Page 53 of Resurrection

Truth is, I enjoy having men want me, especially if they aren’t tied to the company. Someday men won’t gaze at me with the glint of interest in their eye. I’ll miss their attention which is why I fight the signs of aging with everything money buys.

“I know what you were doing last night,” Jay says. “Don’t try to tell me he’d be okay with your little exchange.”

My cheeks light on fire, but I am not discussing what happened between me and Finn with Jay. “Why were you in such a hurry to get out of there?”

“You won’t like my news.”

“I love when you start that way.” I point at him as I loop my purse higher onto my shoulder. “And by love, I mean the opposite.”

We trample up the stairs to the exit door.

“What was the frantic texting in there? I thought maybe your wife was telling you to get your ass home.”

“Nah, sometimes she’s happier when I’m gone.”

“I doubt that.” But I’ve never been married, so perhaps that’s their truth. “Anyway—hit me with it.” I make a winding motion with my hand.

“When I started making inquiries into Valeriya, a couple people went squirrely on me. Evasive. Giving me bullshit I realized wasn’t accurate. I’ve been digging.”

I frown as he opens the heavy exit door and glances outside. “Okay.”

“You heard of the PLA?”

I follow him out. We’re in an alley on our way to the car. I search my mind for the acronym. “Irish?”

“Yeah.”

My head bobs in acknowledgement as I remember. “They contacted me… months ago… years ago? I can’t recall an exact date. They’re the IRA wannabes, right? Approached our European connection here to do something under the table. I didn’t think the risk was worth the reward.”

He scans the alley as we walk. I slide my hand into my purse in case I need to draw my gun. Confined spaces aren’t ideal if we end up under attack.

“Valeriya was here to take a meeting with them.” He stops where the alley widens into the street beside our rental and opens the passenger door.

I hold onto the doorframe and stare at the narrow passage, lost in thought. “Selling off things from the warehouse?”

“Could be. Don’t know. Could she have been hoping for protection from you and Finn? It’s strange though. Why Ireland? Why them?”

Finn’s name and Ireland in the same breath takes me to the night before. I swallow as my senses are flooded with memories. He’ll be furious with me. When I return to Russia, I’ll make him understand why he couldn’t come.

“Can you get me a meeting?” I say.

“I’ve been trying. They’re closed up tighter than a frog’s asshole.”

“That watertight, huh?”

Jay grins at me as I get into the car. “So far. But frogs have to shit sometime.”

When he slides in beside me, I glance out the window. There’s something comforting in Ireland—like coming home, though I’ve never lived here, even though I almost died here.

“Let’s go for a drive. I assume you’ve researched the areas they frequent?” I ask.

“You’re going to try a bump?”

“Why not? It’s low-risk. I feel like a drink.” God knows I need one. “We’ll find a bar.”

“You got it, boss.” He starts the car, and we navigate toward the best area of Belfast to hunt the PLA.

We drive for a while before Jay receives a strong enough lead to pick a spot. Similar to other Irish bars within a two-block radius, except there’s an odd flag posted on the doorway as we enter. Not a combination I’ve seen before—vertical lines of orange and brown with a huge yellow star laid over top. Jay enters first and leads us to a booth in the middle of the dimly lit bar. The place probably hasn’t had a remodel since the 1800s. There’s wood everywhere, and the floor is sticky with stale beer. Our table number is etched into the wooden surface.

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