Page 44 of Destroy Me
“What can you tell me about your husband personally?” she asked Siobhan. “What did he do besides work? What did he enjoy?”
Siobhan took a bite of her roast, seeming to consider the question for a moment. “Work was his life, mostly. He talked about work and Fionn. Those were his passions.”
A smile tugged at Fionn’s lips. “And giving you whatever you wanted. That was important to him as well.”
Sadness settled on Siobhan’s face. “It was.”
Maybe that was the key Lyse needed. The garda had found no hint of the money Robert had died for, and she had little doubt that bank records and secret accounts would lead her about as far as they had the initial investigators. Maybe something in Robert’s personal life would tell her where to look.
She fiddled with her fork, thinking. “What did you want back then?”
Siobhan smiled, glancing at her son. “A house in the country. For Robert to retire. Not that that would ever be happening. The man was obsessed with work. But he knew how much I hated the city life.” She forked up a bite of potato. “That’s partly why Fionn and I chose this place when I needed to hide. Somewhere small and quiet and off the beaten path.”
“At least it used to be,” Mack put in. “North Quigley has grown quite a lot since then.”
And growth usually meant the criminal element expanded as well. Maybe that was how Ferrina had finally tracked Siobhan down. Of course, the fact that they’d thought he was dead hadn’t hurt. When you weren’t hiding, finding you became much easier.
“What about you, Fionn?” Lyse asked. “What were you doing back then?”
“I went straight from university to the garda,” he said quietly. “I’d been in almost three years when everything…”
Siobhan patted his hand where it lay, fisted, on the table, then wrapped her fingers around his. “He was so proud the day you graduated from training. Second only to the day you were born, I think.”
“Of course he was,” Mack said, his voice gruff with emotion. Lyse glanced at him, caught the intensity in his eyes as he stared at mother and son. “He had a family to be proud of.”
And he threw it all away, for money. Lyse shook her head. Robert had left a legacy that tore his family apart for a decade. Now it was up to her to make them safe again. Staring at Siobhan and Fionn, finally together, she vowed she’d make it happen, no matter what it took.
Chapter Twenty
Fionn was deep in purgatory—and hell, weird as it might seem.
Purgatory because they’d made little progress on either Ferrina’s location or finding the money Robert had left behind. Not for lack of trying. He and Mack worked tirelessly on the issue, Mack during the day and Fionn at night, while Deacon and King ran backup and kept watch on the property. On the watchers they knew were out there, even if they couldn’t see them. Lyse spent every night scanning files, asking questions, chasing rabbits.
And that’s where the hell came in. Because he was next to her every night, all night. Chairs side by side. Her scent filled his lungs through the long hours; her warmth tempted him. During the day when they slept, it was together, curled around each other—with four knowing, pacing adults right outside their door. For Lyse’s first time, he wanted more than the kind of rushed coupling he could give her right now, no matter how much the wait felt like it was killing him.
It had finally settled in his mind, the fact that they were going to be together, were actually together. Knowing that had changed everything. For years he’d endured a kind of low-level arousal whenever he saw Lyse—and had slaked it on other women, he was ashamed to admit. Not that he’d truly realized that’s what he was doing. After that first taste of her here in Ireland, the arousal had become a fire burning deep and strong, but it had been mixed with an anger he couldn’t seem to block. Now?
Now there was nothing but need. Desire. Every breath he took seemed to stoke it higher, hit him harder.
He needed action—of any kind—before he went completely insane. That moment felt like it was creeping closer all the time.
“What we’re needin’ is more intel,” Mack said, frustration in every smack of the sponge against the dishes he washed.
“From where?” Deacon grabbed a plate from the drain and swiped it with a towel, then handed it off to King to put away. “Even with your access, we’ve hit dead end after dead end.”
“We’re needing a new road then.”
Deacon hmphed. “Sure, but where?”
It was the question they were all struggling with; Deacon had simply asked it first.
“What about an informant? Someone, maybe off the radar, who might have information?” Fionn asked. He’d worked plenty of cases where the local drug dealer or prostitute knew more than law enforcement ever would.
“I can’t ask around like that. The criminals around here”—Mack threw a grin over his shoulder, hands still plunged into the stack of dirty dishes and water—“know me very well.”
“I bet.” Deacon laughed.
“You can’t be asking around,” Fionn agreed. “That doesn’t mean I can’t.”
