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Brennan gaped at him. “What?”
“It is. You’re great at arguing. You listen and let people fall into the belief that you’re not interested then you trap them with some insane bullshit that always proves them wrong.”
Conor’s nod came slowly but it came. “He’s right. I never thought of it that way. I’m used to you always keeping quiet because of Da.”
My sniff said it all.
“You have a problem?”
“Yeah, I do. I know exactly what you did when you were a teenager, Brennan.” His tension flooded the room at my words. “And that’s baloney. Your da blaming you like you were a foot soldier for what happened to your mother says more about him than you.”
He scowled at me. But that was it. No comeback.
Aidan’s gaze darted between the pair of us. “You know what happened?”
“Of course I do.”
Conor shrugged when he found himself at the center of his brothers’ attention. “She’d have found out anyway.”
“Not if you didn’t tell her,” Aidan retorted.
“Since when was it a family secret?”
“Since forever.” Declan rolled his eyes.
“I don’t see why it’s so bad that she knows that dipshit over there is only a dipshit because he’s emotionally stunted.”
“I think you mean repressed,” I corrected.
Conor snorted. “Same difference.”
“If we’ve finished psychoanalyzing me,” Brennan growled. “Can we return to the topic at hand?” When everyone stared blankly at him, he prompted, “Shay? And whether he wants to be the goddamn president of the United States before we go to the trouble of handing the position to him on a platter?”
Eoghan grumbled, “Whatever you do, don’t phrase it like that. He’s too fair for his own good.”
“Eoghan’s right. He’ll want to win the race fair and square,” Declan said uneasily.
“There’s no reason he can’t win on his policies,” I tossed down. When they peered at me like I’d started talking in Latin, I sighed. “My grandfather might be a kingmaker, but he believes that he’s a righteous man. It’s bullshit to me, but it’s not to him. He believes in the Brothers. He believes their cause is a noble one.”
“You mean he doesn’t like to be tarred with the same brush as the Sparrows?”
“Got it in one, Eoghan.”
Conor frowned. “She’s right.”
“Naturally,” I purred, earning myself a quick grin from him.
“Anton won’t help for the sake of helping,” Conor reasoned. “Shay will have to be a good candidate.”
“The best,” I corrected.
“And if your intentions aren’t pure, Aidan, then he won’t help us either. Let’s face it, he’s not going to be around to see Shay’s election, but that doesn’t mean he can’t set things into play for us.”
Aidan rested his chin on his fist as he settled his focus on me. “My intentions aren’t pure, though.”
“Doubt that. It’s not every day that an Irish mobster wants his nephew to sit in the Oval Office,” I retorted. “Anyone who gets a boner for politics knows that without Congress on his side, a president can’t do dick. And that’s with legitimate policies, never mind illegitimate ones.
"What power are you going to get by Shay becoming president? Never mind that he can’t run until he’s thirty-five, so you’re all going to be using walkers by that point—”
