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I gritted my teeth. “You need to get us some answers, Kid.”
“What do you think I’m trying to do? I ain’t having a ball down here. You know how bad he stinks? He’s lucky that I don’t want him to drown or I’d just projectile vomit all over him.”
Despite the severity of the situation, I rolled my eyes because I knew exactly how Michael would be smelling thanks to Cillian Donahue.
“What do we know about the ECD?”
“The leader, Eamonn, got served a sentence for thirty years back—”
“For that bombing in Canary Wharf in London, right? In 1992?”
“Yes.”
“Think it’s a coincidence that he and Aoife share a surname?”
“No. I know it’s not. He’s her uncle.”
“I guess he’s been in prison all her life. She never mentioned him to me.” I sucked in a breath. “He’s due out?”
“I checked. He’s already out. Got released early.”
Tension hit me. “Has he come to the US?”
“One of his known aliases that didn’t get burned after the bombing flew into JFK just after New Year’s.”
That wasn’t reassuring news.
“Aoife was born in ninety-two in the States. So Michelle couldn’t have had anything to do with the Canary Wharf bombing.” At least, that was unlikely to be the reason why she was targeted.
“Not the bombing there, but they’ve done other shit over the years. Saying that, the States wouldn’t have granted her a green card if she had a record.”
I rubbed my brow. “Don’t kill Michael until we’re sure we’ve got all the answers we need.”
“It’s not going to be easy to keep him alive,” Conor grumbled. “His resources are depleted because of the cancer, never mind what I’ve put him through. If he lasts until tomorrow, then I’d be surprised.”
“Christ. Give him an energy drink or something.”
Conor snorted. “Since when was that an elixir?”
“It might help.”
“I doubt it. But I’ll stop zapping him. He’s starting to rot.”
I sucked in a breath at that imagery. “Just give me a couple hours.”
“Okay.”
Kid, never one to stand on ceremony, cut the call, and I used the number I’d memorized from Aoife’s phone.
“Aoife?” her father greeted, his voice wary.
“Davidson, we need to talk.”
“What doyouwant?”
His tone wasn’t inviting, but it didn’t need to be. We didn’t have to like each other to have a mutual goal—protecting Aoife.
“Aoife—” The trouble was, where to start?
