“You look like you’re in a good mood.” His expression narrows. “Who’d you kill?”
“This time, nobody.” I put some cream in the mug and take a drink. “God, this stuff is horrendous. I love it.”
Finn grunts and leans back. He’s a few years older than me, in good shape, tannish skin and lots of mottled scars under his long sleeves. I see a few peeking out on his wrist. Those damn scars, they kill me every time I catch a glimpse. Makes me think of things I’d rather forget.
“Caroline keeps making fun of me for coming here.”
“Maybe you should listen to that smart wife of yours.”
“Already do. She’s the reason I don’t have a big ass plate of bacon in front of me right now.” He smirks, looking across the room. “Got an update for me?”
“Nothing you’ll like.” I had time on the way over to consider what I wanted to say to Finn. I won’t lie to him—if he asks me anything directly, I’ll tell him the god’s honest truth—but I’ve gotten good at skirting around topics I’d rather not talk about. I’m loyal, but I’m not fucking stupid.
And the topic of Regan is very, very dumb.
I tell him about the car, about finding nothing, about following Kieren this morning. I mention, casually, that my search got out of hand.
Finn groans and looks at the ceiling. “Jesus Liam, can’t you do anything like a normal fucking person?”
“What’s the fun in that?”
“Not every job is a god damn party.”
“Now you’re talking nonsense.”
Finn rubs his forehead, but he’s grinning. The cheeky shit acts like I drive him nuts but we both know that isn’t true. We’ve been working side by side for a while now, and I’ve come to know him better than anyone else in this world.
He’s like me, loyal to the bone, but he’s got his hurts. They run deeper than he’ll ever admit. Even now, after exorcising most of his demons via some violent acts, they still haunt him. Those ugly, nasty memories. I can deeply relate, and maybe that’s why I like him so much. He did what I’ve failed to do all this time.
Forget that though. Drink coffee. Think about the girl in my bed last night.
He drums his fingers and his smile fades away. His shoulders are tense as he asks for a coffee refill and eyes me uncertainly. I wait him out, since sometimes he needs a second to get to what he actually wants to say.
“You know how important Martin Corrigan is to our family right now, correct?” He leans forward, voice softening. “His firm’s been our best source of laundering, and we havea lotof cash to wash.”
“A very good problem to have.”
“Tell that to the accountants. The more physical paper money we have, the bigger the target on our backs. Cops, rivals, thieves, traitors, you name it. Paper money is a temptation, but money sitting on a ledger in some bank?” He shrugs, waves a dismissive hand. “That’s safe.”
“I’m aware of all this.”
“Right, but I’m reminding you, because I’m about to ask you something critical.” He sits back, studying me. I don’t like thelook on his face. It’s a mix of worry and determination. Finn only ever looks at me like that when I’m about to do something dangerous.
“Alright, who’s got to die?”
He grimaces, knuckle rapping on the table. “Not that.”
My eyebrows raise. “Don’t tell me I have to fuck someone?”
“Liam—“
“Bomb maybe? Or hey, I know, I gotta kidnap some poor innocent daughter?”
He sighs and rubs his face. “You’re going to make this so fucking hard.”
“Just say it.”
“I’m offering you an opportunity.” He’s dead serious now. No more jokes, which is hard for me. I live my life with jokes. Humor’s safe, it keeps the world at arm’s length. What can hurt if everything’s hilarious?
