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Frowning, I asked, “What about?”
He shook his head as he turned on his phone, and the recording played once more.
“What else did they ask you?”
“If a rumor was true,”he said with a groan of pain that almost had me wincing—I’d seen Bren in action. He made a Spanish Inquisitor look friendly.
“What rumor?”
“That Finn and Aoife were going to get married at St. Patrick’s. I mean, they asked, but it was public knowledge. Father Doyle would have published the banns—”
For a second, it was like time froze. The words seemed to penetrate my ear drums in slow motion.
“There wasn’t time for the banns to be published.”Brennan’s voice was like ice. “They either told the Colombians, or they triggered that drive-by shooting, Callum. On your word.
“That rumor they wanted clarifying was their way of scheduling what could have been a massacre.”
“No! Fuck no,”Callum growled, terror making the words quiver. “That ain’t got nothing to do with me. I would never have—”
The next sound he made was a scream of pain as Brennan’s fists did the talking.
I was sightless.
Deaf.
My heart pounding.
My blood like ice.
“Finn?”
Aidan Jr. was there, his hand on my shoulder. He squeezed. Hard. Enough to jolt me.
“Callum was behind the drive-by?” I ground out, my eyes wide as I tried to process that one of our own had triggered that blood bath.
A blood bath that saw my wife almost dying on the church steps.
A blood bath that had seen her miscarry twice thanks to her injuries.
That meant when she’d carried Jake, she was high-risk, and which meant this pregnancy was going to be high-risk too.
“He was,” Brennan confirmed.
I stared up at Junior, seeing the rage etched into his features, a rage that was just and true because that drive-by was the reason he had gotten hooked on opiates. The reason he walked with a limp and suffered with chronic, excruciating pain.
“I can’t believe he was a Sparrow,” Conor rasped, shuffling over to the seat Aidan Jr. had left vacant. As he slumped into it, he scrubbed a hand over his face.
My mouth twisted as the pain cut me in two. “Brennan?”
“Yeah,deartháir?” he asked as he tucked his phone away in his pocket again.
Damn, I knew shit was bad if Brennan was butchering Gaelic. “Tell me you made him pay.”
He cracked his knuckles. “I made him fucking pay. Don’t you goddamn worry.”
My fingers dug into the palms of my hands as I balled them into fists. “You should have told me. I should have been there—”
“Wasn’t any time for that, Finn. I had to act fast. It was dicey enough as it was, but trust me, I made him pay. I made himhurtfor you and for Aoife and for Aidan.”
