Page 93 of Iris' Lying Eyes
Pulling my lips into a smile, although it’s raw and feels wrong on my face, I say, “You think this is just mafia shit? John was fucking with people who cater to the president. Hell, he’s probably a customer. Who’s going to take down the bad guy now? And Bastion’s mom? That was child’s play.”
“His mom?” Meeting his troubled blue eyes, I nod and look away. Jig turns back to the front, bowing his head, and I stare out the windshield, tapping my hand against my leg.
My mind circles with possibilities before I blurt, “Now would be a good time to ask your daddy for help.”
His head shoots up. “What do you know about my dad?”
“I know he knows more than he’s let on. Paddy McCafferty can’t protect you now.”
He spins so quickly I cringe in my seat. “What the fuck are you saying? My dad wouldn’t participate in that shit.”
Shaking my head, I say, “No one is immune, Jig. That’s what I’ve been trying to say.”
“You’re a fucking liar,” he bellows just as Cyn opens the door on his side.
“What now?” Cyn barks, and I turn to my cuticles, but when Jig looks away, I frown. “Jig, your dad isn’t into the shit. Not like that. But he knows. He knows, and you’re walking into something none of us can get out of.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Cyn growls.
“Once we do this, it can’t be undone. Are you ready?”
Cyn glances at Jig, who refuses to meet his gaze before saying, “Whatever. You always talk in fucking circles.”
Shrugging, I lean back and close my eyes. They’ll understand soon enough. I’ve done my best to warn them.
∞∞∞
It’s dark but for a single light shining through the window when we pull up. This cabin puts John’s to shame. It’s twice the size, built with beautiful old oak and covered in river rock to create a pleasing facade.
We’re all staring at the door when I say into the void, “Last chance.”
“Cut the shit,” Bastion grunts, throwing open the door. Jig blows from the vehicle behind him, and Cyn follows, opening my door with a raised brow.
Wearily, I slide from the seat. The front door swings open before Bastion can slam his meaty fist against it, and on the other side is a petite woman with a pretty smile and wide blue eyes. She glances between the guys before her gaze lands on me, and her brow furrows. “Iris? What are you doing here?”
“Of course,” Bastion sneers, but I ignore him. He doesn’t know the half of it—yet.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly, and she drops the door handle, backing away.
Bastion steps past her, and we follow. I’ve only been here once before, but I’m strangely comforted by the familiarity. It’s an anchor where I feel adrift, but it’s only a temporary solution, and soon, I’ll be floating once more.
Jig pauses beside the cowhide couch, taking in the ridiculous moose head on the far wall. Majestic beams span the ceiling, and our shoes tap the gleaming hardwood floors, buffed to a shine.
As prisons go, this one is pretty fucking luxurious. Of course, only the best for the princess.
“What’s happened?” Lorraine says, and I sigh. “What hasn’t happened?”
Bastion pauses a few feet ahead of us, his eyes wild as he says, “Where is she?”
Lorraine stiffens, curling her hand into a fist. She may be small, but her voice is full of authority when she says, “Why? Why are you here?”
Cyn eyes Bastion before stepping in front of him with his hands before him in the air, all reasonable. “We’re here to help.”
“Help?” Lorraine laughs, touching her throat. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Look,” Jig interjects, summoning his bright I’m-adorable-trust-me smile. “We were sent by her mother. To help.”
Lorraine eyes him strangely, and I wonder if she knows who he is. Of course, she does. Who am I kidding? The woman probably knows fucking everything.