Page 36 of Líadan's Code

My nose wrinkles because I know very well what she means. Before I moved in with her, Seán enjoyed forcing me to participate. Lía doesn’t see the things that are done under duress as cheating on her, and I thank God for it, because Cormac held a gun to my head where no one could see, so I’d do what Seán wanted.

One day very soon, they will regret their actions when the new queen steps into her rightful place.

“I do,” I grunt. “Tell me what I don’t know, baby.”

“The surveillance that Daddy’s new ‘friend’ is doing is a deep dive into everyone’s lives. Skyler can’t do it because he’s related to half the family, and while he’s loyal, asking him to spy on his own parents isn’t likely to go over well,” she says. “Instead, this will ensure everything is done by a neutral party who will dig as far as possible without getting caught. He knows there will be traps in the systems he’ll need to be careful of now.”

“I doubt Jordan is someone who makes the same mistake twice,” I rumble. “Anything else I need to know?”

“Yeah, I think Layla may be involved somehow in this unveiling party,” Lía says, surprising me. “I don’t know how, but Daddy is kind of obsessed with her.”

“She’s the type of woman your father enjoys breaking, Lía,” I say. “Strong-willed, successful, and intelligent.”

“I looked through all the documents your private investigator sent you,” she says. “You forgot to mention how beautiful she is.”

“No one else compares to you, and you have eyes,” I say. “I don’t need to mention it. I’m pulling up now, please don’t stay out too late. You know that isn’t a great area after dark.”

“I have my knives, but there’s no reason to borrow trouble,” she agrees. “I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, beautiful. Please don’t disappear on me again,” I say, hanging up.

Taking a deep breath, I wonder about Seán’s plans. Is he actually planning on handing over his kingdom to an almost twenty-three-year-old woman, or is he appeasing the family?

Even if that’s his angle, they aren’t going to be happy with a woman on the throne. I have a lot of thinking to do about this. It’s hard to figure out the workings of a man who is both crazy and paranoid, though. They always do the opposite of what you think they will.

Jordan

When the front door opens to the townhouse, I stiffen. I’ve been alone all day here, working on all kinds of shit for Seán. The money laundering is easy, simply moving money digitally, to ensure its squeaky clean by the end of its journey before moving it to an overseas account. I haven’t dared to check anything else on this computer, because the first thing I did was inspect the inner hardware. It’s riddled with spyware, so I’m sticking to the work that’s being demanded of me.

Standing from the desk in the corner of the room, I glance at the time. It’s almost seven at night, and this is the first time the door has opened since they both left. Yes, I’m clocking who leaves and enters, because as nice as the townhouse is, it’s still a prison.

And I’ve managed to upset my warden.

Blowing out a breath, I walk slowly to the door, waiting to see who it is. There are light footsteps and mutters that tell me it’s Líadan.

What does she do all day? Is she out being her father’s minion?

The thought is uncharitable, but I know nothing about her life, except that she wears a mask to kill people her father tells her to. I don’t know what to do with that information. Did her father purposely turn her into this monster?

The inner monologue follows me as I crack open the door. As far as wardens go, Brendan and Líadan haven’t been too bad. They had clothes delivered to my door and left prepared food in the fridge. Honestly, my life could be a lot worse, I just can’t stop the clawing anxiety as I worry about Layla.

I don’t want her coming to Chicago, because it’ll put her in Seán’s path. These people deal in misery and suffering, that much I know from spying on them all. Sex trafficking, sex clubs, and places where they train the men and women they kidnap to be perfect little slaves.

Yeah, this is the last place I want her to come.

The problem is that I have no control over if Layla comes here. Seán is moving us around like little puppets for his pleasure and plans.

Líadan walks down the hallway with her hair loose in curls down her back. Her knee-high combat boots are still on her feet, her long-sleeved dress is paired with tights, and she’s thrown off the coat that I suspect her to have inevitably worn.

Just because the sun was shining, doesn’t mean it’s not still cold. In fact, the wind is beginning to wail outside, which means she just barely missed the incoming weather.

Fuck, watch it snow tomorrow. I hate Chicago in February, it can’t seem to make up its mind, much like Seán O’Brien.

“Hey,” I say, watching as her feet stutter to a stop. She was in her own world, completely ignoring me. “Can we talk for a second?”

Her forest-green eyes fly up to meet my gaze, and she blinks at me.

“No,” she says, opening the door to her bedroom and shutting it behind her.

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