Page 105 of Dublin Brute

No one except us.

So, now that we know, we need to figure out what to do about it. The task force is still watching us. Siobhan is in protective custody somewhere. And my happily ever after with Nora hangs in the balance.

At least she quit her job at Legend.

That news smoothed the water with her father—the one and only thing we’ve ever agreed on—and made her return home almost bearable for her. I miss her like crazy, but we talk every day and will figure out how to make this work.

Because like I told her—she’s mine. Us being apart isn’t an option. The first chance I get, I will claim her and then she will never leave my side.

In the meantime, she’s monitoring her father and the task force from the inside. Tag clarified that she’s not to get involved or do anymore snooping, but if she hears anything she feels she can share, we’d appreciate it.

I hate that she’s out there on her own when the McGuires are mucking about in our business. I also can’t shake the feeling that something’s coming, something bad.

So, to keep myself busy, I’ve been working on my car. A lot.

“Oi, there you are. I’ve been searching for you.”

I straighten, set my wrench down on the tool chest, and grab a rag for my hands. “What’s the craic, Finny? You look like you swallowed a lemon.”

My little brother sets his laptop on the top of my tool chest and shows me a prison mug shot. “No craic today, I’m afraid.”

“Who am I looking at?”

“That’s the bloke who targeted Nora on the night of the fundraiser.”

I stop fiddling with the rag and take a long look at the fucker. “Who is he?”

“Terrance McNevin—the man who killed Nora’s mother.”

My heart drops as a wave of confusion hits. “Nora’s mother died in a car accident.”

“That was the public statement. In truth, Jordan Kelly was putting pressure on a British crime firm out of Liverpool and his wife, Melody Jordan, was killed in a targeted mob hit.”

Shit. “A warning to back Nora’s father down?”

“Aye. From what I’ve found, McNevin killed the wife and Jordan was told Nora would be next if he didn’t back off.”

I lean back against my car and run my fingers through my hair. “When did he get out?”

“The Lord Chancellor sentenced him to fifteen years, and he was let out in thirteen for reformed behavior.”

Reformed behavior, my ass.“Fifteen years? Isn’t a minimum sentence like twenty-five or thirty?”

“No weapon was used. If he’d opted for a knife or a gun, then it would’ve been a longer sentence, but he didn’t—he snapped her neck.”

White hot fury builds in my veins. “And now he’s back on the streets?

“Aye, he got sprung six weeks ago.”

My gut tightens at the thought of this prick coming after Nora.

“And there’s more.”

I arch a brow, my kill-meter flipping into the red zone. “What else?”

“With McNiven’s identity in hand, I went back to the night of the shooting outside the Confession Box, on a lark. I thought, what if Petey wasn’t the target? I mean, the killing of the girl in the foreground always bugged me. Ryan said it wasn’t the McGuires, and Pete didn’t have anything damning to report. On top of that, McGuire men are more of an up-close-and-personal kind of killer.”

I swallow, adrenaline pumping in earnest now. “It was him?”

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