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She paused in her ministrations. “I did. It was late last year, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Were you grieving him or something?”
I got her inference and had to roll my eyes even though they were so dry they scraped against the lids.
“Firstly, I’m not high. I told you that already. Secondly, I’m Irish. We hate the royal family.”
“You’re about as Irish as this iodine. You O’Donnellys,” she said with a chuckle. “What did you bring him up for then?”
Why had I?
“Do you know who the United Brotherhood are?”
“Is that the bank on Columbus and West 67th?”
I genuinely didn’t know how to answer that. “I don’t think so.”
Unless that was their front.
The NSA did shit like that all the time.
I rubbed the back of my neck. “I shouldn’t—”
“Shouldn’t, what? Tell me anything? Trust me, I’m completely in the dark,” she teased. “What do a prince and a bank have to do with anything?”
“Sounds like the punch line to a bad joke,” Finn mocked.
I cast a glance at the doorway and found him standing there, one arm against the jamb as he studied us both.
“What happened to your head, Kid?”
I hated that tone of voice. “I’m not nine, Finn.”
“You look like you are. I remember that time you came back busted up from fighting with Mark Benedict. Your ma went—” He tensed. Paused.
Aoife heaved an impatient sigh. “You can mention her, Finn. She exists. I’m not unaware of that fact.”
“You know I don’t like to upset you.”
“Then don’t freeze up when you mention her name. I know Hitler existed and you can say his name without me bursting into tears.”
“There’s a difference—”
“Yes, there is, but you freaking out when you mention her is more annoying than upsetting. So finish your sentence.”
She ended that with a glower that had me remarking, “I’d do as she says, Finn. She could freeze your balls off with that glare.”
Aoife chuckled, and Finn grumpily continued, “Your ma went apeshit over you getting into fights.”
“She would, wouldn’t she? Her good,pureboy suddenly fighting.” I let out a bitter laugh. “She had no idea.”
Aoife frowned but Finn inserted, “Aoife, leave the grouch with me. I’ll get him into bed.”
“You’re not my type,deartháir,” I mocked, earning a swat from Aoife on the shoulder and a grumble from Finn as he ambled over and hauled me out of the bathroom as if I were inebriated.
“What’s wrong with you?” he sniped in my ear.
