Page 40 of Líadan's Code

“God, I remember what you did with the detachable shower once. I learned exactly how good our water pressure and water heater are,” Líadan complains. “Hours, Jordan. He refused to let me come.”

“I’m sure you did something to deserve that, brat,” I say as Brendan squeezes my cock before releasing me.

“Don’t gang up on me,” she pouts as I chuckle and walk to my room.

Dinner sounds really good right about now.

Chapter Nine

Jordan

Seán O’Brien is one of the most pompous assholes that I’ve ever met. He just sent me an email demanding I go see him. I wasn’t aware I even had an email address on this computer, but I received a notification a few minutes ago, and I’ve been fuming at the audacity ever since.

Mr. Miles,

I need you to come to the Irish Flower tonight at eight. There’s some work I need you to do for me, and I need you in my presence. While our current arrangement has been working well, tonight is different.

Please bring your equipment with you, I’ll have a taxi called for you to pick you up in front of Líadan’s apartment. I don’t want to poke the Banshee unless absolutely necessary.

Seán O’Brien

I’ve done everything that he’s wanted me to do the past three days. I have a tablet for video calls with him, so this is a power play. I fucking hate those. Most of my bruises have begun to fade, though my black eye and the bruises from the electrical prod are taking longer to heal.

Blowing out a breath, I see that I have an hour before I have to leave. Líadan and I are slowly getting to a better place. She always looks as if the weight of the world is on her shoulders, and in many ways it is. Stretching, I get up from the desk I’ve been working from in the room.

Padding over to the door, I open it to find Brendan on the other side of it.

“Yeah?” I ask, brows raised.

“I was going to see if you wanted to eat anything,” he says. For a serial killer, he’s an excellent host.

“No, thank you. I don’t think I could eat anything right now. I’m going to get a cup of coffee before I have to go out for Seán,” I say, easing around him.

I’m wearing comfortable clothing because working for hours at a computer calls for it. I’ve also started running on the treadmill Brendan and Líadan have set up in their extra room. They converted it into a gym for the days when the weather doesn’t allow them to go out.

My body starts to ache if I’m in the same place for too long, and the last thing I need is to fuck up my back.

“Wait, you’re doing what?” he asks, following me as I walk.

“Seán emailed me to demand I go by taxi to the Irish Flower. He said there’s work he needs me to do in front of him. It sounds like bullshit and he’s trying to jerk me around,” I grunt, jogging down the stairs.

“That sounds like him, but he’s been trying to keep you hidden, and the Irish Flower is one of his busier clubs. Granted it’s not the sex club… it’s worse actually,” Brendan says with a wince.

“What am I missing?” I ask, turning when I hit the landing to go to the kitchen.

“The Irish Flower is where Seán makes deals, signs contracts with people over drinks, and the family finds new people to pull into sex work. It’s a drink here, a drugging there before they’re taken into an unmarked van and disappear,” Brendan explains.

“It’s a popular place for people to go to, so it’s a hunting ground to find people who won’t be missed.”

“Holy shit!” I exclaim. “I knew these places existed, but I didn’t think it’d be so fucking organized. I think sex trafficking and imagine someone kidnapped from the mall or something.”

“Yes, that happens too,” he says with a nod. “I get a little feral when Lía is out and doesn’t check in. I know what happens in this goddamn town, and while she can take care of herself, some low level skin trader is simply going to see a beautiful woman having a picnic alone in the park.”

“Are we still talking about that?” Líadan asks as we step into the kitchen. She’s surrounded by baking supplies, and appears to be assembling it into a pan. “I knew you were in meetings, and I got caught up in my day. I sent you a boob picture to make it up to you.”

“You did, and I had a raging hard-on during my meeting,” Brendan says with a mischievous grin. “What are you doing?”

“I’m making an apple cake,” she says. “Nothing else sounds appealing, so I’m going with it.”

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