Page 21 of The Thief
"I know."
"It doesn't mean I'm going with you to Dublin."
"I know that too."
But we both know I'm lying. We both know that everything changed the moment he pulled that trigger. The moment he chose my life over some stranger's, no questions asked, and no hesitation.
"Get your things," he says quietly. "Grab whatever you can't live without. We leave in an hour."
"And if I say no?"
"Then I disappear and you deal with Sean's father when he comes looking for answers. Deal with whoever else thinks you're easy prey now once word gets out about tonight."
"You're blackmailing me."
"I'm offering you a choice. Stay and fight this war alone or come with me and let your family help."
Family. The word tastes strange in my mouth. For eighteen years, it's just been me and Dad. My mam was around, but it was always obvious she never wanted children. Now he's gone and there's this whole other world waiting, full of people who might actually give a damn whether I live or die.
It’s a scary thought. Scarier than staying in Belfast and fighting my own battles.
But maybe scary is what I need right now. Maybe safe is just another word for slow death.
"One hour," I say.
Freddie nods. "One hour."
I head for the stairs to my flat, stepping carefully around the blood and broken men. Behind me, Sean's still whimpering about his knees. Freddie's already on his phone, probably calling for cleanup.
Behind me, my old life bleeds out. It’s time to see what the new one looks like.
CHAPTER FIVE
Freddie
She's been silent for over an hour.
She’s now sitting in the passenger seat like a statue, staring out at the Irish countryside rolling past. I haven’t heard a word from her since we left Belfast; just the sound of her breathing and the occasional shift in her seat when the road gets rough.
I can't blame her. Her life just got turned upside down and shaken until everything familiar fell out. Now she's in a car with a man she doesn't trust, heading toward a family she's never met, because the alternative is staying in Belfast and dealing with Sean Jennings’ father.
Not much of a choice, really.
The M1 stretches ahead, empty at this hour. There’s nothing but fields and hedgerows and the occasional truck hauling goods to Dublin. The normal world going about its business while mine gets more complicated by the mile.
I should be focusing on the job. I should be thinking about Henry's reaction when I roll up with his granddaughter; about how to present this whole situation without making it sound like I had to kill people to get her cooperation. But my mind keeps drifting to other things. Darker things.
The way she moved in that alley. Like violence was just another language she spoke fluently. Like her father taught her more than just how to pour pints and avoid wandering hands.
She’s a dangerous girl. More dangerous than Henry knows, probably.
"You can change your mind," I say, breaking the silence. "We can turn around, drop you back in Belfast. Your call."
She doesn't look at me. "And then what?"
"Then you deal with whatever comes next."
"Like Sean's father coming for revenge?"
