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“What’s the damage to the bastards?”
“A couple of black eyes. But there were three of them and only one of me.”
Silence fell at that, and then Da growled, “Bren, you’re dealing with it?”
“Conor and me are. Yeah.” Only knowing they’d ganged up on him had made me agree to the insanity of reappropriating three little shits’ trust funds.
He grunted his approval. “Shay, I’m telling you—you did good.”
“Thanks, Grandda,” he said gruffly, and I knew I wouldn’t be the only one to take note of him dropping the ‘d’ on Da’s title.
I smiled at Shay and told him, “Go on, kid. Get. Face the music, give her the apologies, take whatever punishment she gives you on the chin, but know we’re all proud as fuck of you.”
His smile was sheepish, but he nodded. “Night, Uncle Bren, Grandda.”
“Night, kid.”
“Night, Seamus.”
As the door closed behind him, and I watched him head into the foyer of Dec’s building, Da said, “Did you hear that, Bren? He called me Grandda.”
“I heard, Da. I heard. Little man’s not used to getting into fights. He’s a bit shaken.”
“He’s a good boy,” Da agreed. “Not ideal really.”
I snorted. “Itisideal. Remember, he wants to get into politics.” Even though I knew it was a pipe dream, I wasn’t about to encourage Da to start tainting Seamus with mob bullshit.
“True.” He hummed under his breath. “That might come in useful. A few legitimate O’Donnellys along the way. I knowyourgrandda would have fucking loved to have one of his descendants in the White House.”
I rolled my eyes but said, “Yeah, he sure would.”
My grandfather wasn’t as insane as Da, but he still was a bit mentally unstable. Not that I could judge. You had to be in this line of work.
The difference between me and my father, though, was enjoyment. To me, it was a job. All the shit I did, all the moves I made, all the blood I spilled, it wasn’t for pleasure. Da liked it. The entirety of NY-fucking-C knew that.
I scrubbed a hand over my chin as I watched Shay from the side of the road, not pulling away until he got into the elevator and was whirled up to Declan’s high rise.
As I drove into the heavy traffic, I asked, “What’s wrong, Da? Did you need something?”
“Can’t a man just call to shoot the shit with his son?”
Some men might, but not this one.
Wryly, I said, “It’s unlikely.”
Da huffed. “Well, what’s with these fucking snakes you’ve sent my way?”
“I didn’t send the snakes to you. Just the task of finding them. You know I ain’t got contacts in the right departments. Plus, I got enough to handle thanks to those fucking Sparrows.”
That had Da falling silent. “You figured something out?”
“A couple of things.” I cleared my throat and decided to dodge a bullet. “You and Ma got plans for tomorrow?”
“No. Not as far as I’m aware, anyway.”
“Can I come around for dinner?”
“You don’t have to ask.”
