Page 48 of Dirty Eoin

My wandering thoughts are interrupted.

“I do.”

He’s not worthy of a lengthier response. I might have to smile and play happy families in front of Fin, but I’m not interested in unnecessary small talk with him. It wasn’t so long ago he was carving into my flesh with a switchblade. I’m having to wear surgical tape as a memento.

Does he think I’ll forget? He’s a fool if he does. I’ll neither forgive nor forget.

I turn around. Fergal is now seated at his desk, which is clad in the same finish as the shelves.

“We have a shooting range on the property. Would you rather we talk there?”

“Here will do just fine.”

Common sense tells me to decline in case my head becomes the unofficial target.

He watches closely as I take a seat on the matching brown tub chair that faces his.

“Next time, then.”

My silence speaks volumes. It’s telling him all he needs to know. That I’m hoping there won’t be a next fucking time. There’s no point saying it aloud, though. We both know there will be. We’re tied for life now. Only death can release us from this unwanted entrapment.

“I won’t apologize for what I did.”

Just like that, he’s confronting the elephant in the room. Or at least one of them. I know he’s talking about what happened at the wedding. At least he’s honest. I’ve got to respect him for that if nothing else. This isn’t the reason he’s brought me in here, though. It’s a smokescreen.

“I’m neither expecting nor asking you to.” I shrug.

“If history repeated, I’d do the same thing.”

“Good to know.”

“I won’t ask why you were there.”

“Closure.” I stare at him, my expression impassive.

A blunt, one-word answer. Also a blatant lie. It’s not like I can tell him the truth. I immediately turn the tables.

“Did you have Ace killed?” I toss it out there like a grenade. It’s fitting given there’s half a dozen stacked in the corner of the room. Fuck him if he doesn’t appreciate my line of questioning.

Time passes.

Tick. Fucking. Tock.

Every silent second convinces me further of their guilt.

“Direct, aren’t you?” he eventually replies.

“I’m a lawyer. It’s in the job description.”

“And are you at work now?” He leans forward, placing his elbows on the desk. Is he trying to intimidate me? Because it won’t work.

“Well, I’m certainly not playing happy families regardless of what you may think.”

“But you are family.”

“Fin is your family. I will never be your family. You made sure of that.”

“Paddy’s situation….”

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