Page 105 of Filthy Truth


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“I am an alphabet,” Eoghan retorted, stabbing his fork into a piece of chicken with more force than was necessary for a breast as succulent as what Ma roasted. “You got a problem with my loyalties, deartháir?”

Brennan narrowed his eyes. “That’s different.”

“Is it?”

As Eoghan and Brennan engaged in a battle of wills, Ma murmured, “Which agency were you with, dear?”

I grimaced at the term of endearment but Star merely replied, “I was with the CIA. Recruited from the Army and sold into slavery by the same alphabet agency, so you can rest assured that I owe them no loyalties.”

Ma’s mouth gaped a little, but it was Brennan who cut her a look. “This could be a double-blind.”

“Would you like to see my scars, Brennan?” Star quipped, and warily, I studied the fork in her hand.

“Brennan,” I warned, but it was too late.

The fork was there, buried in the antique mahogany between Brennan’s pointer and middle finger. The metal quivered in place from the kinetic energy thrumming through it.

Eoghan chuckled. “You deserved that.”

Victoria croaked, “Did you miss on purpose?”

“Star rarely does things without purpose,” I informed her with a smile that I hoped was soothing.

“Is that supposed to reassure me that you’re trustworthy?” Brennan drawled, moving his fingers out of the way of the makeshift weapon.

“It is actually. You should see what she did to her grandfather.”

Ma released a shocked gasp that morphed into a bark of laughter. She slapped a hand to her mouth to cover it up, but it was too late for that—I’d already seen and heard it.

“You did that to your grandfather?”

Inessa’s question was drowned out by Savannah’s, “Who the fuck is your grandfather and why have I never met him?”

Somehow, that set the tone for the rest of the meal.

Brennan, less suspicious than before but still wary, had even laughed a few times at Savannah and Star’s bickering.

Later, when we were leaving—everyone apart from Paddy, of course—Ma grabbed my hand. “I like her.”

“I could tell.”

“Did she stab her grandfather?”

“She did.”

“Did he deserve it?”

I pulled a face because the jury was still out in my mind. “Star thought so.”

“She’s strong, son. Very strong. That’s a weakness in itself sometimes.”

Curious at her insight, I pressed a kiss to her cheek. “We’re working on it.”

“Your father didn’t rely on me until it was too late and our paths were set, Conor. Even then, he didn’t trust me with his illness, didn’t trust me with his plans. Start as you mean to go on or it’ll taint what you build together.” She swallowed. “I think your grandmother would approve that she’s the one wearing her cameo. Maybe she knew, right from the beginning, that I wasn’t good enough for it.”

My brow furrowed at that. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“And I’m sure it is,” she quipped. “You go on now. Declan let it slip earlier that you’re traveling to England?”

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