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A faint voice sounded in the background. “Sir? The meeting with the prime minister is about to start.”
Davidson grunted under his breath. “I have to go. Just remember that everything comes at a cost. Even the truth.”
When he cut the call, with those words echoing in my ears, my plans changed. I needed more answers before I returned home so I phoned Aidan Jr.
“You hear about Michael?” I asked by way of a greeting. “Or did Conor only send the livestream to me?”
“Michael? Ma’s guard?”
That meant he was in the dark.I reached up and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Yeah.”
“What’s Kid done now?”
“What hasn’t he done?” I snarked. “I told you to watch him.”
“Watch him? Who the fuck can watch the watcher? It's as impossible as I said it would be."
“The second you told me about that amped up taser, I warned you this would happen.”
Aidan huffed. “What in particular?”
“I’m sending you a link. That should explain everything.”
“Want me to stay on the line?”
“Yeah.” I sent him the link to the stream then listened as he sucked in a sharp breath.
“Jesus. Michael looks…”
“Like Chucky has been gnawing on him?”
“I was going to say like Freddy and Jason decided to team up.”
“Exactly.”
Neither of us were strangers to the darker aspects of the job; Kid wasn’t either. I was averse to wetwork, Kid too, but that was because he just had a fucking way of doing shit that feltwrong.
I knew for a fact that neither of us had done anything like this for years. It was crazy to me that we’d both fallen off the wagon within a couple weeks of each other.
It was this fucking world we lived in.
Toxic. So fucking toxic.
“Why’s he doing this to Michael? Conor doesn’t do stuff for shits and giggles.”
“Your ma asked him to.”
“Ma? What the fuck? Why would she ask him to do this to her favorite guard?”
“Because he isn’t her favorite guard anymore.” I heaved a sigh. “Look, I have to tell you something but I need you not to ask questions, just answer mine. Okay?”
“No fair.”
“Life ain’t fair. This is urgent, Aidan. I need you to agree to answer my questions.”
“I agree.” He grunted. “Fucker.”
“Aoife’s Father… he’s Alan Davidson. As in, POTUS.” I let that sink in, and even though Aidan was Aidan and was used to dealing with the fallout from his father—i.e. drama worse than with the Cold War—I knew this wouldn’t resonate quickly.
