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Grainne’s gaze darted over to him and the sudden shift in her pallor had me further studying her. "The ECD were behind his death?"
"Yes." I lifted my chin. "You didn’t know?"
"I didn’t." She settled in her seat, heavily enough that the chair rolled back. "I thought… I thought he died of a heart attack."
That was the story we’d put out there.
No one knew that Da had been killed by a hit man in Greenwood Cemetery.
No one knew that the First Lady had been assassinated twenty or so feet away from our father.
And no one sure as fuck knew that our da was the reason the First Lady was there in the first place.
"He didn’t," I said simply.
"No." She swallowed, her gaze fixed on the envelope in Conor’s grasp. "What are you going to do with that information?"
For a woman who’d been calm and collected since the first words she’d spoken to me, I recognized that shaken tone.
That was something I was used to hearing.
Sick as it was, it resettled my equilibrium.
Everything about this meeting made me feel like a kid playing catch-up.
Not anymore.
"You’re scared of the backlash?" I queried, taking a seat in front of her desk without asking.
"The ECD will know how Keegan’s location was leaked," she rasped.
"Who are you more scared of?" Eoghan asked, his tone like silk.
"I never had reason to be scared of the Five Points," Grainne retorted, her tone stronger now.
"You know what he’s asking," I rumbled, watching her mouth tighten in response.
"The Five Points’ reach is further. Their goals wider. The ECD’s desires are… deranged. The ECD is dangerous because of that, but the Five Points are deadlier. Does that answer your question?"
Contemplating her, I rubbed my chin. "Monitor the address, Conor. Don’t infiltrate it."
Conor snapped, "You have to be shitting me. The bastard killed our father—"
I cast him a look. "Conor."
He gritted his teeth but stayed put.
"Eamonn Keegan was directly responsible for Aidan’s death?" Grainne whispered.
I nodded, watching with interest as her gaze turned unfocused.
She reached up and anointed herself with the sign of the cross.
Manhattan’s Madam anointing herself with the cross in her goddamn whorehouse—wonders would never fucking cease.
"Has the girl returned? Or is she still with him?"
"Meggie checked in an hour ago. My intention was to pass this information along in the morning, but circumstances dictated I move faster."
