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Aoife grimaced. “That last lockdown didn’t do her any good.”
I shared the grimace. “I hate lockdowns.”
When the Five Pointers went to battle, we were ‘imprisoned’ in a separate, secure compound for our protection.
The experience never failed to suck.
“Me too. Now, what happened?”
On a deep exhalation, I blurted it all out, keying this relative stranger into the intimate details of my life so that Conor would help me.
I watched her already pale peach complexion blanch as I explained about what Anthony had done to Sarah and how I knew that fate had awaited me if I’d met with Bill Murphy. Then, I told her about my half-brother, Sin, and how I’d put my hopes into him.
By the end of my miserable tale, Conor had finished his pie, and Aoife was sniffling a little—maybe shewaspregnant?—and I felt ragged and worn out.
“Digger’s waiting for you downstairs?”
That was the first thing Conor had said in the good forty minutes of my soliloquy.
Biting my lip, I nodded.
“Invite him up.”
“He thinks he’ll be shot—”
“If he were Brennan or Declan,maybe,” Aoife answered. “As it stands, it’s Conor. He doesn’t shoot. He destroys lives through his computer.”
“That sterling character assassination would make another man cry.”
Aoife winked at him. “But you’re notanotherman, are you?”
He sniffed. “I’m not about to shoot him, Mary Catherine. Aoife’s right—that isn’t my style. I’ll save him from my brothers too, but I don’t make the same promises for your father.”
I swallowed. “You mean that?”
“Of course I do.”
His brow furrowed. “Sarah Mulhearne’s husband might not be so lucky either. Da doesn’t like rapists.”
“Sweeter words I’ve yet to hear,” Aoife grumbled.
Conor nudged her with his elbow. “Not after Ma and the Aryans.”
“You mean, before he was okay with that?”
“Not entirely. I just don’t think he thought about it. It’s not his style, and because he’s so…”
“Depraved,” Aoife tacked on helpfully.
To which Conor hummed his agreement. “I don’t think it occurs to him. Not among his people. It’s something enemies do to attack a made man, not something that happens in-house, if you see what I mean.” Aoife’s scowl said she didn’t like his logic. “Take the Russians, for example. It’s well known that Vasov’s wife was raped, butchered, and murdered under the Pakhan’s roof when the Italians stormed his compound.”
“It’s like living in a book about pirates. Whoacts like that when the world isn’t at war?” she reasoned. “And it’s not as if we should do that if weareat war.”
Conor shrugged at her harrumph. “Our world is constantly at war. And anyway, there’s always somewhere that’s feuding. We’re not a peaceful species.”
Aoife huffed. “I refuse to debate this with you.”
Deciding that an angry discussion was in the cards if I didn’t bring things back on track, I cleared my throat. “I appreciate you listening to what I have to say.”
