Page 135 of Filthy Feck


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He cut the line before I could reply, but I didn’t need to continue talking to him to know what he wasn’t saying out loud.

“Don’t have to worry about a long goodbye with him, do we?”

I shook my head. “Eoghan’s always been a man of few words.”

“He didn’t seem happy at the end. Did he want her to be pregnant?”

“I’d say unhappy is Eoghan’s standard state of being. But no, I agree. Knowing him, he’s relieved about her not being pregnant but also pissed that she isn’t.”

“And they say women are contrary.”

“They do. I think you, better than me, can understand why he’d be relieved and pissed. Especially after what he said.”

Her lips pursed. “A kid is another person to keep alive. To worry about being killed.But, that’s another person to accept you from the ground up and who’ll love you unconditionally if you don’t make a mess of everything.”

I nudged her in the side with my elbow. “You’re too hard on yourself.”

“You’re not hard enough on me.”

“Is that a complaint about what happened on the couch?”

Humor made her eyes light up. “No.” She shoved my shoulder. “Jerk.”

I just winked, glad to see her smile again. My tone turned more serious, however, when I asked, “You’ve heard of the team Eoghan works for?”

Her scowl was dark. “Heard of and dismissed as BS. There are always whispers, but the agents on that team might as well exist under smoke and mirrors.

“I’d be impressed that your brother is a part of it if it weren’t crazy that they exist at all.”

“I guess it means we have a basic idea of how Aleks Kuznetsov died, though. And we know that whoever wanted him dead worked for a secret team in British intelligence.”

Nodding, she mumbled tiredly, “I wonder why they shared details about a mission that went wrong. It’s one thing to give an outline, but it’s another to name names.”

She had a point.

Frowning, I wondered out loud, “Unless Eoghan’s division plants itself firmly against the Brotherhood?”

“Could be against Sparrows.”

“Nah. Eoghan would have said. He wouldn’t keep something like that from us.”

“He might not know he is.”

“True.” I rubbed my chin. “Question.”

“Answer.”

“Question colon. Not… Never mind.” I sighed. “If your mother was murdered, and we know she was a Brother, was she killed because she was a double agent or because she was a spy?”

“And whatever motive there was for her death, was Dagda a Sparrow or anti-Brotherhood?”

“He wasn’t a Sparrow. He hates them.”

“You say that like you know him.”

I hitched a shoulder. “I’ve spoken to him.”

Star froze. “He murdered my mom.”

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