Page 130 of GAF Factor

He rubbed his hand over his head, wiping the sweat as he paced. “You don’t understand. I couldn’t stick around.”

“Because the Irish were going to kill you.”

“Not just me.”

“Isla, too.”

His head jerked up and his eyes widened. “I couldn’t let that happen.”

I barked out a laugh as I dragged a chair over to the middle of the room. I was in the mood to get my hands dirty. Unfortunately, it seemed Shawn was in the mood to talk and wasn’t going to allow me the pleasure of beating the truth out of him.

“Shawn, you put a bomb in Isla’s fridge and nearly killed her. Yet, you want me to believe that you don’t want her dead?”

“No, I don’t. I had to do that.”

“Yeah. I think that all the time, too. IRIS, you ever feel that way? You really don’t want to kill someone, but you do it anyway?”

“All the time,” he deadpanned.

Shawn rushed forward, his eyes wide and terrified. “You don’t get it. The money I owed them…they want more.”

“I figured. Mobsters tend to want more when you steal from them. Why’d you do it, anyway? You had to know how stupid that was.”

“I don’t know. It was there and…I was tired of doing all the jobs for them and gettin’ nothin’ out of it.”

I cocked my head to the side, not believing that for a minute. “You had to be getting something.”

He scoffed, walking toward the wall before slamming his fist against it. Hell, I didn’t need to beat the shit out of him. He’d do that to himself. I really fucking hated that I didn’t get to do a damn thing.

He slid down the wall and rested his elbows on spread knees. “Do you have any idea how much I was risking every day? At work, with Isla, it could all be gone like that,” he snapped his fingers. “There were so many times I almost got caught. My career would be over, but they didn’t give a shit. I was their inside man, and that was all that mattered to them. And if I walked, I’d get a bullet in my head, and someone else would replace me. So, I figured I’d take what I was due and run. But it didn’t quite work out like that.”

“You got caught.”

He nodded, chuckling as he dipped his head back and stared up at the ceiling. “Two hundred fifty grand. And they wanted it all back in full. When I told them I didn’t have it, they wanted me to take Isla out and collect the insurance.”

“And that’s when you blew up her fridge.”

His eyes met mine again. “It wasn’t supposed to be that strong. I swear to God, I tried to make it a weak blast. I thought if I made it look like an attempt, I could get them to back off and I could buy some time. I never wanted to kill her.”

“And that’s why the drive-by at her house didn’t hit a single person,” I said.

He nodded, his throat bobbing up and down. He scrubbed a hand over his face as the stress got to him. If he were anyone else, I might actually feel sorry for him. But he wasn’t anyone else. He was Isla’s husband, and she hadn’t done a single fucking thing to deserve this shit from him.

“That still doesn’t explain why you tried to kill her at the club, Shawn.”

His head jerked up as I stood and walked over to him. “I?—”

I grabbed him by the collar and dragged him to his feet as anger washed over me. I remembered how I held her in my arms, praying we made it to the hospital in time. “Your guy almost killed her. Did you know that?”

He shook his head wildly. “That wasn’t me.”

“No? That wasn’t you?”

“I mean—I went to him, but?—”

I slammed my fist into his gut. He keeled over as the air whooshed from his lungs and he coughed harshly. I jerked him back upright, gripping his throat as I slammed him against the wall. “You know, you almost had me going there. Poor Shawn, wrapped up in a game he couldn’t get out of. It’s touching, really. Right up to the point where you tried to kill your wife three times. Did you really think I would just forget that you went after her because you’re a piece of shit who gambled her life for money?”

“It wasn’t?—”

---