Page 27 of The Celtic Resolution
Saoirse waits until the front door to the house closes, then she slowly walks down the gravel path toward me. “How are you doing?”
“Is it weird that I feel guilty?”
She shakes her head. “No. You were with him in his final moments. I think that leaves an impression on anyone.”
Nodding slowly, I rub at my jaw. “What did you say to her?”
Saoirse glances back at the house with a heavy frown. “What I say to all of them. Mickey was a great man and he gave his life protecting others. I’ll pay for the funeral and we’ll support her family for as long as she needs us to. It won’t make her grief easier but we can take care of the bullshit while she processes.”
“You sound like you’ve done this a lot.”
She looks back at me with a small, sad smile. “Cormac advised against it when I started delivering this kind of news personally. But I always felt that it helped the both of us. These are my people. My guards. It doesn’t matter how they go or whose orders they are following, it’s my responsibility. And I don’t want the families to feel like their loved ones were just a number or cannon fodder. They’re all important.”
Given how often lives are lost in this line of work, I can’t imagine how often Saoirse has delivered such news. I suddenly see her in this new light, absolutely filled with empathy and care for everyone under and around her. Maybe she really, truly can help with my father.
“What?” Saoirse asks as I stare at her for a fraction too long. “Do you think it’s a bad idea too?”
“No.” I shake my head quickly and lean up from the car. “I think it’s admirable.”
“Fuck off.” She laughs, but despite her words, she sounds glad at the comment. “Come on, let’s go.”
“How’s Hank taking things?” I ask as Saoirse drives us. “Were they close?”
“He’s taken it hard because it was his order to breach,” Saoirse explains. “He’s not typically out in the field much these days because he’s Cormac’s personal bodyguard but he’s reliable in a pinch. I just…” She trails off and after ten minutes or so of driving, we pull up into an empty parking spot overlooking the river and park under some trees that sway lightly in the wind.
“What’s wrong?” I shift in my seat to face her, bracing myself for anything from tears to anger.
“I just need a minute.” Her hands remain on the steering wheel and she stares out of the car, gazing out across the river. When she sighs, her cheeks puff and a few strands of auburn hair drift upward. “No one was supposed to die.”
“I know.” The guilt in my chest tightens. “It’s my fault.”
Her head snaps to me. “Huh?”
“If I had planned better or been more prepared when we turned up there, then this wouldn’t have happened. I should have been smarter.”
“We can’t know that.” She doesn’t strike me as one to shift blame so the fact that she doesn’t blame me eases my guilta fraction. “There’s no telling how differently that could have gone. But I do know one thing.”
“What?”
“We’re on the right track. They wouldn’t have been so defensive otherwise.”
“You think?”
“I know.” She sighs again, deeper this time like something old and heavy weighs down on her. “I can’t speak for the Italians but anyone would be a fool to mess with the Irish. Our reputation is pretty…” She clicks her tongue and we sit in silence for a few more minutes.
“Doesn’t make me feel better,” I say finally. “I didn’t know him but I can still feel…” Staring down at my clean hands, one blink and all I see is the constant flow of blood pouring over them. The heat was unlike anything I’d felt before. How can someone so dead still feel so warm?
Suddenly, Saoirse’s hand appears in mine and she lifts my knuckles to her lips. Our eyes meet as she very slowly kisses over my knuckles and lightly squeezes my palm. Another blink and the blood is gone. There’s only my golden skin now lightly stained with pink from her lipstick.
“Better?” Her voice is gentle and her eyes as warm and as earnest as when she was speaking to Mickey’s widow.
“Better,” is all I manage before I’m leaning over the gearstick to kiss her.
12
SAOIRSE
There’s no room for thought when Bruno’s lips press against mine. The adrenaline from the gunfight, coupled with the pain of delivering such terrible news has me seeking out a distraction and once again, Bruno isperfectfor it. His lips lock against mine and we melt into one another much like we did at the motel, but something’s different.
