Together, we do our part to straighten up the holding cell we’ve been using. The process mainly consists of removing any of our personal items. After Keegan makes a call, cleaners will come in and do the rest, taking the body and any incriminating evidence with them.
I dig out my phone, giving our contact the go-ahead he was waiting for. Honestly, there’s a possibility that, if Des was honest, we would have let Dessy Junior go, but by Des keeping his secrets, he effectively sealed his son's fate too.
“I’ll let you know how I’m doing,” the man on the other end of the phone says.
“Much appreciated.”
I hang up, knowing I’ve sealed Dessy Junior’s fate. It is what it is.
Checking the time again, Keegan and I walk to our cars. Each step we take closer, I can feel his tension as if it were my own.
Blowing a breath out, I turn to face him. “I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll be right behind you.”
“There’s no need, Keegan.”
“Well, even without the need, it’s still being done.”
We’ve already had this discussion, and neither of us have budged an inch. Admittedly, it’s always been like this, since the moment my da pointed at him and told him to watch me, orelse. Keegan’s been my Enforcer and my backup. I trust him with everything I am, although he drives me fucking nuts sometimes with how rigid and inflexible he is.
“Stay back, then, and don’t let her see you.”
All the emotion drains from his face, and his green eyes frost over. Me telling him how to do his job is pretty offensive, but it’s more to do with Tally than anything else. It wouldn’t be great if I showed up for our date and Keegan was with me. That’s not sending the message of us giving her space. Admittedly, me picking her up and driving her home isn’t my definition of a date, but that’s all she’s wanting at the moment.
“You’re a simp for her,” he says, the green of his eyes filling with challenge.
“No more than you are.”
He shrugs, and the both of us snicker at the fact she does, in fact, hold a lot of power over us. Case in point, we all instantly agreed with her offer to go on dates with us as a way to get to know each other better. No shit, we must have looked like undignified dogs fighting over a picked bone the way we argued who’d go first.
I should take offense to her demands and insist she give me the respect my father’s name brings, but Tally has never seemed impressed by my name or the “fame” associated with it. The way she’s so blind to both those things only highlights our compatibility in my mind. Now I just have to get her to accept all this fighting is unnecessary. She’s fucking perfect, and ours.
Chapter Thirty-Three
TALLY
Despite the O’Connors burning down The Shamrock, it’s business as usual. I didn’t lose my job. None of the staff did. We just got transferred over to O’Malley’s, and no one talked directly about what happened or how the fire started.
The morning after the fire, Johnny offered to show me where O’Malley’s was. Though I could have asked the O’Connors for directions, instead I messaged Walsh. It was an important exercise, solidifying my place as being loyal to Walsh. I also did it to see if there was any gossip about the O’Connors because he’s big into knowing everyone’s business. Nothing was said, which should have made me less anxious, but it made me more wary.
Walking into O’Malley’s was a trip. There were no new faces, just everyone from The Shamrock, including our regulars already sitting in their spots. It was odd, but I’ve seen stranger.
Certainly, the most noteworthy, and what caused the biggest noise, was Des Kelly. He was missing and had been since before the fire, by all accounts, but that’s where things got murky.There’s lots of speculation that he’s in one of the O’Connor’s cells being interrogated, which feeds the rising vitriol and vocal malign. My husbands, it seems, don't have a lot of supporters around here, even though the Kellys have been a part of the O’Connors power base for a long time. It’s a common theme that things are about to change, which is why I wear a wire every day now.
And I’m not being paranoid, noticing some conversations come to a stop when I’m near, while others are said like the words have been recited. My cover hasn’t been blown, nor my connection to Pack O’Connor yet but I’m being watched and fed crumbs as a test. The whole “keep your friends close and your enemies closer” seems to fit.
It seems, though, along the way, I’ve picked up a new but equally important motivator for being here and working the case. Pack O’Connor. I couldn’t cope if they got hurt because of me.
I have a deep fear they are involved in my case. It’s naive of me to live in hope they’re not a part of the reason Drugs and Organized Crime Bureau sent me here, but I still cling to the idea they’re as innocent as possible.
Pretty much everyone I’ve run into since arriving in Ireland would be facing time after DOCB finished with them. The time and space I insisted on with Pack O’Connor, was so I could do whatever was needed to get some answers, but in a roundabout way I also want to keep them safe from what is coming, a clean out if you will. There’s been too many lives lost, crimes done with no one being held accountable, and that’s a dangerous situation to be in when you’re dealing with organised crime syndicates. The imbalance of power, feeds the perception crime syndicates have that they are a law unto themselves, leaving the community at large at risk. Which is another reason why I went into the force was to protect those people that needed it most.
When I asked for space I never took into account though, how not being around my scent matches would feel like losing a limb. Phantom pangs catch me off guard, often after one of them has dropped me at home and left me with swollen lips or a deep longing.
By God, they are men of their word. Not once during the past few days have they shown up at O’Malley’s or stepped a foot out of place. I know it’s early days, but it makes it very hard to keep them at arm’s length.
I’ve been spoiled rotten and am fast getting used to the different ways they court me. Rafferty’s a menace. His fingers are inside my pussy every chance he gets, and his gifts involve me squealing his name before he spills secret after secret and whispers about our future. Without a word of a lie, he’s booked us trips overseas as pack, or planned all these ‘experiences’.
