Page 66 of Dublin's Danger Dancer

“I took a trip to Spain and Morocco.” I say.

“You did what?” he exclaims.

“Ferg, I found out that the Spanish authorities are complicit in drug smuggling across the Strait of Gibraltar, a man who calls himself admiral. I can identify him.”

“Put aside the fact you could have damaged Spanish and Irish political relations for the next fifty years. Everything you collect, your eyewitness testimony, it’s inadmissible.”

“But the intelligence, we can use that?

“Can you make a sketch of this guy?”

“Yes,” I say.

“But it still doesn’t get you off the hook. If you go rogue, it’s my neck on the line. I need an honest answer: Have you fallen in love with O’Shaughnessy?”

“How could I fall in love with a man who murdered my sister? I want more than anything to put him behind bars, trust me.” Panic squeezes my heart as the words hurtle out.

“Tell me one thing and don’t lie to me. Have you had sex with him?”

“No,” I say, looking him straight in the eye, willing every muscle in my face to stay still.

“That’s one good thing,” he says, “Because there’s more bad news. Julia McDonald knows you're undercover.”

“How?” I ask.

“She’s suspected for a while. She made some calls to the MET and no one in London had ever heard or worked with you. I suspect Connor Lafferty confirmed it to her.”

“What does this mean?”

“Nothing for you, but she’s using it as leverage to get me to share information with her.”

“What type of information?”

“The type that will see her name above the superintendent plaque.”

My phone lights up again.

“Seems like he is eager to see you. Answer it, but Ciara I want hourly feckin updates on everything you’re getting.”

I stare down at his name on my phone, unaware my breath has halted.

Chapter Eighteen

Liam arrived at my apartment with chicken soup and coconut water. He closes in on me at the door. His shoulders heave over my body, making me feel tiny next to him.

“I was worried about you.” He growls into my ear. “Why didn’t you pick up your phone?”

“I’ve been sleeping,” I say rubbing my eyes. “I was sick, remember?”

He brings his hand to my face and slides it down my neck and up to my ears. “You look better today. The chicken soup is hot. You should eat it right away.” He places a tender kiss on the tip of my nose and paces to my kitchen to retrieve a spoon.

“I should get some rest. I’ve got work tonight.” I say.

Liam stepped back. “You’re going to work after last night?”

“Just because we had sex, Liam, doesn’t mean you own me.”

“Why do you need the money so much?”

---