Page 117 of Three Irish Kings
Still fuming, I speed through the gates and park in front of the house, taking the front steps two at a time.
My father may be ailing, but someone will still answer for not giving me the code.
I walk in to my father shouting and glass shattering against the wall. I rush up the stairs only to find his nurse, Maria, coming out of his room, crying with her face in her hands.
I put a hand on her arm. “What happened?”
She shakes her head. “It’s just... it’s a bad day, Liam.”
My heart drops. Even on his worst days, Da is rarely mean to Maria. She has been my father’s home healthcare nurse for the last two years, and she’s become part of the family.
I’ve really got my work cut out for me.
“Take a drive. Clear your head. I’ll stay with him.”
She nods and hurries down the stairs, clearly needing a break.
I watch her go, frowning and trying to gather myself, pushing down the irritation about the code. I’ll deal with that later.
I knock on Da’s bedroom door, not wanting to get hit in the face with a flying piece of furniture.
“What do you want? I told you to leave me alone, Penelope.”
I freeze at the sound of my dead mother’s name.
A bad day, indeed.
I slowly open the door, peeking inside, and he’s sitting up in bed, his arms crossed over his chest like a sullen child.
God, he looks soold, beaten down by his illness, the lines on his face more pronounced, his eyes dull.
“Stacks!” His voice grows cheerful as he looks at me.
For some reason, my father often mistakes me for his childhood best friend. Stacks had been shot in the chest on their first mission together, and my father has never forgiven him.
“Hey, boss,” I mumble, knowing the drill.
“God, you haven’t visited me in a dog’s ear.”
“Aye.” I pause. “You look unwell, you okay?”
He scoffs. “I’m fine, just a cold I can’t seem to shake. Trying to sleep it off. What are you doing here? You need a job?”
I shake my head, clearing my throat as I get closer, sitting next to my father’s bedside in a chair. My heart too heavy in my chest, dragging me down.
I’ve never had the best relationship with him, but seeing him fall so far from who he used to be still hurts.
“I wanted to talk to you about that redheaded gal, Maggie?” I keep my voice low and even, not wanting him to get upset if he doesn’t know what I’m talking about.
Da frowns, his brow furrowing. “Ah, right. Maggie. She’s the one snitching to Cormac, aye?”
“Aye.” My shoulders drop a notch. . “I’ve found her.”
His eyes, blue like mine, light up. “Did you, now? Was she hard to wrangle? Where is she?”
“Dead.”
He huffs out a breath. “She’s not dead. She’s just in hiding. Maggie’s a spitfire, Stacks, you know that.”
