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So fucking many.
Was it any wonder I couldn’t sleep at night?
“Do you ever get scared you’ll lose her?”
I shot him a glance, well aware he wasn’t just talking about me, but himself too. "You're the one who told me I need to sleep. What do you think keeps me up at night? The job?" I scoffed. "My soul is dirty enough that the shit I do for the Points doesn't give me insomnia anymore."
“We all have our secrets.”
"What are yours? Her dad?"
"Inessa is way too smart not to have figured out that I was behind his kneecaps being blown out," he said dryly, rubbing his chin. “Glad that fucker’s dead though, and his soul ain't on my conscience. How long has it been since you’ve confessed?”
That had me blinking at him. “Why?”
He shrugged. “Curious.”
“About?”
“Whether or not it works. I have to say, ever since the church burned down, shit’s been different.” He tapped his temple. “I used to think it was bullshit, but Da hasn’t been making us go to another parish, so I’ve been taking advantage of the change of pace.
“I kill as easily as I blink,” he said, raising his hand and flicking his index finger against his thumb as if he were pulling the trigger on his sniper rifle. “That has a dramatic effect on how I view the world.”
Studying him, I had to admit nothing about this conversation was going how I’d imagined. “I don’t doubt that it does.”
Seemed to me that the discussion on the table was our immortal souls. The Holy fucking Trinity. When all I’d expected was to watch the rerun of the Knicks’ game when he came over.
He tipped his head to the side. “Tell you a secret for one of yours?”
My brow puckered at that. “We’ve already shared secrets, haven’t we?”
His smirk made an appearance, one that made me smile because he was such a cocky piece of shit who went through life like he was fucking James Bond that, at some point, you stopped thinking of him as a man—he was a soldier.
A killing machine.
A military-trained assassin who had more kills on his hands than even his da could compete with.
Long distance or not.
“I don’t consider those a secret. Not when every woman who enters the family home figures out you're an O'Donnelly faster than we can eat Ma’s Sunday roast.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“One glance at Ma’s wall of fame and Inessa was getting antsy. I’ve heard them talking—”
“You’ve heard them talking? How?” He answered with a smile, and the unholy gleam in his eyes had me shaking my head at him. “What the hell have you done now?”
“Inessa’s phone’s bugged.”
I scowled at him. “Are you shitting me?”
“Why are you so shocked?” he questioned. “That’s not even my secret. It’s Conor’s.”
“This fucking family,” I growled. “Is Aoife bugged?”
“What do you think?” was his droll retort.
Yeah, Aoife was bugged.
