“King is caught up in shit that had nothing to do with him until it came out who he was related to. O’Malley is a small part of that. But what really did it was finding out who his brother was. Darcy Murphy walked away from two of her kids, and those kids deserve to know why.”
I leaned back in my chair, contemplating whether I could trust Dread with the information I’d found.
“I assume you know who my father was?”
“Of course.”
“When he died, my brother sealed up his office. All his files, all his secrets—they were locked up in there like a mausoleum. Until I moved home and opened it up. I picked the lock to Pandora’s Box and now the skeletons are dancing their way out.”
Dread studied me as I shared with him what I knew about Darcy Murphy and my father’s part in her disappearance. He had a small notebook and wrote down everything I said.
“The man you’ll want to talk to is Brian Buchannon.”
Dread’s head snapped up as he eyed me. “The head of the IRA?”
I nodded. “He’s mine and Sal’s cousin. We know now that it was Sal’s mother and stepfather who helped Darcy get away, but I also found information that Brian helped them.”
Dread slumped back in his seat. “Fuck, I hate flying.”
I chuckled at the look on his face. “You could try to call him, but he’d likely hang up on you the moment you mentioned Darcy’s name.”
“I guess I’m going to fucking Ireland,” he groaned.
The waitress brought our food, and I smiled up at her. Her eyes, however, were locked on Dread. I got it. The man was hard to miss, and hard not to stare at.
Once the server disappeared, I picked at my food. “So, Dread, you mentioned a lawyer named Mischief? Is she part of your club?”
“She is.” He looked up from his plate to meet my eyes. “Have you met her?” he asked cautiously.
I nodded, and he set his fork down and leaned back with a sigh. “Tell me.”
My eyes widened. My intention wasn’t to get her into trouble. But the look on Dread’s face told me he expected an answer.
Three weeks ago...
I’d been back in my father’s house for a week when there was a loud knock on the door. I wasn’t expecting the realtor until tomorrow morning, and I had already spoken to or seen everyone else who was important to me.
I opened the door and found a beautiful woman who looked to be in her early thirties. She was dressed in a sharp suit that had been made especially for her. Having lived in New York for the last thirty years, I knew a custom-designed suit when I saw one.
Her hair was jet black and shiny. Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“Why, yes, Mrs. Kelley, you certainly can.”
She stepped through the door, and I had no choice but to step back or be run over by her. She spun around the room as she looked it over, her eyes settling on me.
“I’d like to apologize. It seems you’ve gotten everything set back to rights.”
“Excuse me?”
“My...associateswere a little heavier handed than they had permission to be. I assure you they have been taken care of and pose no further threat to you and your family.”
“You’re the person who sent those men to break into my house?”
I crossed my arms over my chest, a poor attempt to keep me from throwing a punch directly into the woman’s throat.
“Who the fuck are you?”
