Page 38 of Blood in the Water

Now Nolan understood. They’d thought he was going to cut and run, return to his fancy job and his fat paycheck and the silver spoon that had been wedged in his mouth almost since he’d been born.

“I am.”

Christophe’s smile was faint but sincere. “I gathered.”

“So these men, the ones you have on the inside, have been plants for awhile?” Nolan asked.

“Some of them have been in place for the past four months, since we approached you,” Christophe said. “Others have come over as part of our recent recruitment efforts.”

“We have some names we want to run by you and Will,” Luca said. “Potential traitors to Seamus who’ve expressed interest in jumping ship now, before it gets too ugly.”

“You want us to vet them?” Nolan asked.

“Inasmuch as that’s possible,” Christophe said. “Just give us a general idea of their background, what you know of them from the neighborhood, how far back they go with O’Brien.” He looked at Will. “You’ve been with O’Brien the longest. Your input will be important in terms of their work with him.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Will said, “but I’m not exactly best friends with any of those feckers.”

“Your best is all we ask,” Christophe said. “This is a delicate time. We don’t want to bring over anyone in the middle of a war who might compromise us. Most of the new recruits are being sidelined until it’s over.”

Nolan lifted an eyebrow. “Sidelined?”

“Paid to sit on the bench,” Farrell said. “Once we take control, we’ll be able to ease them into our operation under less volatile circumstances. In the meantime, we could use extra eyes and ears on the inside now that you and Will are out. It will be helpful if you can look at the list of potential recruits and tell us who you think is trustworthy.”

“We can do that,” Nolan said. “What else do you need?”

“Details on the Cat and the other targets,” Farrell said. “How they’re laid out, who’s typically stationed where,schedules of activity, when people arrive for the business day or night, how long they stay, etcetera.”

“That’s it?” Will asked.

“You’ve been compromised,” Luca said. “It’s nothing personal. It just worked out that way. We need you to lay low, help us on the internal details while we work the new recruits.”

“We’ve set you up with rooms here on the sixth floor for the duration of the operation. I’m sorry it’s not more pleasant, but it won’t be safe for you to return home now,” Christophe said. “We will need you when it’s time for phase two, if you’re amenable.”

Storming into all the places Seamus hid while his men did his dirty work? Making it clear that nowhere was safe for him anymore, the same way he’d made it clear to Bridget by coming into her home, fucking with her sick brother?

“Hell yes. We’re in.”

20

Bridget sat on the sand near Owen’s wheelchair, her eyes on the horizon. The cloud cover had cleared for their second day on the island, but she’d heard a nor’easter was coming. It was strangely meditative to stare out to sea, waiting for the first signs of it.

A cold gust blew in off the water and she shivered in her coat, turning her eyes to Owen. “You warm enough?”

“Yes,” he managed to say a moment later.

She’d had Maurice bundle him in a thick coat and hat and had tucked a blanket around him for good measure, but she still worried being out in the cold would make him sicker. She’d said as much to her mother after Harold had laid the plywood leading to the beach on Nolan’s orders, but her mom had argued that Owen deserved whatever pleasure he could find. Bridget couldn’t disagree.

“It’s nice here,” she said.

“It’s… peaceful.”

“It is.” She hesitated, watching as another swell rolled onto the beach, then receded back out to sea. There was so much she wanted to say to him, so much she hadn’t beenable to say in the previous months, the previous years, when she’d been consumed with her work at BRIC, with the work she did for Seamus. The latter had been for Owen, but she couldn’t help wondering what good all the money did him when she didn’t have time to watch Shark Week with him or binge ice cream together or take him out for a walk in his chair. It seemed an impossible choice, an impossible balance she hadn’t been very successful at striking. “I’m sorry, Owen.”

“For… what?” He tried to turn his head to look at her, but he had limited motion in his neck now.

She shifted so he wouldn’t have to work so hard to see her. “For everything. For being so busy and neglecting you. For getting us into this mess with Seamus. For dragging you out of the house and onto a helicopter and over the ocean because of my mistakes.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.