Page 133 of Three Irish Kings
Isla.
She headed to a smallish city called Culver, in the state south of us, and I’ve just sent Cillian and Liam to the capital city of the statenorthof us.
It’s a six-hour drive, so I’ve got to get on the road, but I wait thirty minutes before leaving, wanting Cillian to be long gone from my apartment.
It’s not that I don’t trust Cillian and Liam to find her. I do, but at the same time, I need to see her for myself. I need to know why she left, why she didn’t just tell me what was going on.
God help me, I still want her all to myself, even if it means betraying my best friends.
I hop in the shower, hoping it will sober me from all I drank last night.
It does help, and I dress quickly in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, throwing on a hoodie and sunglasses so Isla won’t instantly recognize me if I find her.
Who knows if she’s skipped town by now, but it’s the best I can do. I make a phone call and get into my car, which now has the driver’s side window replaced.
The phone trills in my ear, once, twice, three times.
I jiggle my leg impatiently, and finally the line clicks.
“Who is this?”
“Don’t talk. Just listen. I know you know Isla Quinn. I know you got her into the gala.”
The line goes quiet, and for a second, I’m afraid she’s hung up. But Colleen Connor finally speaks.
“What do you want?”
“I want to know how you know her. Is it her father? Did he work for Cormac?”
“Cormac who?”
“Don't play dumb, Colleen. I know you play the game.” I’m careful about what I say over the line, knowing the line could easily be bugged.
I’ve already done my research on Isla Quinn. Her father was Ryan Quinn, an Irish gangster with no loyalties to anyone buthimself. He passed away a few years ago from prostate cancer, but his whole life he was involved in the scene.
I need to know if Isla is funneling information to Cormac. I need to know if she played us far more than any of us know, but I need to find out before Liam does.
I don’t trust Cillian not to tell him.
“If you know anything about Ryan Quinn, you know he worked for whoever paid him the most. As for Isla, she’s clean. Innocent.”
I scoff. “I doubt that.”
“What’s all this about? She hasn’t answered her phone in weeks?—”
I hang up the phone.
Colleen could very well be lying, but my chest feels a little less tight.
Isla lied to us about who she was, especially those first few weeks, not that I can blame her, but I’m still furious.
It helps that Colleen told me she’s not in the life.
Maybe she’s not funneling information, maybe she is. I’m going to find her either way.
I have to. If I don’t, I’m going to completely lose my mind.
My stomach rumbles from not eating much other than half a slice of cold pizza now and then, but I ignore it, doing the six-hour drive without breaking once.
