I sigh, then clench my jaw.
The man was in the Irish Mob, which means this case just got a whole lot more complicated.
CHAPTER 2
AOIFE
What was he doing here? Finn ran out last night on an errand for Lizzy, and he’s slow, but not that slow. When she’d reported he hadn’t been back last night or this morning, I went about calling him. He didn’t answer. Finn always answers.
Finn’s been with the mob for over twenty years. Started as a young novice wanting to prove himself to my father and grew into one of the most loyal mob men you’ll ever meet. I worried when my father and Summer decided to travel around Europe for a few years that he’d retire—perhaps settle down, get married, and have those adorable Irish babies he’s always talked about. Pretty sure Finn was the most vocal about my parents choosing not to have more kids. But when my father told him that the legacy was mine to claim, he stayed and devoted himself to serving the O’Donnell lineage for years to come. Until …God, Finn.
I shrug off the detective’s arm guiding me away from the body and … his head, and I look behind me. Who killed him? Because hell, when I find out, their ass is mine. And I’ll repay every favor they bestowed on him in his death. I won’t wallow in grief, but Iwillcount their days.
The other detective hangs in the background, his black hair tousled in uneven directions across his head. Heavy bags line under his gray eyes as he stares off in the distance across the trail. He looks lost in thought, but when he senses me staring, his gaze snaps to mine, and his jaw hardens as his hand pats his coat pocket. Both detectives wear suits, badges hung low at their hips, but while the one ushering me back buzzes with energy, the stoic bear of a man behind him looks worn down.
“I want answers.” I turn to the detective holding me.
He presses both lips together, nodding. “Up here, please, Miss O’Donnell.”
“It’s Aoife.”
He smiles, exposing two crooked bottom teeth. “This way, Aoife. We’ll take your statement by the vehicles.”
I follow him, looking behind me once more to see the ME team zipping up a black body bag. More tears drip down my cheeks, their warmth tingling on my windblown cheeks. The other detective trudges up the bank toward us, and by the time we reach the cluster of police cars and unmarked sedan, I turn to watch him.
Asshole is moving too slow.
I cross my arms, angry and murderous.Poor choice of words, Aoife, I imagine Summer saying. Though she’d be equally infuriated by Finn’s death—they shared a bond like brother and sister. How am I supposed to tell her this? Or my father? They’ll come home immediately, and I have no answers for them yet. He’ll want them. He didn’t leave me in charge to lose mob members, to lose family. Shit.
I sort it out in my mind. I’ll wait until I have a clear direction, or answers. Plus, I’m the leader of the mob. He gave it to me, and it’s been years. I can make this call, right? My choice, my terms.
He’ll know. As soon as he and Summer call for our weekly family chat, he’ll know.
If I keep my voice steady, if I distract him—I huff out a breath, uncrossing my arms—the doubt creeps in. Believing I could speak to my father, who knows me better than anyone, and get away without telling him about Finn’s death is a fool’s errand.Wait—do they say that anymore? Whatever.
The detective next to me places a hand on my back and rubs in slow, steady circles.
“Careful, Reed, she may cut off your fingers for touching her. Heard her father did that once.” The dark-haired detective saunters up, like he’s annoyed I exist. His eyes move to his partner’s hand on my back. I step away and give him a look.
“Why stop at the fingers? I’d take the whole hand.” I wink.
“See, Grayson, she’s harmless.” Reed chuckles, and I glance over as they haul Finn’s body into the county coroner’s truck. I hate that he can laugh at a time like this.
Grayson’s expression doesn’t change from the stoic, damn near bored expression as he looks at me. Finally, he says, “I have some questions for you down at the precinct, Miss O’Donnell. Care to follow me?”
“I don’t go into police stations.”
“Chief usually keeps mob talk at O’Brien’s …” Reed chimes in, but Grayson doesn’t break his stare. He only shrugs.
“I’m the lead on this case. She can either come to the station to give a statement and help sort out a timeline, or I can do it alone.”
No. No, I need to know everything, each step of the way. Finn deserves revenge, and my fatherdefinitelydoesn’t need to think I’m sitting around waiting for answers to fall into my lap.
“I’ll go.” I straighten, rolling my shoulders.Look him in the eye—you’re calling the shots. For Finn, Aoife.
Except when I do look Grayson in the eyes, they’re gray and cold, just like the winter weather smothering us. I shiver. Who spat on his badge today?
“You can follow me,” Reed volunteers.
