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“How about twenty-five thousand American dollars?”
For that amount of money, this isn’t as simple as Brody makes it out to be. There’s a reason they want me there. And I plan on finding out what that reason is.
With a smirk, I say, “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
“Good, lad,” Brody replies, his excitement suffocating me. “Liam will letcha know the details closer to the day.”
Of course, he will. They wouldn’t want me to get cold feet and chicken out. Or worse yet, dob them into the peelers.
“No problem.”
Our conversation is done. “I’ll be seein’ ya soon.”
And he hangs up.
“If y’ll excuse me.” Liam doesn’t give me a chance to reply as he gets up, leaving me alone.
I don’t care why he’s pissed off. I got what I wanted—to gain access to the Doyles and make them pay accordingly. But for that to happen, I need to do one thing…and that’s come clean to Uncle Sean. I need to tell him everything, and I need to do that now.
There is no easy way to do this because I know Uncle Sean is going to be ragin’ either way. Aye, I’m coming to him with information which will give us the upper hand, but how I got that information is going to leave Uncle Sean wired to the moon.
He’s in his office, which is in the opposite wing to Connor’s, so I know he’ll be alone. Knocking on his door, I prepare for anything because for the first time in my life, I don’t know if Uncle Sean will side with me on this.
He opens the door, and when he sees me, he arches a brow. “Whatta ye knockin’ for? Yer always welcome.”
“I’m not too sure y’ll think that once I tell ye what I did.”
He doesn’t say a word. Instead, he opens the door wider, permitting me entry as he walks to the table in the corner of the room that has his bottle of scotch. He pours two glasses as I close the door.
“What did ya do now?” he asks, offering me a glass.
Accepting, I throw it back before revealing it all. “I was in Dublin tonight. Meetin’ up with Liam Doyle.”
Uncle Sean pauses mid sip of his scotch.
“I’ve been undercover, I guess ya could call it. They think I’m Mike from America. They trust me. I killed Aidan Doyle.”
Uncle Sean doesn’t speak. He slumps into his leather chair, gutted.
“I found an address in Connor’s drawer when I broke into his office. The address was for a pub in Dublin. The Doyles’ pub.”
The less he speaks, the more I do.
“I earned their trust by winnin’ a fight against Hugh. They think I’m just some stupid foreigner which is why they’re havin’ me do their dirty work. But tonight, they told me they’re comin’ to Belfast. They plan to rob us.”
Uncle Sean places the empty glass onto his desk, his eyes void of emotion. I’ve never seen him like this. “Uncle Sean?”
“Aye, cub?” he says, and I wonder if he’s gone into shock.
“Are ye all right?”
He rocks in his chair, considering my question, and what he asks next confirms he’s shook. “Why d’ya call him Connor? He’s yer da.”
After everything I’ve just revealed,thisis what concerns him the most?
“I don’t know that. He’s never been a father to me.”
“Is that why ye did this? To get back at him?”
