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“I’ll see you at the tables, Lucky,” Novikov grunts, turning away before I can respond.
Seamus leads us out of the building, Niall’s shoulders only relaxing as we drive out of Back Bay toward Oracle. My eyes linger on Seamus’s pocket, where the flash drive is ensconced.
“What are you going to do with it?”
Seamus sighs, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. “I’ll pass it to Pa. It’s not that valuable. I have no idea what the Moldovans planned to do with it. It will be more useful when we find whoever trashed your house and confront them.”
My eyes turn forward, meeting Niall’s in the rearview mirror. “I’m on it, Lucky. I’ll have yer man before ye know it.”
He fucking better. I have an itching to strangle the bastard.
Chapter TWENTY-TWO
CONNOR
I leave Andie and Lauren in the kitchen at Paddy’s house, baking because Lauren wanted Andie to teach her how to make jelly donuts.
I think the little old lady who lived in their building –the one murdered by the Italians when they were looking for Lauren – originally taught Andie. And I think that might be why Lauren wants to know the recipe since she looked at that woman as a mother.
The phone rings for about a minute before it’s answered.
“Siobhan Fitzpatrick speaking.”
I swallow roughly. “Mammy, it’s Connor. How are you?”
I lean against the door of my SUV, staring up at the clouds, wondering how she will take the news I’m about to deliver.
“Connor? I’m grand. Are ye calling to tell me that ye’re coming to Dublin to live with me?”
Jesus fuck. Of course, that’s what she’s still pushing for. Stupid woman. It’s never going to happen, and she knows it. I shouldn’t have let her get away with so much when she lived here. She’s read my indifference as something else, and it’s gone to her head.
“Not exactly, Mammy.”
“Then why are ye calling me? Ye know that I told ye not to call unless that was what ye were going to say.”
Jesus fuck. Give me the strength to deal with this insufferable woman.
“I just thought I’d call ye to let ye know I’m fixing to ask a lass to marry me,” I grit out.
There’s absolute silence on the other end of the line before she erupts in shrieks.
“Connor Fitzpatrick! Ye better not be coddling me with this!” she screams.
“I’m dead certain, Mammy,” I assure her, and she squeals a bit more. “Her name’s Andie. She’s from Boston.”
That shuts her right up. “So ye’ll be marrying there and living there?”
I make noises of agreement down the line.
“And weans?” Mammy breathes, sounding hopeful.
“Aye. If she’s in agreement, we’ll be having plenty of weans.”
“When?”
I fight a smirk. “As soon as she’ll agree to have them with me. I’d like a wean close in age to Seamus’s, and Tiggy’s about to pop any day now.”
There’s dead silence on the other end of the line, and I’m briefly wondering if she’s keeled over in her excitement.
