Page 54 of The Thief
We start walking back toward shore, toward the real world where decisions have consequences and emotions are luxuries most of us can't afford.
"What time's the meet?" I ask.
"Eight tomorrow night. Warehouse at the docks. We'll have backup."
"You're coming?" I ask, knowing that he doesn't like to be away from Jessica for too long.
"Wouldn't miss it. I’ve been waiting months for a shot at Trace."
We reach Stephen's car, a black BMW. He pauses with his hand on the door handle.
"Freddie?"
"Yeah?"
"Whatever happens with the girl, whatever you decide... I've got your back. We're brothers, blood or no blood. That doesn't change because you've gone soft over a pretty face."
Simple words, but they carry weight. In a world where loyalty is currency and betrayal is death, having someone you can trust completely is rarer than diamonds.
"Thanks."
"Don't thank me yet. Save it for when this is all over and we're still breathing."
He drives away, leaving me alone on Dublin's waterfront. Alone with my thoughts, my doubts, my growing certainty that I'm in deeper than I meant to be.
Time to see Alastríona. Time to make sure she's safe, that whatever Trace is planning hasn't already started.
Time to figure out if what I feel for her is worth the risk.
I find her in Henry's garden, sitting on a stone bench beside a fountain that's too flashy for Henry, but for some reason fits being in his garden. She's reading something, completely absorbed, unaware that I'm watching from the edge of the rose garden.
She looks peaceful. Younger somehow. It makes me want to protect that peace, makes me want to build walls around it so nothing can touch her.
Dangerous thinking. Protection and possession aren't the same thing, even if they feel like it sometimes.
"Good book?" I ask, approaching across the perfectly manicured lawn.
She looks up, startled. For a moment, something flickers in her eyes. Pleasure, maybe. Warmth. Then the walls go back up, professional distance reasserting itself.
"Poetry," she says. "Found it in Henry's library."
"Any good?"
"Depends if you like sad Irish men writing about lost love."
"Sounds about right for this family."
That gets me almost a smile. Progress.
"Can't sleep?" she asks.
"Early meeting. Thought I'd check on you before I go."
"Check on me how? Make sure I haven't tried to scale the walls?"
"Make sure you're safe."
She sets the book aside and gives me her full attention. "Should I not be?"
