Page 16 of Mob Saint

“Fine.”

I’m never this testy.

I need to think about what I say before I call. Not because I fear giving anything away. I don’t want to make an arse of myself. It’s been a long arse time since I’ve called a girl. I feel like the shy seventeen-year-old trying to ask Mercedes Gonzales to the junior prom. I feel awkward all over again.

I’ve been looking at the phone for the last ten minutes. Really, since yesterday afternoon when I got home from the meeting at Dillan’s. I’m hemming and hawing over calling Tiera. I know I have to, but I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to launch into asking her about Gareth because I don’t want her to think that’s all I care about. But what if I chat with her, then ask about Gareth? Will she think I was manipulating her by being nice to warm her up?

I’m not so arrogant as to say I’m so hot I don’t have to go after women; they just flock to me. I’ve been told they like how I play hard to get. I thought only women were supposed to do that. It’s not that at all. I’m just not comfortable striking up conversations with people that don’t have something to do with work or our family businesses. Work—the unsavory shite. That’s what I mean when I think of that word. I can do just about anything if it’s for my family. I’ll talk to whoever whenever. But approaching people, in general, just cause isn’t enjoyable. So, this has me wrapped up in nerves as I stare at my phone.

Buck up, buttercup. Stop being a little bitch.

I unlock my phone, pull up her company’s website, click on the phone number. I listen to the automated message until it says I can search the company directory. She comes up pretty quickly, so I enter the extension.

“Hello, this is Tiernan.”

“Hi, Tiera.”

Shite.

“Seamus?”

“Yeah.” I didn’t catch myself in time to not use my nickname for her.

There’s a lull, and I’m certain she’s waiting for me to speak up and explain why I called. Find your balls, fecker.

“We have some concerns about the delay in processing our claim. I thought you could point me in the right direction.”

“Concerns? What does that mean, Seamus?”

“We expected more progress by now. We can’t begin rebuilding without the funds.”

Did she just snort?

“You can’t start without the funds?” She definitely doesn’t believe me.

“Shane allocated the funds based on the award your company accepted during negotiations with Cormac last week.”

It didn’t go to trial. Once they acquitted Mahon and there were no other suspects, they deemed the fire accidental. The heating and cooling system were still to blame, but the suspicion that someone tampered with it went away. Cormac settled out of court for nine figures. A healthy nine figures.

“I’m aware. But I was called in as an actuary with fire investigation experience.” She pauses, and I can practically hear her teeth grinding. “I’m not the adjustor on that claim.”

“But you work in the fire loss and prevention department. That’s why I hoped you could point me in the right direction.”

The pause is even longer this time. I hear a click like a door closing, then she’s back.

“Seamus, spit it out. Just say you want to know if Gareth is the reason for the delay.”

“If you think that’s why I called, it makes me believe he must be. Otherwise, why would you mention him?”

“Because you dislike him, so you assume he’s out to screw your family.”

“He usually is.”

“I haven’t spoken to him since before the trial ended.”

That’s a surprise.

“I expected him to call you two minutes after you stepped out of the courtroom when the jury announced their verdict.”

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