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Thirty-Four
Brennan
“You’ll never guesswhere the fuck I am.”
From my vantage point, I frowned down at a pool of blood that was gathering on the floor below me. “Are you fucking messing with me right now?”
“No. I’m not.”
“You pulled me out of an interrogation to bitch at me?”
“Guess where I am, Brennan. Guess where your wife has brought me.”
Using my forearm to wipe away the sweat on my brow, I grumbled, “If you’re moaning about her going shopping—”
“No, I’d prefer that. We’re in a goddamn soup kitchen.”
Surprise had me straightening up. “You’re shitting me.”
“I ain’t,” he countered. “I’m in a fucking soup kitchen, and she’s elbow deep in carrot peelings.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why is she elbow deep in carrot peelings?”
“Because she’s peeling carrots, dumbfuck,” Bagpipes grumbled.
“Why though?”
“She’s volunteering. Just signed up today.”
My brow creased. “My wife has volunteered to work in a soup kitchen?”
“Do you have soap in your ears or something?”
“Maybe.” I grunted. “Well, that’ll get Father Doyle off my back.”
“Why would her volunteering at a soup kitchen that's not attached to St. Patrick’s get him off your back?”
“Shit!” I groused. “She ain’t at St. Patrick’s Community Center?”
“Nope. I’m guessing you guys don’t talk about this shit?”
“When the fuck am I supposed to talk to her about stuff like this?”
“In bed.” Bagpipes laughed. “Ya know, before you fuck her. Then there’s after the fuck. Never heard of pillow talk?"
The second my head hit that pillow, I was fast asleep. But we talked when we were together. She wasn’t a bit of fluff, actually had something going on between her ears. Listening to her discuss horses, the sisterly anecdotes she dropped from time to time, and conversing about what was happening on the news had told me that much.
That she’d whored herself out still boggled my fucking mind. She must have had an education, so why the hell she’d taken that route was beyond me. Unless, of course, it was down to that masochistic side of her personality...
Aware Bagpipes was waiting on me to reply, I grumbled, “I ain’t working you hard enough if you’ve got time to talk to Kerry-Louise.”
Bagpipes snickered. “Oh, please, sir, just add another six hours' work to my twenty-hour shift.”
My lips twitched. “Shut up.”
