Page 40 of Dublin Beast

I scrub a rough hand over my face and wince at the massive headache taking root. “Well, we wore masks, so the Masons will have a fairly good idea it was us, but won’t have any proof.”

“And the Watsons?”

“Och, meddling in Mason business was a hard line we crossed. Logan couldn’t back us on it, even though he didn’t seem totally against us doing it.”

“And where does that leave us?”

“With his permission, we made it easier for him to deny any responsibility. I roughed him up enough to make it look good and tied him to his bed. The maid will find him in the morning, and he’ll play his part.”

“His people will see through that.”

“Aye, they will. Still, it gives us time to get relocated outside the blast zone.”

The line muffles as he covers the speaker of his phone and says something. “All right. Where are you now?”

“Harper’s research on Sentinel pinged shortly after she left for the food. It turned up a farmhouse in Yorkshire that, according to the utility companies, came into use at the same time that Siobhan’s trail was lost in Liverpool. The usage it’s clocking is weird—like way too much for a property of that sort. It could be her.”

“Or it could be someone totally unrelated, and she might be in Liverpool and now inaccessible because you lost sight of the aim and blew up our fucking chance. You went soft on a girl, and risked the life and livelihood of your fucking family.”

“Fuck you, Tag. I dream about wrapping my fingers around Siobhan’s throat and squeezing until her eyes burst from her fucking head. I haven’t lost sight of a damned thing. I’ve done nothing but work toward finding her and ending her before she can testify.”

“And playing the hero for a Canadian girl, who, by your own admission, was angling to get herself kidnapped in the first place? What the fuck was that?”

The pounding behind my eyes is starting to affect my vision. “Aye, well, she’s got more fire than she has experience with made men.”

Someone says something to Tag from the background and then Tag sighs. “Aye, all right, Finny. I’ll be right there.”

The security beep at the hotel door has me turning as Kieran comes in with a couple of bags of food. He lifts his chin at me talking on the phone, but is smart enough to keep quiet.

Hell, if I’d had any choice, I wouldn’t have called Tag to tell him any of this.

“Pull your shit together, little brother. Find the bitch. End her. And then get your arses home before you make enemies out of every crime family in Britain, yeah?”

“That’s the plan.”

“And here’s hoping you don’t fuck us over any more than you have already.”

I roll my eyes and regret it when a spearing pain explodes in my skull. “Fuck you, too.”

“Aye, I reckon you’ve done that rather spectacularly.”

The line goes dead and the sudden silence echoes like a rush in my ears.

“How bad is it?”

I shrug and toss my phone onto the table of our suite. “Not as bad as it could’ve been. What did you bring us?”

Kieran hands me the bag of food and I open it up, struck by the rich scents of Indian food. My stomach rumbles in appreciation. “Well done. Tell me this place is close. This smells delicious.”

“Right on the corner. I got biriyani, chicken vindaloo, tandoori, masala, and a fuck ton of naan. I’m so hungry I could eat it all myself.”

“Good luck getting my half. I’ve killed tonight for less.”

Kieran chuckles and the two of us settle in to fill our bellies. Despite him being a talker, the nice thing about Kieran is he also knows when to stop talking and let the world fall silent.

This is one of those times.

While I devour two heaping plates full of food, I try to sort out our situation. The cooperation between the Watsons and the Quinns is blown to hell. The Masons will likely take a day or two to regroup and then come gunning for us. And we still aren’t sure if we’re even in the right place.

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