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I flip him off, growling. “No. I fucking cuddled her, you fucking prick.”
His laughter makes me want to slam my fist into his jaw.
“You did it wrong if you needed Plan B,” he snorts. “Were you not listening when I said there was no fucking involved?”
“I listened,” I tell the asshole through gritted teeth. “Fucking nightmare. I was fucking hard as a rock the entire fucking time.”
“So you decided you fuck her. Defeats the purpose.” Seamus is cockyandsmug now.
“No.” I glare at him. I listened. I followed his fucking rules. It wastorturelying under her and not getting myself off, but I fucking did it.
“I asked her if it made her feel better, and when she said yes, I asked her if we were done cuddling. She said yes, and then I fucked her.”
Seamus throws his head back, roaring with laughter. Once he’s calmed the fuck down, he nods.
“Don’t go getting attached, Paddy,” he warns me. “If Connor’s right, Pa will have the final say.”
“And so he will.” I sigh, smoothing my thumb over the rim of my glass. “Connor’s probably right.”
Seamus glances sharply over at me.
“The lass told me today that she’s scared of the Italian men. And that they were gunning for her because of her brother.”
“Fuck, Paddy.” Seamus blows out his breath and scratches the back of his head. “Just don’t go getting fucking attached, yeah?”
I don’t say anything, tossing back the last of my whiskey. Standing, I rap on the table, and Seamus’s eyes fly up to mine.
“Let me know what Sean says.”
He nods and watches as I stalk from the room. Striding out of the club, I fight the urge to flip off the Vice cops.
I’d love nothing more than to walk over there and offer them a drink to let them know weknowthey are there, but Sean laid down the law when they first started scoping the place out. No one talks to them. No one acknowledges them. I get his reasoning, but they annoy the fuck out of me.
I don’t have time to get into it with our resident Vice cops. I have another errand to run. A personal one. Sliding into my SUV, I pull out of the parking lot, my eyes finding the unmarked Crown Vic in the rearview mirror. They don’t follow me. They never follow anyone.
It's a relatively easy run to Dot. Unsurprising, since it’s the middle of the afternoon. I got the address from Delic. He was wary about giving it to me, but I assured him it didn’t concern Delic’s business. And it doesn’t.
The building is a little shabby but clean. Checking the address on my phone, I skip the lift, jogging up the stairs to the third floor and hammering on the door of apartment nine.
“Jesus! I’m coming. Keep your hair on!”
The door snaps open, and Perry frowns at me, his T-shirt on inside out, his reddish-brown hair falling into his face. I’ve never seen him anything less than smoothly put together, but I think I just got him out of bed.
“Flynn?” his tone is colored with confusion. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I need to talk to you about Lauren Carmichael.”
Perry’s eyes widen, darting over my shoulder like he’s afraid the big bad bogeyman will appear there.
“Shit. You better come inside,” he mutters, stepping back and letting me in.
Once I step inside, he locks the door, sliding the chain across for good measure. My eyebrows shoot up, and Perry flushes when he catches sight of my face.
“This is Dot, and you want to talk about a Carmichael. I’m not taking any chances.”
Okay. I don’t particularly like the sound of that. Crossing my arms over my chest, I watch Perry as he subconsciously mirrors my stance.
“What did you want to talk to me about? Is Low okay? She said she needed to find you. I sent her in your direction.”
