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"By no means is it an act of war, Aidan. I think we should call each other by our first names, no? We’re going to be working closely together after this...
"Your house is too secured for even my greatest code cracker to begin the attempt, but slipping inside the gates once you pulled through them is another matter entirely. We have done no harm. I intend no harm, either. Actually, I have a Christmas gift for you," he finished when Aidan scoffed.
For all that my heart was in my lungs because I knew this was us being in a situation that went beyond deep shinola, a part of me, the part that was fascinated by all things mafia, was breathless with anticipation.
I’d come to realize, through a thousand hours of therapy, that sometimes, the thing that made you the most scared, that terrified you to death, was also something that made you feel alive.
Messed up, but so true.
"What kind of Christmas gift?" Aidan rumbled, and this close, I could practically feel how pissed he was.
Close to vibrating, Aidan O’Donnelly Jr. was the antithesis of a happy camper. Which was very sad, because he’d been happy before.
While I knew I should be running screaming for the hills, this, if anything, confirmed that I was in the right place.
Of course, I might have changed my mind if Valentini wanted to skewer me on a spike, but lucky for Aidan, that wasn’t happening.
Phew.
Valentini lowered his hands and with a placating motion, swept them aside. "He’s in my van, waiting to be transported to wherever you’d like him."
"He?" Aidan intoned, his surprise clear.
Valentini smiled, but it was nothing like last night’s—the one that had made Jen undergo a personality transplant.
It was cold, cruel. Calculating. Twisted and bent.
Thisman I could envisage slicing up another’s face.
Shivering, I wondered how Jen had fared after we’d left. I was such a shitty friend for not having checked in sooner. Although, come to think of it, she hadn’t texted me either.
"I listen to the chatter from the Vatican." He tapped his temple. "I distrust the church, but we Italians, what can I say? Catholicism is in our blood. But my men have kids, and I’m not about to let them be preached to by some pedophilecazzo."
Aidan tensed up, making the way he was vibrating before look like a purring cat in comparison to the outraged tiger in front of me now.
"What are you talking about?" he thundered, his hand tightening around mine again. It hurt, but when I squeezed back, I knew it soothed him.
Not outwardly, but he shifted toward me the faintest inch. Like magnets, we stuck close together.
"The Archbishop of St. Patrick’s Cathedral has helped shield seven priests from being thrown in jail. When myconsiglierediscovered this, they went hunting, and uncovered a neat little connection that I’m sure your family wouldn’t like to be out in public."
Aidan grated out, "Watch your mouth."
I cast him a look, and realized that someone in the family had been abused by a priest. One of his brothers? From his fury, I’d guess so.
"I’m watching it," Valentini almost crooned, but he was being placatory, not incendiary. Although, I wasn’t sure it mattered. Aidan was acting like a hand grenade with the pin pulled. "But that’s why I brought him as a gift for you.
"Seven priests went without justice, but how many children?" Valentini shook his head. "I would ordinarily deal with this kind of thing myself, however I know how you O’Donnellys work."
"A favor for a favor," Aidan ground out.
"Exactly." Valentini smiled, warmer this time. Satisfaction lacing it. "If it makes it any better, he’s also a Sparrow."
Aidan straightened up. For that matter, so did I.
"He is?" I demanded.
Valentini cast me a curious glance. Not dismissive like I might have expected, just inquisitive. "He is." He tipped his head to the side. "You were doing the Lord’s work from an early age, Aidan. Culling the perverted from the flock. Apparently, the Archbishop was well aware of what you did with Father McKenna. They were words spilled during confession."
