Page 75 of Forged in Rain

I’m shaking from head to toe, but still, I raise my chin because if I’m going to die, I refuse to do it acting like a coward.

His brow quirks, and he says in a gravelly tone, “Your grandfather would be proud.”

Huh?

“I don’t understand,” I whisper.

He waves his hand. “Sit.”

As much as I’d like to refuse, I sit and sneeze when a plume of dust tickles my nose.

“If the old bastard were still breathing, he’d be proud.”

“You knew my grandfather?”

“Yes, he was a close friend.”

What? My family was affiliated? No fucking way.

“I didn’t know him,” I mutter absently.

“Of course not. He died thirty years ago,” he barks.

I press my lips together, but I can’t bite back the terse response. “Excellent. Can we skip memory lane and get down to why I’m here?”

Hate shifts beside me, but I ignore him; sure, I’ll find a glare if I bother to check. But if I’m going to die, what’s the point of being nice?

The old man tips his head with a nasty frown, but I see the twinkle in his eyes. He’s enjoying my spunky attitude. I can’t decide if I should drop it because I don’t particularly want my executioner to be pleased or milk it to see how long I can delay the inevitable.

“Hmm, I like you more than I thought. I’ve got a problem, Miss Flaherty,” he says, shifting in his chair.

“Let me guess. I’m it?” I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest.

Truthfully, it’s weird to be chatting with who I assume to be Paddy McCafferty because he holds my life in his hands, and the relatively normal conversation is surreal considering the circumstances.

He tips his head, and I sigh. “Would it do any good to tell you that I don’t have the money?”

“Not my problem.”

“Not even knowing somebody else has it, and they’re fucking you over?”

His brows slam over his eyes, and he leans forward quicker than a dude his age should be able to. “Language, Miss Flaherty.”

Huffing, I look away into Hate’s wide eyes. Narrowing my own, I let him know just what I think of his fucking betrayal.

“Now, I think we can make a deal, you and I.”

“What?” I whip back around.

He smirks, and I cringe. This old man reeks of money but, more importantly, power, and I’m at his fucking mercy. Story of my life.

“Someone is undermining my business, Miss Flaherty. I can’t have that, now, can I?”

“Um, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He cocks his head to the side. “You mean you didn’t conspire to make your uncle disappear? Hmm?”

It takes everything in me not to glare at Hate once more because I have to assume he’s the snitch behind this one. Did he mention Cue, too? Fucker. He’s lucky I have a conscience.

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