I leaned forward, my interest piqued. “And why doesn’t Cillian offer those? I’m assuming he knows about them.”
“Sure, he does, but Cillian can’t make the same kind of money off them that he can by forcing Ballybeg into submission. More money will need to be spent to buy the land and get the permits, all of which means his commission goes up,” Fiona explained.
That didn’t surprise me one bit. I’d seen enough of his smarmy grin to know that Cillian O’Farrell was a jackass of the highest order.
Fiona slid a folder across the table. “Here’s the information on those properties. Brad told me you’ve got the ear of someone in the game, and I suggest you might want to steer them in this direction. It’ll save everyone a headache.”
“And you’ll make a nice commission,” I reminded her.
She grinned. “Everyone has bills to pay, don’t they? Trust me, Ballybeg isn’t worth the fight.”
Maybe to her, it wasn’t, and I knew she didn’t mean it cruelly—it was just business. But to me, Ballybeg was everything. And no way in hell was I going to let Cillian steamroll it.
“Thanks, Fiona.”
I flipped through the files, already knowing I’d need Brad’s team to go through them and pull the key points—the ones I could use to sell this to Big Gil as a better alternative to Ballybeg. “Can you send this over to Brad?”
“Sure. I’ll email this to him right away.” She tapped away at her phone and then set it down. “Done.”
I liked her style.
“Just be careful, Mr. Caldwell. Men like Cillian don’t take kindly to losing.”
“Call me Jax,” I requested. “Cillian is a street thug without the balls to take on a big dog.”
“And are you the big dog?”
“The biggest.”
She laughed, and we talked some more about my plan to save Ballybeg.
“The city council is afraid of scandal,” she assured me. “With the interviews and social media push you’ve planned, they will feel the pinch.”
“How about the protest?” I asked.
She thought about it for a moment. “I think it needs to be more than Ballybeg. Look, there are several villages like Ballybeg in County Clare. Some are ripe for takeovers as rural economies struggle and the young leave for Dublin or Cork. We need to help these communities thrive, not rape their land and throw the villagers out of their homes.” She picked up her phone again and read through a few things. “How about Isend you a list of key people who, like Dee Gallagher, are invested in their communities? If all these villages take a stand together, then not only do we save Ballybeg, but we also prevent other villages from being destroyed by greed.”
“I like how you think, Fiona.”
We discussed the matter further, and Fiona promised to keep in touch.
I liked her.
She was sincere without being smarmy, practical without being greedy, and a good listener.
After the meeting, as I was walking to my car, I saw a jewelry store.
In the window display, I saw an emerald ring; it came as a set with earrings, a necklace, and a bracelet. The green of the precious stones reminded me of Dee’s eyes.
Before I could go inside, I was face-to-face with Cillian and Aoife.
“Well, well.” His grin stretched across his face. “If it isn’t the PGL golden boy himself. Come to Cork for a taste of real civilization?”
I clenched my jaw, forcing a tight smile. “Cillian.” I kept my tone neutral. “What a surprise and not a pleasant one at all to see you here.”
Aoife looked up then, her perfectly arched eyebrows rising.
“Jax Caldwell,” she said sweetly, though her tonedripped with venom. “Still playing the hero in Ballybeg, are you?”
