Page 112 of Mob Bride

“Transfer him to my office.”

“Uh, Sir, he said you should take it in here on speaker.”

I think that color is called puce. It’s the one Phil’s face turns when he reaches across the table to the phone in the center.

“Director Spenser, this is Spec?—”

“I know who you are. If you aren’t charging the O’Rourkes with anything, let them go.”

“But—”

“Hammond.” Spenser sounds like he’s reprimanding a naughty schoolboy.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Where is Agent Pritchard?”

“She’s on her way to Central Booking.”

“Good. Keep her there for the full forty-eight hours.”

You could hear a pin drop.

Everything’s in suspended animation as I turn to look at Dillan, who turns to look at me. We both turn to look at Sean and Seamus. Dillan spins his chair, so he can pin me in place if he has to. The temptation to go over the table and strangle Phil is nearly palpable. I want to find out where Director Spenser is right nowand bash his brains in. I want to do a lot of things, but all I can do is sit there.

Dillan’s whispered comment only makes me angrier. “Fuair Mérgrég tríd. Beidh sí mar sin.”

Telling me his wife got through it, and so will Carrie does nothing to calm me.

It was the ATF who tried to use Mair against Dillan. He was practically a rampaging bull while trying to get her out of there. Fortunately for us—not so fortunate for them—we had three women connected to our family in lock up that night. They protected Mair, but I don’t know that Carrie’ll be so lucky.

“Cuirfear croitheadh uirthi nuair a fhaigheann aon duine amach gur gníomhaire feidearálach í.” She'll get shanked the moment anyone finds out she’s a federal agent.

She might not be a police officer, but she’s still law enforcement. She’ll be a target the moment she walks through the door. Spenser knows that.

“What do you want?” I’ll sell just about anything I have to get Carrie out. Anybody need a kidney?

“Mr. O’Rourke, make a full confession of all your crimes, and Agent Pritchard won’t step foot in Central Booking.”

Dillan’s leg nudges mine. He knows I’ll spew every lie I can come up with—I’ll confess to murdering JFK and dumping Jimmy Hoffa’s body—if it’ll get Carrie out. But no one in my family thinks I’ll sell them out. They know I’ll lie, and that worries them even more.

“I’ll make that confession when I see Ms. Pritchard leave this building with her attorney and get into his car. I’ll make that confession when you bring me a notarized agreement that this arrangement is binding.”

“Tick tock, Mr. O’Rourke. By the time I send something down that’s notarized, she’ll be in an orange jumpsuit.”

“I suggest you don’t drag your feet then.”

My tone’s so menacing the remaining agents in the room shift and reach for their weapons. I shoot them scathing glances.

“You don’t issue orders, Mr. O’Rourke. It’s the confession, or Ms. Pritchard spends the next two days in jail. I’m certain she’ll feel chatty before then.”

He thinks Carrie will roll on me. I don’t. I think she’ll die before that happens. And that’s what terrifies me.

“Agent Hammond!”

We all turn to a woman who rushes into the conference room. She glances around before she keeps her voice down. It’s not enough to keep me from hearing.

“The Nowakowski brothers are dead. Their plane crashed just before they were to reach Newark. It’s ash and debris in the ocean.”

---