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I can’t deny how badly seeing her in that state made me feel. It took everything within me not to walk over and try and comfort her. Only knowing with certainty that she would reject my advances made me stop.
“Our next target doesn’t have an Oscar, but he does have enough money to buy one,” Connor is saying when I zone back into the conversation.
He’s already moved on. There’s no point bringing it back up. Not now I’ve denied having any leads on her whereabouts.
Am I a bad person for denying my friend this? Knowing that it might not be what’s best for him? If the situation was reversed, would I want him to do the same thing?
“Word has it, he’s Jack’s go-to man for imported goods,” Connor continues. “I want him dead.”
I glance at the file. This time, I blanche as I skim through it.
“This is Lars O’Neil,” I say, throwing the folder back at him. “We have half the O’Neils with us now; you really want me to put a hit out on their brother?”
Connor looks unperturbed. “If he was any good at what he did, they wouldn’t have left.”
I shake my head. “Padraic practically owns Lars O’Neil. Their alliance has always fallen heavily in the Duffys’ favor.”
“So?”
He can’t really be that shortsighted, can he?
“So,” I say as plainly as I can. “Padraic clearly has something on him.”
“Then he’s a coward. I don’t see your point, Arnold.”
“Have you not thought about how weird it is that Lars never came looking for his boys when they defected?” I point out.
Connor begins to look irritated. “Like I said, he’s a coward.”
“Would you take that kind of insult without some kind of retribution?” Before he can open his mouth to answer, I do it for him. “No, you wouldn’t. You ask any of his men what they think of him and they haven’t a bad thing to say.”
“How do you know all this?”
“I fucking listen to people when they talk to me!”
“Lars O’Neil is working for Jack Duffy. I want him gone!”
“If that’s true, he’s double-crossing Padraic,” I say firmly. “You can call him whatever you like, but that doesn’t make him a coward in my books.”
Connor stands, squaring up to me. “Don’t make me pull rank.”
“Pull rank?” I say with a bitter laugh. “I’m not some little assassin you get to order about on a whim. We are partners. This isourfamily. If you plan to do something moronic like murdering Lars fucking O’Neil, then I’m going to call you out on it.”
We stare each other down.
Connor’s anger visibly bubbles under the surface of his skin in a darkening shade of red. I can’t imagine many people have gotten away with calling Connor moronic. I realize now I’m witnessing how much he actually respects me by restraining himself from turning the verbal sparring to a physical fight.
That doesn’t stop him from priming over a dozen insults to curse me to hell and back.
I brace myself for his rebuttal.
“Take a sabbatical,” he says instead.
I frown at him. “Sorry?”
“Take. A. Sabbatical,” Connor says again through his teeth.
The surprise and the hurt hit simultaneously.
