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"Pussywhipped," Conor muttered, earning himself a glower he batted away with a smirk.
As I hung up, Finn cleared his throat. "That’s the problem when your women cross factions."
"No shit," I retorted, palming my cell before I pocketed it.
"That’s not going to be awkward," Conor derided.
I reached up and tested my neck, sighing with relief when I got it to crack. "Luciu will get over his snit by then."
Eying me, Conor queried, "What are you thinking, Aidan?"
"I’m thinking that MacMurray was taking drugs when Da was alive. Da might have been deteriorating, but his mind seemed like it was all there—"
Finn grimaced. "As much as he was ever in possession of his faculties."
Conceding that with a nod, I continued, "—so, I’m wondering if Da knew his man was on drugs. If he didn’t, I’m wondering what kind of headcase MacMurray is to risk it by taking drugs when Da was alive."
Conor winced. "Remember when Da found out Peter Kelly was on coke?"
"His nose still ain’t right."
"Right?" Finn hooted. "He looks like a fucking pig, and he’s had about five reconstruction surgeries since then because he can't breathe through it."
"If MacMurraywashooked, then sourcing his pills wouldn’t have been easy," Conor remarked. "Not with the threat of Da finding out."
Finn scratched his jaw. "You’re thinking he’s a spy?"
Staring around the room, I mused, "Maybe."
"Sparrows?" Conor asked.
"Likely." I heaved a sigh. "Look at the fucking mess here. What the hell did he do to that woman?"
Conor shoved his hands into his pockets. "Hookers aren’t people to bastards like MacMurray."
I knew he was right and was sickened by that truth.
"I’ll be surprised if she survives," I said softly. "The blood…"
"Grainne didn’t mention she was at death’s door. And she said she had a medical student on staff. Maybe she saved the girl?" Conor asked, his tone hopeful.
"Maybe," was all I said, but I doubted it.
"How do you know Grainne?" Finn asked after a couple minutes of looking at the spatter pattern on the wall.
"Long story," I rumbled. "Conor can tell you later. We have shit to do."
Conor grabbed my arm. "What’s the plan?"
"I’m going home."
"What?" Finn demanded, his surprise clear.
I didn’t answer, just took a final glance around the room before I told him, "Twelve o’clock sharp, arrange for every Five Pointer to be waiting for me at the cement factory."
"You mean just the lieutenants, surely?" Finn sputtered.
I shook my head. "Every single one. It’s time I introduced myself to them."
"They know who you fucking are, Aidan," Conor argued.
"No. They know me as Junior, Kid. They…" Hesitating, I considered MacMurray’s defiance. "Mostof them were terrified of Da, and rightfully so." Dragging my arm out of his hold, I cracked my knuckles. "He was insane, but it’s time they realize that a sane leader comes with benefits—and pitfalls too."
