Page 45 of Líadan's Code

“Well that’s a two part answer… One of Seán’s goons grabbed me, so I stabbed him, as I said earlier. I’m pretty sure Jack is dead. The other guy was too rough when he found me following his boss in the back hallway. Who the fuck grabs people in this day and age?” Layla rolls her eyes.

This girl is going to give me more gray hairs. Saints preserve me.

“Was he a freakishly large man with mean blue eyes with an enjoyment of other people's pain?” I ask.

“Called it in one,” she mutters. “Seán?—”

“You’re calling the head of the Irish Mafia by his Christian name? Are you insane, because I’m very sure he’s not your type,” I hiss. My eyes are huge, and I’m pretty sure my blood pressure is insanely elevated again.

I need to get that checked out when I get out of here. And then it hits me… “You stabbed someone? Layla Louise Campbell!”

Layla giggles, shaking her head at me. “I’m not worried about that or the blood debt Mr. O’Brien keeps blathering on about,” she says. Yes, my youngest niece is going to kill me. “Tell me why you’re here? How did this happen?”

Sobering, I think about that story, and how I’m stuck here for a while. I hope she didn’t promise anything crazy, because Seán O’Brien isn’t likely to let me leave anytime soon.

I tell her about how I went to the bar to hack into their computer system while I drank a pint. I guess I’m not the only cocky person in this family. Layla’s jaw drops as I explain how I tripped one of their failsafes in their system, and I found myself yanked into their back room and on my way to Chicago to be tortured.

I leave out Líadan, Brendan, and any mention about where I’m currently staying. Her eyes are already so wide, they may pop out if I tell her any more.

“Why are you still here?” Layla asks. “You have access to a computer, but haven’t contacted anyone?”

She sounds hurt, and I squeeze her hand. “It’s not like that. They’re watching me,” I explain, pointing at the cameras in the room. “I’m money laundering for them. The Irish Mafia recently lost their main guy for this because he double crossed them. They know I won’t do that. There’s other things they have me doing as well, all fairly illegal.”

“Why not?” she whispers. Layla is a smart girl. I know she knows.

“I have a family,” I remind her gently. “I worry about you, though these self defense classes your sister has been teaching you sound as if I may not need to.”

The sounds of Layla’s giggles make me sigh happily. As long as she’s safe, I’ll be fine.

Glancing at the cameras that are above our heads, Layla bites her lip, but I shake my head. “I’m convinced they were too cheap to wire it for sound,” I tell her, keeping my lips angled away from the camera.

Being a quick study, she nods. Staring at me hard, I wait for her to ask the next question. The one that’ll shatter me to have to lie to her to answer.

“You’re not going to be able to come with me, are you?” Layla whispers.

My entire future could change because of my decisions here. Thankfully, she takes a shuddering breath when I shake my head, pressing her lips together to hold back any other questions. She has to know on some level that I won’t be able to answer them.

“Be safe?” she asks as the door is violently unlocked and opened. Seán O’Brien’s face is red, his hands shaking in anger. If he’s not careful, he’ll die of a coronary while I dance on his grave.

“You owe me a blood debt, girlie. How a tiny little chit like you manages to get the drop on Jack-o, I’ll never know,” he growls. Seán is barely keeping it together right now.

Layla stands like royalty, back straight, winking at me before facing a man that I know doesn’t have any trouble ordering others to kill for him.

Oh fuck. Her face is a cold mask as she stares back at him. The only evidence I can see that she’s affected negatively by the man are the goosebumps raised along her skin.

“I don’t know what kind of women you’re used to having around you, Sir, but I take issue with being manhandled. As you saw earlier, I bruise easily,” she tells him, showing off the finger impressions that are quickly darkening.

“You know damn well I have a concert tomorrow.”

The ire slowly bleeds away as he looks at the prints. Scowling, he steps inside the room, slamming the door behind him. “He shouldn’ta done that,” Seán grunts, his brogue riding him hard.

“Did you really have to tear Jack’s skin to shreds? It was impossible to save him. Fucker died on the way to our makeshift clinic that we have at the club.”

As beautiful as I’m sure the club is, because the man knows music and how to entertain people, altercations happen often enough here to need a clinic. Rolling my shoulders, I watch my niece both calm and goad the beast. It’s kind of impressive.

“You ordered him to grab me instead of continuing our lovely conversation. Now, where are my men? You can return them and my knife to me, and then you can see me out,” Layla says. “You’re clearly not keeping me here when you know there are people expecting me to play at a sold out show.”

My niece is a queen playing Seán perfectly. I find myself relaxing, even if she is playing the razor’s edge of a dangerous game.

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