Page 82 of Thy Kingdom Come
“I can’t tell ye.” Before he can argue, I add, “Because I don’t even understand it myself. But once I do, I swear it, I’ll tell ya.”
He doesn’t press as we have other issues to deal with—like getting rid of the remaining bricks before the peelers bust down the door. I turn on the taps to douse the flames once there is nothing left but black ash, which I push down the drain.
We both sprint into the bedroom to gather the remaining bricks and push the trunk over the safe. Everything looks the way it should.
As Uncle Sean is cutting into the last one, we hear loud voices just outside the door.
“I won’t let them take ya. Ya play stupid, ya hear?”
“They already know I’m guilty,” I say, appreciating him taking the fall for me. But I won’t allow it.
The last of the gear is down the toilet when the door bursts open. Uncle Sean frantically flushes it while I open the window and toss the last packet out. It sails to the ground and gets caught in Fiona’s flowering bushes.
Even if the peelers find it, they can’t prove it’s ours. And even if they do, it’s an empty brick. Hardly enough to have us lifted.
Connor storms in with Donovan and two peelers following close behind. When he sees us, standing casually, he arches a brow. Uncle Sean pats himself down, and when he finds his fegs, he offers me one. I take one with a smile.
“We have a warrant to search the property,” Donovan says, producing a piece of paper.
Uncle Sean shrugs offhandedly, lighting his feg with a match. “And this couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”
“I’ve called our lawyer,” Connor states angrily, no longer interested in being Donovan’s friend.
“Why bother? We’ve got nothin’ to hide.” Uncle Sean blows a smoke ring.
“Why does it smell like smoke in here?” asks a peeler, sniffing the air.
Raising my feg, I give him a reason. But Donovan isn’t convinced. He peers into the bathtub and although he can see small specks of black ash, that doesn’t prove a thing.
“Have ya not heard? One of my men had his hand broken. Ya don’t happen to know anythin’ about that, I suppose?”
Pretending to think over his question, I eventually shake my head. “I can’t say I do.”
He knows I’m lying, but with no evidence, he’s got nothing.
The peeler won’t say what happened because he has two witnesses. If it were only me, he’d have no problem ratting me out, but my response to Babydoll has him guessing she’ll tell Donovan the truth.
“Don’tcha be going anywhere,” Donovan warns, gesturing to his men that it’s time to tear the place apart.
They start in the bedroom, and it’s wild craic knowing they’re tearing up Fiona’s love nest.
“Yer joking me? Ya think this is funny?” Connor says in a low voice when he notices me smiling.
Taking a drag of my feg, before calmly blowing it out, I reply, “Slap it up ye.”
Connor advances forward, shoving Uncle Sean aside as he tries to stop him, and slaps my cheek. He doesn’t want any blood spilled when the peelers are here, that’s why he didn’t punch me. But I don’t care who’s here.
Without hesitation, I punch him square in the jaw.
His head snaps back with a crack, and when I see I’ve busted open his lip, I inhale, overjoyed.
Two birds, one stone.
“I’m going to check on the twins,” I say, butting out the feg in one of Fiona’s expensive bars of soap.
He doesn’t argue. I’ve won this war—for now.
With blood coating my knuckles, I walk past the peelers, daring them to stop me. They don’t.
The moment I’m out in the hallway, I unfasten my tie and wipe it over my knuckles, soaking up all the blood. Once I’ve got it all, I place it into my pocket, alongside the comb.
I have everything I need. Saliva. Hair. Blood.
Looks like tonight wasn’t a waste, after all.