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As skilled as Bren was, asinfamousat torture as he was, no one could serve that fucker justice like I could have.
“Our kids are supposed to be our weaknesses. Our women too,” I ground out.
Senior swiveled in his seat, circling so that we were looking at each other. “You’re not wrong,” he said eventually.
“What if you don’t have either yet?” Conor grated out.
“Then you don’t see the forest for the trees,” I told him, my gaze on Senior’s all the while. “Mark won’t take bullshit where Callum’s concerned. He wants answers. You need to make sure he gets them, and they need to be good enough to pass muster because, bet your ass, he’ll double check the information you get to him.”
Senior nodded slowly, his gaze on mine as I got to my feet. "I'll see that it's done."
“I’ve spent St. Stephen’s Day listening to Walsh and Sullivan snivel to you, Aidan, but that’s not how I’m going to spend the rest of it.”
I dragged off my suit jacket, hooked two fingers into the collar then draped it over my shoulder all while I worked at the knot on my tie with the other. I tugged so hard I almost choked myself, but the truth was, the only way I was going to calm the fuck down was to go and be with Aoife and Jake.
And even that might not be enough this time.
