one. “That’s a silly question.”
“I need you to tell me what you did.”
“All these years, and you never asked anyone?” His searing gaze roams her face.
“I almost died. A hair’s breadth from death.” Her hand strays to her chest again. “Why would I want to relive that?”
I’m drinking my beer in great gulping swigs. I’m not sure I should be here while they’re talking about this. Their conversation is intimate. There’s a buzz between them that takes me by surprise.
“Thought you might have wondered why I never came back.”
“Every day.” Her voice is thick as her eyes fill with tears.
Finn’s tough exterior slips. He pours himself another shot as though drowning himself in alcohol can ward off whatever is still between them. “Don’t cry.”
“I’m drunk. Of course I’m going to frigging cry.” She wipes away her tears and holds out her glass to be refilled.
“I should go.” I glance between the two of them. Chugging back the rest of my beer, I place the bottle on the counter. If I stay, I’m intruding, and I doubt I’d learn anything relevant to my case. Whatever is happening here is based on their shared history.