Page 83 of Dublin Brute

I don’t even know his brother, but I know Brendan and how he was raised. The odds of Tag being so fundamentally differentthat Brendan didn’t even realize he might’ve had something to do with their father’s death is crazy to me.

Brendan is a very observant and insightful man.

Another file catches my attention—this one with a woman’s photo clipped to the front. Striking red hair frames a bitter expression. I flip it open next, scanning the contents.

Oh no!This Siobhan Daley woman came to them for protection. She’s feeding them insider information about both families.

‘Full immunity and relocation arranged in exchange for testimony.’

Wow, the stuff she’s saying about the Quinns reads like a vengeful fantasy.

And she doesnotlike Tag.

I pause my snooping, and listen. My father is still deep in his call.

My hands tremble as I pull out my phone and snap photos of the redhead’s statement and file. Turning the pages over, I quickly focus the lens on the next and then the next, until I have it all. Then I capture more of my father’s notes, several police reports, a medical report, and a bunch of other stuff I don’t even register. Eachclickof the camera seems deafening and I soon chicken out.

After closing everything and leaving it the way I found it, I get out of there before I get caught. Hurrying to the front room, I sit on the sofa and try to calm down.

Have I lost my mind? What am I doing? Why, after all these years of minding my own business, would I betray my father’s trust and photograph his private work?

The answer is horrifyingly obvious—I’ve been sucked into Brendan’s orbit.

Guilt and doubt war within me. Could I really betray my father further and tell Brendan what I found? Am I as naïve as he always says? Have I fallen prey to a player?

Everything in my heart and soul says no, but what if I’m wrong?

I’m shaking as badly as I did the night of the shooting.

Closing my eyes, I wonder who’s telling the truth. My father or Brendan. Who should I trust? Who should I stick my neck out for?

I clutch my phone tight to my chest, the evidence of my father’s biased investigation making me ill. But what if it’s not biased? What if he’s right and I’m being played by a member of the Quinn family like Laura was by the McGuires?

The urge to run back upstairs and hide is incredible, but I’m not a shrinking violet anymore. If I want the truth, I have to find it for myself.

I take the stairs carefully, avoiding the steps that let off the loudest creaks of protest, and make it to the spare room without incident. After locking the door, I sink to the floor over the old, cast-iron vent. Da’s voice drifts up from his office below and my stomach turns to lead.

“I don’t care, Jameson. Girls are going missing in Quinn territory and we’re no closer to proving it’s them…Of course, it’s them. Occam’s Razor—the simplest answer is almost always the correct one…Christ, now you sound like my daughter.”

Oh, at least someone is voicing another opinion.

“Then find some. And if you can’t prove it, get creative. There’s enough fuel around them that once a fire starts, something will surface in the resulting explosions.”

What? No.The phone conversation continues, but I can barely hear it over the roaring in my ears. This isn’t my father—the man who taught me right from wrong, who drilled the importance of truth and justice into me since I could walk.

But it is. Jordan Kelly is willing to fabricate proof to take down the Quinns. He’s so determined they’re dangerous, he believes the end justifies the means. My mind races back to all those times he lectured me about black and white, and good and evil.

He always said there were no gray areas with criminals.

But how does him ‘getting creative’ and doing what he thinks is right make him any different from Brendan and his family? They break the rules to keep bad guys at bay, to secure the safety of their people. They use a code to guide them and believe in justice.

I don’t see the difference.

Has my father killed people? Yes.

Has he and his team beaten people for information? Yes.

If he’s willing to break the law to frame the Quinns, what else has he done? What else would he do? What elsewillhe do? The weight of this revelation crushes my chest. I can’t leave—not now.

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