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“God, pass me a barf bag,” Troy said, faking gagging.
Conor huffed but turned up the music even more.
When silence settled between us, a song filled in the gaps that conversations normally took. It gave me time to think about my situation, and that skewed guilt filtered through me as I reflected on what I’d done over the years.
I didn’t like Aidan Sr. I certainly didn’t like what he’d done to his son. Nor did I like how he treated his family, but my guilt wasn’t for the man—it was for Conor.
For what I’d done to his father.
Tentatively, half expecting him to shrug my hand off his lap, I let my fingers rest on his thigh.
When he cupped them, knotting our digits together, I breathed a little easier, finding comfort in anchoring myself to him.
Still, my voice was rough as I rasped, “I’m surprised your brothers haven’t set The Whistler on me.”
He arched a brow I only saw because of the gleam from the dash. “Someone had to die that day. The sins of the fathers can’t always be passed onto the sons.”
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” Troy grumbled. “Are you purposely speaking in tongues?”
“Da gave Dagda his vengeance. He got him off our backs.”
“Why does Dagda have a hard-on for the Irish Mob?” Troy queried.
“Because they had his sister killed,” I muttered tiredly.
Troy whistled under her breath. “This is better than an episode of A Day of Our Lives.”
“Shut up,” I groused. “And I think you mean Days of Our Lives. If you’re going to bitch at me, get it right.”
She harrumphed. “This is prime-time TV shit here.”
“Not sure they’d air men getting their faces eaten off by animals before eight PM,” Conor drawled.
I had to snicker at his droll retort. “Yeah, we’ve become desensitized to violence but not by that much.”
“Not yet anyway,” Conor agreed with a chuckle.
“Okay, so, your da had Dagda’s—” She paused. “Wait. Lyra told me that Aoife is related to Dagda.”
“What? When? She doesn’t even talk.” I spluttered.
“She can talk,” Troy snapped. “It’s just easier for her to listen.”
I was quiet for a moment. “Let’s hope she becomes a teacher and not another spy. With that talent, she’s a shoo-in for the family firm.”
“So, Dagda is Aoife’s uncle, right?” Troy asked, otherwise ignoring me.
“Yeah,” Conor confirmed.
“Awkward.”
I grimaced. “Very awkward.”
“And your da killed Aoife’s mom, why?”
Before I could correct her, Conor cleared his throat. “To keep her quiet.”
Well, that was a lie.
