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“Don’t worry, her mother can’t believe it either.” The corner of his lip lifted. “And it seems you have the same unfortunate taste in men. At least Lea’s man is some type of royalty. What does Alastair have for you? Can he make you a princess?”
I cringed. “Don’t say that. That’s weird.”
Was this how girls felt when their parents confronted them about dating?
He wound us through the evening traffic, back to the airport hangar that was our temporary home.
I had asked him why we didn’t spring for a hotel, and he shrugged. “It’s easier to be near our escape route.”
I didn’t ask what we would need to escape from. There were a number of things; the bratva, the Irish, and numerous shadows that lurked in the darkness.
Brett gave me an education in the underworld. A layer of existence that I had been blissfully unaware of. There were mercenaries, weapons deals, entire industries that routinely smuggled things under the nose of border patrols. It was a business and an art form.
The entire thing reminded me of the game that was played between hackers and cyber security. We could try phishing to get passwords and other information. Then, we could try trojan horses, to poke at their defenses. We could poke and prod at their security until we found the hole in the digital wall large enough for the tiniest finger. Then, like the prisoner at the Chateau d’If, we dig until the passage is large enough to get through.
It was an ongoing game of keep-away and tag, except it was invisible.
Eoghan and his people would find our backdoor into his closed systems soon. They’d wall it up, and we’d never be able to exploit that weakness again. If we had to go after him, we’d need to find something else.
“Can you keep contact with Alastair?” Brett asked, taking me off guard.
“You want me to…”
“We need to know when Ajax can be moved. Is that something he’d be willing to tell you if you…” he paused, choosing his words carefully. “Kept in touch.”
“I don’t know.” That was the best answer I could come up with. Was the knife on my belt a sign that he wanted more? Did I want that?
Of course you do, you stupid girl.
Would love making be different in a bed, naked? Instead of rushing, with garments half un-done?
I bit my lip. Brett’s hand clenched. Was he noticing me from the corner of his eye? Did he know?
“He hurts you, and I will murder him.” His voice was heavy, as though there was a lump in his throat. “You should have told me that you knew a Green.”
“I didn’t know he was. He told me his name was Cian.”
“When?”
“At Four Green Fields.”
“Hmm,” He hummed. “He probably didn’t want to show off that he’s Alastair Green’s legacy.”
“What’s the deal with the uncle?”
“He was easily the most sadistic bastard that ever existed.” Brett’s jaw clenched. “During the Irish-Bratva war, he kidnapped the kids out of school, beat them, and hung them upside down outside of the Russian-owned factories. He did that to send a message.” He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, looking over his shoulder as he changed lanes. “My sister was one of them. Yuliya.”
I gasped.
“He was like Vlad the Impaler. He impaled our Soldiers on the walls of the docks, but kept them alive.” He shook his head. “They all died of their wounds when we got them down. Which was his intent.”
He was expressionless as he said this. But in that stillness, was great depth. Like still waters, there was turmoil under the surface, and I wondered if it was worth it to reach out and touch him. He was my Dad, after all.
But before I could think about it, we were at the hangar, parking beside the silver jet.
We stayed on cots in an empty room with woolen blankets to keep out the frosty air of the non-climate controlled space. Something in his story must have exhausted him. He didn’t want to talk, and I didn’t want to force him. He shut off the light, and we made our way to our sleeping spots by the light of our phones.
We went to our separate corners of the room, and he grunted a low, “Goodnight, Kiddo.”
