Kiss Shot (Dublin Mafia: Triskelion Team, Book 2)

by Zara Keane

  Shane swallowed hard. He didn’t exactly relish the prospect of a night shift with Lar, even if they’d be taking turns sleeping. On the other hand, Lar was a tough customer and an excellent shot. If Reuben and his Rottweilers appeared, Shane was going to need all the help he could get.

  “But there’s a catch to the plan,” Lar said, “and I’m pretty sure you’re not going to like it.”

  Shane eyed his cousin warily. “Sounds ominous.”

  Lar’s pained expression didn’t alleviate his fears. “I promised Big Mike I’d track down a some guys who owe him money, and he wants me to take care of it personally. I could do with help, especially if we’re using our limited manpower to look after Kaylee.”

  Despite himself, Shane chuckled. “Setting up the Triskelion Team was supposed to free you from the need to do shitty enforcing jobs.”

  “That was the idea.” Lar screwed up his nose and sighed. “Problem is, I need to keep on Big Mike’s good side. He’s got two lucrative assignments coming up for us over the next few months.”

  Shane leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “So you’ve agreed to take this on to keep him sweet?”

  “Exactly.”

  Shane grinned. “Let me guess. Does this involve your old pal, Spoons Maginty?”

  “Yeah. And it gets better. Remember Murph and Dec from school?”

  “Jaysus, yes. I ran across those eejits just the other day. Ruthie was beating the crap out of them in Power’s Pub.”

  “I’d love to have seen that.” Lar’s smile widened. “And ‘eejits’ is the perfect description for them. Murph, Dec, and Spoons robbed a Chinese takeaway on Capel Street last night and made off with a few thousand euros. They tried to break the surveillance camera, but did a piss-poor job of it.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Shane asked dryly.

  Lar laughed. “Yeah. Typical Spoons shenanigans. Anyway, the owner of the takeaway is in debt to Big Mike, and his next payment was part of the stolen money. Once he watched the surveillance footage and recognized the culprits, he opted to call Big Mike instead of the police.”

  “Smart man. Big Mike will get results and ask no awkward questions about dodgy bookkeeping.” Shane cracked his knuckles. “When do you need me to come with you?”

  “That’s the other catch: I don’t know. I’ve got a couple of guys trailing Spoons and company to find out where they’ve stashed the loot. Once we have an idea where it is, we’ll make our move.”

  “Let me know.” Shane got to his feet and stretched. “Dan should have finished patching up Kaylee by now. I’m going to ask him to get on scheduling bodyguard rotations for Kaylee and the boys.”

  “Okay. And Shane?”

  He met his cousin’s gaze. The bemused look of a moment ago had vanished, replaced by an intense stare. “Yeah?”

  “We’re not going to let Kowalski get away with this. One way or another, he’s going down.”

  Shane’s chest tightened. “Amen to that.”

  17

  Ruthie scanned the clothing racks with distaste. Fancy department stores were her personal nemesis. They overwhelmed her with their arrays of fashionable clothes, bright makeup counters, and snobby assistants. The perfume section alone had her gagging. She glanced at her watch. Two-thirty. Jaysus. How long did it take to pick a fucking bra?

  Emma and Gen had been punctual for their shopping appointment, meeting at the entrance of the shopping center as the church bells chimed the hour. In real life, they were even more alike than in their file photographs. Both had curly blond hair, bright blue eyes, and porcelain complexions. Although Gen was a few centimeters taller than her sister, their builds were similar—slim but curvaceous.

  After greeting one another with a brief hug, the sisters made a beeline for House of Fraser. Her baseball cap pulled low, Ruthie followed them to the women’s department, but the opportunity to engineer a chance encounter was temporarily thwarted when the sisters disappeared into the changing rooms with a pile of underwear and a professional bra fitter.

  Half an hour and countless bras later, Ruthie was bored senseless. Blowing out a sigh, she rifled through a selection of tops in garish colors. She’d half hoped Shane would uninvite her to the party, just so she could wriggle out of this shopping trip, but he was determined to make up for the postponed takeout, and she needed to avail of the chance to “bump into” Gen and her sister.

  The thought of Shane brought the butterflies in her stomach to life. She’d only seen him once since what she mentally referred to as the Shower Incident. With his sister’s crisis, he’d squeezed in a short training session on Tuesday morning, and they weren’t due to meet again until tomorrow. Ruthie was counting the minutes.

  In the pocket of her cargo pants, her phone vibrated. Unknown caller. Fuck. She pressed the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

  “This is Travers.”

  Ruthie blew out a sigh. She’d been afraid of that. “Did you get my report?”

  Travers’ cold voice dripped disdain. “If you’re referring to the email you sent me last night, yes, although calling it a report is a stretch.”

  Her grip on the phone tightened and she counted to five before responding. “You asked for a report within seventy-two hours, and I obliged. What’s wrong with what I wrote?”

  “Your progress is lamentably slow. With your insider knowledge of the area and the people, I expected you to produce results faster.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Seriously? I’ve been back in Dublin a couple of weeks, and the people in question aren’t exactly my besties.” Ruthie glanced around, but no one was paying any attention. She lowered her voice. “Now’s not a good time. I’m shopping for the party I mentioned.”

  “Which isn’t until Saturday. What are you doing between now and then?”

  Jeez. What was the guy’s problem? On all her previous assignments, Travers had been a pain in the arse, but his current behavior was well into crazy territory. “Why the urgency? Has something happened?”

  He hesitated a moment too long before replying. “Just get the job done, Reynolds. You’d better produce pure fucking gold after Saturday’s party, or you’re off this assignment.”

  “You said I had until the end of the month.” Her voice rose a notch. “What’s changed?”

  “If you want us to pony up the rest of your obscene bonus, do the job we’re paying you to do.”

  She opened her mouth to respond, but he’d disconnected.

  Arsehole. He pulled that stunt every phone call. If she weren’t reliant on the money, she’d tell him and the agency to take a flying leap. Unfortunately, she needed the cash, especially since she now owed Shane two thousand euros in addition to the sum the Kowalski brothers were expecting.

  She scrunched her nose. What shades looked good on her? She hadn’t a clue. Black, white, and khaki were her faves, with the odd beige item thrown in for variety. She cast her mind back to previous neighborhood gatherings that had included Siobhan Schneider-Delaney. Siobhan was a good-looking woman with a natural sense of style that her lack of funds couldn’t dampen. She’d be dressed to the nines and expect her guests to make an effort with their appearance.

  Ruthie yanked a maroon top from a rack and held it against her chest. She pulled a face at her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. Not maroon, then. She was in the process of returning the top to its place when a familiar voice floated toward her. Ruthie froze in place. Gen and Emma exited the changing rooms and began browsing a selection of evening dresses. Her heart rate kicked up a notch. Her brief introduction to Gen at the gym the other day had given her a fleeting impression of an outwardly friendly woman with wary eyes. Gen McEllroy was no fool.

  Time to make her move. Ruthie breathed past her fears and forced her legs into motion. What better way for some girly bonding than bumping into one another while shopping for clothes? Not that Ruthie knew the first thing about fashion, but that was going to be part of her cover story.


  She grabbed a dress from a rack without checking the size and headed in the direction of the changing rooms. She charged past Emma, bumping into her and causing her to let go of the bundle of dresses she was carrying.

  Score.

  Ruthie dropped to her knees and gathered up the fallen garments. “I’m sorry. I was in another world. Here you go.” She handed the pile of clothes to Emma with a winning smile.

  The annoyance on the other woman’s face vanished. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take it as a sign that I should put a few of these dresses back. It takes me forever to decide.”

  You don’t say.

  “Hello, Ruthie.” Gen raised an inquiring eyebrow. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  “Hey, Gen.” Ruthie itched to shove her hands into her pockets to hide their shaking. On the couple of occasions she’d run into Gen McEllroy at the gym, she’d felt the force of the woman’s appraising stare. Maybe she was being paranoid, but she couldn’t shake the sensation that Gen didn’t trust her.

  Gen’s gaze dropped to the dress Ruthie was holding. “Special occasion?”

  “Ah, yeah. Shane asked me to go to Siobhan’s party.” Ruthie didn’t need to fake the flush on her cheeks. “Problem is, I have nothing to wear.”

  Gen turned to her sister. “This is Ruthie, Shane’s new girlfriend.”

  Emma whirled around to examine Ruthie. “Shane has a girlfriend? Seriously?”

  Ruthie’s throat constricted. Once upon a time, being Shane’s girlfriend had been all she’d wanted. “I wouldn’t call myself his girlfriend, exactly, but we’re…seeing each other.”

  “Ah.” Emma’s face lit up. “You’re a much better choice than the one he brought to Dan’s birthday party.”

  “This is my sister, Emma,” Gen said, giving her sibling a warning look.

  “Nice to meet you.” Ruthie schooled her expression into a friendly smile and examined Emma Reilly up close. So this was the Triskelion Team’s go-to private eye with a penchant for disguises—the agency’s files had been thorough.

  “We’re shopping for something to wear to Siobhan’s party as well,” Emma volunteered, “and then for her present.”

  “Any idea what she’s into?” Gen asked Ruthie. “I like Siobhan but I haven’t known her long.”

  “Bling,” Ruthie replied with a grin, “but tasteful stuff. Want to pool our resources and get her something nice?”

  “Sure. We can check out the jewelry section after we pick our dresses.” Gen regarded the dress in Ruthie’s hand with frank appraisal. “No offense, but that shade of pink isn’t for you.”

  She decided honesty was her best course of action. “I’m not a clothes person. As you can probably tell.” She gestured to her khaki combat pants and biker boots. “I’m totally out of my depth here. How formal is this shindig likely to be?”

  “Semiformal. Siobhan likes people to make an effort. The guys will show up in shirts and ties, and the women will wear dresses, skirts, or a nice pants suit.” Gen’s smile widened. “I have an idea. Emma is brilliant at picking out makeup, and I have a good eye for clothes. Do you want us to help you find the perfect dress?”

  “I, uh, probably could do with a bit of guidance.” “A bit” was an understatement.

  Emma gave her a once-over. “How do you feel about getting a makeover? Clothes, makeup, the works?”

  “Emma…” Gen said in a warning voice.

  “Sorry.” Emma screwed up her nose. “Am I being too direct?”

  Ruthie laughed. “Don’t worry about it. As for the makeover, my feminist side rebels, but I know I need help if I want to look the part for Siobhan’s party.” And a makeover would take a while, giving her plenty of time to get to know them. With Travers threatening to fire her, the second installment of Kevin’s debt repayment depended on the quality of her information. Thus, latching on to Gen and Emma was a smart move. They weren’t Delaneys, but Gen was directly involved in the investigation into The Lucky Leprechaun attack and a person of interest for the Jarvis Agency.

  Gen eyed her thoughtfully, making Ruthie squirm. “And what about your feminine side? Does that secretly crave pretty makeup and clothes? Even for one evening?”

  Hell, no. “All right,” she said, “do your worst. I want to look fab for Siobhan’s party.”

  “And wow Shane?” Gen raised an eyebrow and smiled. “I suspect you’ve already done that.”

  Ruthie’s cheeks grew hot. “I’m not sure.”

  Gen threw back her head and laughed. “I haven’t known Shane long, but I’m pretty good at reading people. He’s smitten with you.”

  Her stomach churned with guilt. Why hadn’t Shane been smitten with her five years ago? Why hadn’t he chased her down and asked her to run away to Australia with him? Why hadn’t she taken a leap of faith and run after him? She took a steadying breath and focused on the end goals: Kevin’s debt paid in full, and freedom for her. “Where do we start?” she asked. “Clothes or makeup?”

  “Seeing as we’re surrounded by potential outfits here,” Gen said, “let’s start with the clothes.”

  Ruthie fingered the bulge in her pocket where she’d shoved her wallet. The agency had given her a credit card to use for assignment expenses. She could afford to buy some makeup and new clothes, but she couldn’t go overboard. She smiled at the thought of the report she’d have to write in which she explained her need for lingerie and cosmetics. But that was the agency’s problem. They’d given her a job to do, and she intended to do it. If this involved kitting herself out like a cast member on a reality show, so be it. Served Travers right for being an arse to her on the phone.

  “Oh, this would look perfect on you.” Emma pulled a dress from a rack and held it up against Ruthie. The dress was a shade of dark purple with a plunging neckline and a tight skirt that ended with a playful flair.

  “I don’t think—” she began, but Emma cut short her protestations.

  “What size are you?” Emma scrutinized her figure. “We’re around the same height, but you’re skinnier than I am. A size ten, maybe?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t shopped in Ireland for years. I’m a size thirty-six in Switzerland.”

  “That’s a size ten here,” Emma said, checking the label of the purple dress. “My guess was correct.”

  Gen winked at Ruthie. “It usually is.”

  “I’m good with clothes,” Emma said with no trace of modesty. “It’s a handy trait to have in my line of work.”

  “For tracking people, you mean?” Ruthie asked, seizing on the opportunity to discuss Emma’s job. “Shane mentioned you were a private investigator.”

  “That’s right,” Emma replied cheerfully. “Creating effective disguises is part of the job. I buy clothes in various sizes in case I need to make myself heavier.” She pinched her waist. “Making myself skinnier is a no-go, unfortunately.”

  Gen snorted. “If it were that easy, Dan would be out of a job.”

  At the mention of Dan’s name, Emma turned beetroot. “I don’t think Dan’s clientele are there to lose weight.”

  “Some are,” Ruthie said. “You’d be surprised. Yeah, there’s plenty of guys who train at a boxing gym to act tough and beat the crap out of each other without the risk of sustaining a serious injury, but some guys take up boxing as part of a weight loss regime. Our area of the city is alpha male central. Many haven’t evolved enough to want to be seen dead at a fitness studio.”

  Gen nodded. “That’s true. Lar’s more evolved than most, but he prefers Dan’s place to my gym. We compromise. We go for a run together every second day, and I go with him to Schneider’s for an early morning workout a couple of times a week.”

  “I’d love to see some of your disguises some time, Emma.” The request was genuine, but Ruthie was well aware that getting friendly with Emma was a way to get friendly with Emma’s sister. For some reason, the agency was particularly interested in knowing more about Gen.

  “Sure. We’ll make that happen.�
� Emma grinned. “Now get into that dress.”

  Without waiting for Ruthie to raise another objection, Emma took her by the arm and frogmarched her into a changing cabin. After Emma had left, Ruthie wriggled out of her cargo pants and pulled off her T-shirt. On its hanger, the purple dress shimmered under the soothing lights. She fingered the silky material and slipped it free from the hanger.

  As Emma had predicted, the dress fit her like a glove. A cleverly concealed side zip meant she didn’t require assistance doing the dress up. Ruthie turned around to get a look at the dress from all angles. Her breath caught. It was like looking at a stranger in the mirror.

  “Are you decent?” Emma called through the door. “Gen’s found more dresses for you to try on.”

  “Okay, but I think you might have hit the jackpot on the first go.” Ruthie opened the door.

  Emma and Gen gasped when they saw the dress. “You look gorgeous,” Emma said.

  “Ravishing.” Gen’s smile was sly. “Shane won’t be able to keep his paws off you.”

  For the umpteenth time that day, Ruthie’s cheeks grew warm at the mention of Shane. “I’m not dressing to impress a man.”

  “Of course not,” Gen said smoothly. “But it’s an added benefit. Shane already fancies you. Seeing you in this dress will merely seal the deal.”

  “Watch out,” Emma said. “Gen was single for years before she and Lar became an item. She’s now determined to matchmake everyone else.”

  “Hey, I’ve never tried to matchmake you.” Gen regarded her little sister and laughed. “Although you could do with some help.”

  Now it was Emma’s turn to flush. “I never should have mentioned him being hot. It was a mistake.”

  “Who’s hot?” Ruthie asked, slipping out of the purple dress and trying on a black skirt and blouse combo Gen had chosen.

  Gen laughed at her sister’s red cheeks. “Dan Schneider. Emma has a crush on him.”