Page 20 of Iron Blade

“How do you know?” I needed her to give me more. To tell me more.

It only ever took a kernel of truth to get through for the floodgates to open. I just needed a small break. A small crack in the armor to get through.

“Because I know.” She was cryptic, but not mean about it.

“How do you know?” I pried even further.

Come on, Cosima. If we’re friends, you wouldn’t keep Eoghan Green a secret…

“He’s Irish,” Cosima finally said.

I laughed. “I didn’t think you’d be so xenophobic. Your family is from Rome.”

My corner apartment had a fire escape. I had chosen it because it had two ways to exit – the fire escape that faced the street, the other that went into an alleyway. I could also climb to the roof, and I was one leap from getting to the next building. It also offered the best view of the street, giving me a good vantage point for anyone who might approach from below.

“That’s different.” Cosima sighed.

“I think you’re wrong about him.” I locked the door behind me, putting the deadbolt in place, as well as the chain. “He was really polite, except for…”

“For…?” She pried.

Except for that decided impolite kiss.

I was complimenting him in the hopes that she’d give up more information. People often spilled more than they wanted when they were angry – when they felt compelled to disagree.

I touched my lips, where his teeth had scraped my mouth, my tongue darting out to get what remained of him. It had been a good kiss, until I came to my senses.

“Nothing,” I said, knowing that Cosima wouldn’t understand. “He was just really nice, is all.”

“Kira, please, you have to believe me. Eoghan Green and his father are not good people. You need to stay far, far away from them. Promise me.”

I didn’t promise, though.

Instead, I uncorked a bottle of cheap wine in my tiny apartment and told her that I’d see her for coffee the next morning.

I looked at the $9 bottle of wine, wondering what Eoghan would drink in his home. I bet it wasn’t anything less than three figures.

Chapter eight

Get It Handled

Eoghan

“Go home, boyo,” I said to the driver. I brought my phone out, and waved him out of the driver’s seat.

Kieran O’Malley was a young man, of deep Irish roots that had just come back from a stint in the Army.

“Go find yourself a warm place to stay tonight,” I said with a slight chuckle. He was a young man, and I knew what some of my soldiers could get up to at night.

O’Malley smirked, giving me a nod as I ordered him a cab on my phone.

“Thank you, Mr. Green,” he said planting his hands in his pocket, raising his shoulders against the brisk winter air. The boy had an American accent, but put a few pints in him, his Da’s Derry accent would come out loud and proud.

I went into my wallet and pulled out three hundred dollar bills and handed them to him.

“Have yourself a drink, lad,” I said, even though I knew he wasn’t much younger than me.

Everyone just felt younger, when I knew that their life would be in my hands, one day.

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