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Taylor thought there might be some who didn’t want to say. Malcolm would be even more feared after Liam’s arrest. People would wonder if speaking against him would ensure they were the next target. He could turn anything that was said against him into hate speech, couldn’t he?
That jogged her mind. She needed to work that idea into her design.
Her plan was to do the mural tonight. The time frame would be tight, and it would involve some sneaking around—especially since she’d have to walk to the village in the dark to pick up the car she’d had the rental company drop off—but she would manage it. Once she had the car, she would come back for her suitcases, packed with spray paint only this time. Her clothes were all in her carry-on.
Arthur picked up a scone and tapped it on the table, considering the boards. “After we have the companies and the photos sorted, we’ll need to cross-reference the names. Our best way to take Malcolm down will be there. We find where he’s in business with someone in the government, and then we look into the financing.”
“Hoping the numbers don’t match,” Connor added, steepling his fingers. “Most government people are too filled with the hubris of their power to check to make sure no one’s skimming from their investment.”
“Aren’t those investments a conflict of interest?” Flynn asked.
Quinn, Connor, and even Trevor shook their heads and groaned. J.T. only threw a scone at him. “Star student? This is why we put you in tech and not a head office job.”
Flynn flipped them the finger. “You’ll be eating those words when I use my hacking skills to find the evidence we need. Anyone want to bet against me?”
The hacking comment had Taylor’s pulse skittering, but she was glad he was using it to help Liam and not look into Veritas. She would make sure it stayed that way.
“Enough playing around,” Clara announced, standing up. Eoghan stood with her and took her arm. “We all have our assignments. Eoghan and I are going to do ours in the library where there’s a fire. Arthur, where do we find these photos?”
He sputtered, “Wife, you need a couple of laptops and then some good internet searching. I would start by typing in Malcolm Coveney and see what hits. When you both finish about a hundred articles apiece, we’ll start on the next search, like Malcolm Coveney business investors—”
“Fine.” She cast him a baleful glance, which he returned with a bark of laughter. “You’ve made your point. Trevor, can you find us laptops?”
“Sure thing,” the man said, rising from the adjoining table. “Anyone else need one? Con? I know you don’t use one much anymore.”
His brother cracked his knuckles. “Ten grand says I come in before Flynn here in finding the evidence we need.”
“Ouch, Con.” Flynn made a show of creating—and then breaking—a heart with his widespread hands before he opened his laptop. “I thought you knew no one can beat me.”
“You’re about to go down, baby brother,” Connor said, “only don’t tell Louisa I said that.”
Everyone laughed, including Clara as she and Eoghan left the room with Trevor.
“I don’t understand,” she whispered to J.T.
“His wife Louisa runs a homeless shelter and puts up an inspirational note every day,” J.T. answered, powering up his own machine. “She’s the soul of positivity, and she’d probably fry him for baiting Flynn and betting against him like that. But we’re brothers. It’s how we are.”
Liam had probably had interactions like this with two older brothers, right? Except he wasn’t a fighter. A warrior, sure, of sorts, the kind who would come to her rescue.
Her mind was suddenly filled with him, and she swore she could even smell him. It wasn’t the first time it had happened since he was taken—there’d been a couple of moments when she could have sworn he was touching her. A cool peace would come over her, and she’dfeelhim telling her he was all right. Maybe she’d drunk the Kool-Aid, but she was happy for it. God, she missed him. She took a deep breath and told her mind to clear as she pulled out her laptop. Thinking about him would only be a distraction.
“You okay?”
She looked over to see J.T. watching her with compassion. “Yes. Focusing. Arthur, I need my names. Maybe I’ll be the one to kick Flynn’s butt.”
The Merriam men and Arthur looked over at her while Francesca whistled softly. “Oh, I like you! Taylor, you can sit at my table. We’ll show these boys who runs the world.”
“What about me?” Quinn asked, waggling his brows. “You think you can beat me, babe? How about a private bet to make things interesting?”
She walked over and plopped the thick report in his lap with a laugh. “Maybe. Get cracking,babe.”
They hunkered down, punching keys as Aileen served them dinner—one Taylor wished she could taste as the venison, roasted carrots, and mashed potatoes looked delicious. Arthur took a break a few times after offering everyone his favorite red hot candy, his hip clearly bothering him from sitting too long. Taylor rolled her aching shoulders, fighting off fatigue, with the taste of cinnamon fire in her mouth.
The companies were a maze of names and locations, but she looked a little deeper into ones whose parent companies were in the most notorious countries. She was clicking on a company in Malta that had her gut twitching when someone tapped her on the shoulder.
“I’m calling it,” Arthur said, the wrinkles around his face more stark than usual, although he had a large smile on his face. “A good reporter knows when to call it a night. I know you want to argue with me, my dear, but I promise you. Fatigue makes you miss things, and we can’t afford that. We’ll do a roundup in the morning. Come on, you can walk this old man to the back door. Clara told me she was leaving when I took my last break.”
She stood, taking his arm as J.T. rose with them, saying, “It’s frigid as hell outside, Uncle. You should put a coat on.”
