Page 23 of The Devil's Price

"Mother of Christ! Liam, what the hell is wrong with you?" The robe ties are thin and slippery, tangling around my hands, but I manage a hard knot as I back away. "What were you thinking? You have a wife at home."

I'm standing in the middle of my living room staring at him as he holds his cheek. His eyes are dark and harsh, not at all the eyes of the man I've come to call my friend. I can only see his reflection in the television, but he looks more like the monster most people believe Finn is than the detective Garda who puts men like that away.

I'm shaking now, afraid he's going to do something worse than just kiss and grope me. I've never had a reason to be afraid of Liam, though he annoys me a lot. But now, alone in my home knowing Finn won't be magically appearing again, I'm shaking.

"Siobhan, you've been seen with that O'Rourke asshole. If you don't knock it off, it's gonna come back to bite you." His voice comes out as a snarl, a threat even. When he turns to look up at me, I see the clear red fingerprints I've left and I don't even feel guilty.

"So you’ve come to molest me, have you? And you think that will somehow woo me away from seeing Finn to what? You don't own me, Kearney. You're a married man and you have no right coming into my home and doing that. Now get out." I don't know whether he’s going to listen to me or not, but I point at the door and he shakes his head.

He looks at me as if he wants to say something more. There's anger in his eyes now, maybe from being rejected, or maybe something else, but he glares at me and turns toward the door. When he gets there, he turns over his shoulder with the door standing open and says, "People are watching."

When he leaves, I rush to the door and throw every lock and deadbolt, then stand trembling as I think of what to do next. He's right. If people are watching and I'm seen out with Finn, it will ruin my career, but it doesn't have to. I don't have to let this destroy me.

Again my stomach tosses, but I scurry into my bedroom, this time going for my dirty clothes in the hamper. I go for my phone, still in the pocket of my slacks which I tossed there when I started my bath. I pull it out and dial my supervisor's number, and he picks up on the second ring.

"Director of Public Prosecutions, who's this?" Boyd's voice is stern as always, and I lean into his value for the letter of the law.

"Yes, hello, Prosecutor McVeigh, it's DPP Gallagher and I have something to discuss with you." My heart is hammering. I think I may throw up while still on this call, but I manage to swallow the bile and suck in a breath to calm my nerves.

"Yes, hello, Gallagher. How goes the case?" I hear the noise of the train in the background. He's on his commute home, so I've caught him at a decent time. I know his office lines are recorded for evidentiary purposes, but his cell is usually untapped.

"Mr. McVeigh, if I can speak with you frankly." I'm never so forward with him. He's my boss, but this isn't something to mince words about. I'm talking about my entire future in law.

"Yes, of course." The train conductor makes an announcement so loud I fear McVeigh won't hear me, so I wait until he's done saying what stops the train will make before I proceed. It gives me a few seconds to collect my thoughts.

"Sir, I need to make a formal announcement to you that I'm involved with Finn O'Rourke." I pause for a moment and hear only silence. "Sir, are you there?"

"I'm here," he says, sounding stiffer than normal.

"Sir, I had an opportunity so I took it. I'm working undercover. The man is wrapped around my finger and I'm hoping to gain inside knowledge about his family and the way his organization works so we can take him down. I should’ve told you sooner, but I wasn't sure it would pay off. Now I think it will." My words are rushed out, but I speak clearly without stuttering or stumbling over the facts. Just as I finish, the conductor makes another announcement, and McVeigh is forced to wait to respond.

The waiting is torture. It could go either way, but my hope is he will understand because he knows me. It's my one drivingfactor, to find the man responsible for Trevor's death and make him pay, and then take down the underworld systematically by myself. He's known that since I took this job or maybe even longer.

"Well, Siobhan, it's not often our prosecutors get involved in the nitty gritty, but you have a set larger than most of us. If you think you can produce accurate facts and bring forth the truth, then I applaud you. Make sure you keep a diary of your notes. Contact me the minute you have anything, and for Christ's sake, be careful. Those men are monsters. They can do anything. You really don't know."

I breathe a sigh of relief at his words and rush out, "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Oh, and Siobhan, I really mean that. Take care of yourself. This is a scary game you're entering." Boyd's warning is heeded. I'm nodding even though he can't see me.

"Yes, sir. I will. Thank you, sir." I hang up and sit on the edge of my bed.

Liam's threats that someone is watching, that people will find out, they scare me. I don't want to be seen as the prosecutor who may be dirty. I want a reputation beyond reproach. But I also want Finn, and that seems to be tearing me down the middle, along with a nagging fear that continues to grow every time I find myself getting queasy.

For now, my cover is safe. McVeigh believes I'm sleuthing so if Liam blows my cover, I'll have that to fall back on. And if not, at least I have that reassurance. Things just got a whole lot trickier.

16

FINN

"There, hold that," Noah says as he slides the knife into the window frame. My right-hand man is a genius at old buildings like this with the woodwork still intact, just painted shut. It's probably lead paint, stuck the frame to the window for years now and maybe not even locked. Noah's knife tears through the layers as we work behind the bushes next to the courthouse.

"Shh," I breathe, reminding him that we have to be quiet. The courthouse is closed now, the last of the staff having gone only moments ago. The sun is dipping on the horizon, but it's still light enough that anyone who walks past may see us. I know there's security too, patrolling the interior, cameras in every corridor and along the exterior, but here, we're hidden.

"Feck's sake," Noah grunts as the tip of his knife snaps off. I reach into my pocket and pull out my pocket knife and hand it to him, and he nods at me as he folds his shut and takes mine. "Had that since I was a kid," he says absentmindedly as he works. The window is almost busted free.

"Hurry up, will ye?" I glance over my shoulder. No one could really see us unless they focused hard, but it's not altogether inconceivable that they may look. The courthouse is hosting one of the most infamous cases in history right now. I'm surprised they don't have a Garda stationed at each corner watching.

"Got it," he announces, and he folds the knife shut and hands it back. "Just gotta…" He pushes upward on the frame, and the dry squeak and scratch of wood against wood greets my ears. He's done it. We're in.

---