Page 9 of Retribution

“And last night?”

“Was for a good cause.” I meet his gaze and stifle my smirk. Catching his interest was worth the pain of a pink dress.

“You’re hoping for a deal?” He focuses on Carys. “I’m not sure I’m in the market for one.”

“Finn assured us at the doorhehas a dealer.”

“Wedo,” Lorcan agrees with a grimace. Easing deeper into his chair, he steeples his fingers. “You understand the seriousness of what’s going on in this house?”

“I do.” Her face softens. “You’re not going to war with each other. Finn’s an asshole, but he’s still your brother.”

“There are things you can’t possibly know. People change. Finn’s mother and mine will be rolling in their graves.” The hint of a lilting accent is back which makes me want to lean in, to hear more. Despite what she said, I think the accent might be real.

Carys isn’t a mother, but sometimes, around some people, she gives off a motherly vibe. Like the hip sway, she doesn’t let that side of her come out very often. Her connection to Lorcan and Finn runs much deeper than I realized.

“Can I help?” she asks.

Lorcan’s stares at me before turning to Carys. “Possibly,” he says. “I don’t want an arms deal, at least not yet. I wanted Finn to understand I’m serious—my threats aren’t idle—which is why I invited you here.”

She shifts in her chair. “I used to babysit the two of you when our parents were in meetings. I know how close you and Finn are.”

I try to keep my face blank as I listen to their exchange. Inside, my blood boils. I hate when the information I get from the bureau is wrong. The war on terror snags the best intelligence people, and those of us on the ground in other assignments get the leftovers. How many other details in the files aren’t quite right?

“I’m starting to accept we’re very different,” Lorcan says. “I don’t want to get into it with you, Carys. You’ll end up in the middle.”

“If you don’t need arms from me right now, what’s this meeting about? Are you simply sending a message to Finn? He answered the door.”

Lorcan gives a sly smile. “I knew he would.” He picks up a pen and taps on the desk.

I lean back in my chair waiting for whatever is coming next. Somehow, I need to find a way to ingratiate myself to him, or today is going to be a waste. How do I get back here if he’s not doing business with Carys?

When I look up, he’s gazing at me, his expression serious. “I want you to come work for me.”

Carys sits up straighter in her chair. “You can’t be serious.”

He holds up a hand toward her. “I know what you said last night, and I’ve been thinking about it. All I’ve been doing is thinking about it.”

Her lips pucker in annoyance. “Would you mind waiting outside? I have a feeling this conversation is about to go south.”

“Are you sure?” My brain ticks through how I can make it clear I want to work for Lorcan without raising suspicion. Why would I leave her and her organization? In this business, she’s a great employer, and it’s taken me almost a year to get to a point of trust and mutual respect with her. Very pointedly, I give Lorcan the once-over as though I don’t trust him, hoping my distrust might make Carys keep me in the room.

“I’ll be fine.” She waves a hand while gathering her purse closer to her chest.

I nod and open the door, slipping out into the hall. Propping the door open would be ideal, but he would notice. He can see the door from behind his desk. Outside, Antonio is standing guard.

“Slow day?” I take in his linebacker build. Carys has big men like this. Except for Jay, I have no use for any of them.

“Most of them are.” He shrugs and tucks his phone into his pocket. “You guys finishing up in there.”

“No idea,” I admit as I count doors in my head, trying to set mental reminders about door codes and locations.

“You really do anything Carys wants?”

“Yep.” I suppress a sigh. This line of questioning is familiar. We’re at the point where he asks me questions and doesn’t believe my answers.

“Ever killed someone?”

I avoid looking down at my hands and instead tuck them into the pockets of my black leather jacket. The blood isn’t the stuff I’ve shed. “Of course.”

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