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“Yeah, I think Bagpipes’s picked one. That bitch wife of his wants new curtains.”
Despite the situation and the yawning pit in my stomach where Callum’s betrayal was creating a new ulcer, I laughed. “God help him then. Who the fuck knows what kind of drapes Kerry-Louise will end up picking.”
Tink grimaced. “Puke on pink.”
We snickered because we both knew she was more than capable of decorating their apartment that way, and he was whipped enough to take it.
“See you later, Tink,” I told him mid-snicker.
“Okay, Bren. Just let me know what to do with the fuckers.”
“Will do.”
Heading out of the warehouse, I stared around my miserable domain.
The view wasn’t exactly picturesque but it sure as fuck fitted my mood.
A mood that was only going to get worse once I spoke with Da.
Because I’d never been the kind of guy who borrowed trouble, I opened the door to my Maybach and pulled out the device Conor used to scan for bugs and other monitoring tech. As clever as the Alphabets were getting at hiding that kind of gear, my brother was smarter.
Each of us had a sweeper, and we were supposed to use it every morning before we got into the car. It was a force of habit now, and I’d done it before I went to the warehouse today.
With what I’d just learned, however, I used it again, and was relieved to find that my car hadn’t been tampered with while I’d been dealing with the thieves.
The sweep now complete, I jumped into the Maybach, roared out of the yard, and the second I was on the right track for home, I called Da.
It wasn’t even seven AM yet, but I knew he kept early hours. I didn’t think he had nightmares, but if anyone deserved them, it was my father. I just knew that he didn’t sleep a lot, never had done.
“You canceling this early, son? Your ma will be disappointed.”
My hands tightened around the wheel before I murmured, “I’m not canceling. I just have news.”
“This early?”
“Yeah. I got a call... those jewelry heists, I picked up the bastards who pulled them.”
He clapped his hands together. “Well done, Bren. That was fast.”
“Yeah. I set Forrest onto it.”
“Good kid, Forrest. Smart.”
“He is.” I stared at the shitty road ahead of me, wondering how I could make this easier to swallow, wondering if that was even fucking possible—
“Everything okay, Bren?”
Well, that was definitely a segue.
Scrubbing a hand over my face, I rasped, “Not really, Da. No.”
His jovial tone disappeared, the one I was more accustomed to hearing bled into his voice as he demanded, “What’s going on?”
Hands back on the wheel, I tightened them to the point of pain as I did something only a fucking idiot would do—I lied to him.
The insane leader of the Irish Mob loathed liars, stacked them up in a special place in hell where he tormented them worse than the Devil himself could. But, and it was a massive but, I had to investigate this some more. Had to make sure what those dumbfucks back there had said was correct before I condemned Callum to a gruesome death that made perishing by being fried inside out seem like child’s play.
“Nothing, Da, nothing. Just been a long fucking night...”
