by Zara Keane
“Now is not the moment for doubts,” Travers said, as though reading her thoughts. “I realize that Shane Delaney is your friend, but you’re not in Dublin to reconnect with him for old times’ sake. You have an assignment—an assignment for which you’re being well compensated to perform.”
Damn the man for his perceptiveness. Of course it was the idea of straying too far into the personal that had activated her mental brakes.
“The practice of limiting the information shared with agents is ridiculous. How am I supposed to do my job if the agency isn’t prepared to let me decide what is relevant and what isn’t?”
“As I said, we provided you with the details we felt were relevant at the time. Given the change in our timeline, we decided it was necessary to give you more details on two members of the Delaney family. Perhaps you’ll find the added information useful, especially if you’re willing to play dirty.”
Ruthie’s limbs turned numb and her grip on the phone tightened. Playing dirty was the last thing she wanted to do, especially with people she knew and cared about. “If I come up with the goods before I leave, will you pay the bonus? No dicking me around, Travers. I want the full amount.”
“If…and only if…you return with solid gold intel, the bonus is yours. Otherwise, you’ll be paid your regular salary plus expenses.”
Ruthie gut twisted. The memory of Kevin in Reuben Kowalski’s warehouse played back like an old film reel. “I can do it,” she said with a conviction she didn’t feel. “I’ll see you on Tuesday.”
19
Flash leaned his head to the side and howled.
“Jaysus.” Shane winced from the high-pitched sound. “Stop making that racket. You’ll have the neighbors banging on the door and complaining to the landlord. I can’t afford to get kicked out until I’ve got a house lined up for us.”
He’d made an unsuccessful attempt to foist the dog onto Kaylee, but she’d been adamant that she had enough on her plate without adding a wild puppy to the mix. Shane couldn’t blame her. He’d taken Flash down to the house in Wicklow the day Kaylee and the boys had moved in. Flash had wasted no time in leaving his imprint on the house. Literally. In addition to eating Kaylee’s best knickers, the puppy had chewed through the TV cable, pissed on the kitchen floor, and identified Lar’s boots as weapons of mass destruction.
Despite the chaos he brought in his wake, Shane had been relieved when Kaylee had turned his offer down. He’d grown fond of the puppy. As well as the basics he’d purchased on the day he’d first brought Flash home, Shane had added a selection of toys, prompting Lar to accuse him of spoiling the dog. Speaking of which…he reached into the toy basket and selected a yellow duck. Maybe a plaything would help the puppy forget his grievance. “Here you go.”
Flash gave the toy a baleful stare but made no move to take it. Instead, he pawed Shane’s leg plaintively and resumed his howling.
With a sigh, Shane sat on the floor and gathered the puppy into his arms. Flash whimpered, and snuggled in for a cuddle. “I know you don’t like being cooped up in here alone, mate, but I can’t take you with me. Not tonight. I’ve got to go out with Lar.”
His cousin had texted earlier to say the job for Big Mike was on that evening. Now that none of them needed to do bodyguard duty for Kaylee, they were making a conscious effort to go about their business as usual, especially with Reuben’s guys tailing their every move.
Dan had worked fast. Within hours of Shane and Kaylee’s visit to the Triskelion Team offices, he’d set up a team of bodyguards to watch over Kaylee and the boys, thus eliminating the need for Shane and his cousins to go back and forth to Wicklow. Once the bodyguards took over, Shane, Lar, and Dan had agreed to stay away from the cottage unless there was an urgent reason for them to visit. No point in going to all the trouble of getting Kaylee and the kids bodyguards if they were going to lead Reuben directly to the safe house.
Shane’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He slipped it free and groaned when he glanced at the display. He hit Connect. “Hey, Greg. What’s up?”
His older brother didn’t waste time on small talk. “Did you know Kaylee’s done a runner with the boys? Reuben’s calling by the club every day, throwing his weight around and breathing down our necks.”
“One of his goons barged into the Triskelion Team’s offices yesterday demanding to know where Kaylee and the boys were, and I’m pretty sure they broke into my apartment.” Shane had expected nothing less and had prepared accordingly. Apart from conducting a thorough search that yielded no information on Kaylee’s whereabouts, Reuben’s guys had left both the apartment and Shane’s belongings unscathed.
“Do you know where Kaylee is?” Greg demanded. “Dad’s losing his shit.”
Shane clenched his jaw. He’d a fair idea of what was upsetting Frank, and it wasn’t likely to be his estranged daughter leaving her brute of a husband. Their father liked to be left in peace to conduct his dirty wheelings and dealings. Reuben Kowalski barging into the club and scaring off the customers wouldn’t suit Frank. “I don’t know where she is,” he lied, “but I don’t blame her for leaving Kowalski.”
Greg grunted. “Even if you did know where she was, you wouldn’t tell me. I’m just calling you because Dad told me to. If you do talk to Kaylee, tell her to stay the fuck away from Dublin. Better yet, tell her to get out of Ireland.”
So the man wasn’t as stupid as he looked. Getting Kaylee and the boys out of the country was the first thing they’d considered, but Kaylee had refused. She wanted Reuben off her back, but she had no desire to live the life of a fugitive.
“How’s tricks?” Shane asked, keen to change the subject. “Olga said you were moving in together.”
“Yeah, right.” His brother gave a snort. “Stupid bitch is deluding herself.”
In other words, Greg’s short attention span had moved on to another woman before he’d gotten as far as sealing the deal with Olga. Poor kid had bleached her arse for nothing. On the plus side, she’d had a lucky escape, even if she didn’t realize it now.
“If you hear from Kaylee, let us know,” Greg said. “I mean it, Shane. No fucking us around. Kowalski’s spoiling for a fight, and we don’t want his stench in the club. Maybe Dad can fix her and the kids up with fake passports or something.”
It was the “or something” part that worried Shane. Frank looked out for Frank. If Kowalski exerted enough pressure on him, Shane wouldn’t put it past their father to grass on his own daughter. “Sure,” he lied. “I’ll give you a bell if I hear anything.”
He disconnected and slipped the phone back into his pocket. Flash’s large eyes stared up at him, the dog begging not to be left alone. Shane rubbed the back of his neck. If the dog howled down the building, his landlord would be on the doorstep pronto. With all the shit going down with Kaylee and Lar, he hadn’t had a chance to look at houses. Unless he fancied kipping on a camp bed at the office, he needed to keep this place for a while longer. “All right, mate, you can come. You’ll have to stay in the car and no howling.”
Flash barked and licked Shane’s nose, making him laugh. “Steady on. Let’s get you into your cage and we’ll get going.”
In the hallway, Shane shrugged into his leather jacket. He caught sight of his reflection in the hall mirror. Man, he looked like hell. Had the shadows under his eyes reproduced since yesterday? He rubbed his jaw and read weariness in his eyes. Working two jobs was taking its toll, sure, and the stress over Lar and Kaylee wasn’t helping. He flexed his stiff neck from side to side, then checked his pistol and ammo. Where he and Lar were headed, going in armed was smart, but he hated carrying. Always had. He grinned at his reflection. Given the Delaney penchant for weapons, he must have rogue genes somewhere in the mix.
When Shane left his building, the bells of St. Patrick’s Church chimed in the distance. Ten o’clock. The night was cool with the barest hint of rain. Shane walked the short distance to the Triskelion Team’s offices, carrying Flash’s cage.
; Lar stood at the entrance, his car key in his hand. His jaw dropped when he saw the dog. “You have got to be kidding. No fucking way are we bringing that mongrel.”
“Speak for yourself,” Shane said cheerfully. “Besides, Flash might come in useful.”
Lar’s eyebrows shot up. “How? By pissing on the cash we’re supposed to retrieve? Yeah, Big Mike would love that.”
“It’ll be grand,” Shane said, putting Flash’s cage in the back of the car. “I can’t leave him at home. He howls the place down.”
“I’ll howl him down,” Lar muttered and slid behind the wheel. “I swear, Shane, if he fucks up this job—”
“He won’t,” Shane said, an edge of steel to his voice. “If you want my help, Flash is part of the deal.”
“Jaysus, man.” Lar flexed his shoulders. “We’ll be a laughing stock. We’ve got a reputation to live down to.”
Shane rolled his eyes. “We’re going after Spoons, Murph, and Dec. They’re not exactly master criminals. I don’t see how Flash can mess that up.”
Lar cast a dark look over his shoulder in the direction of the backseat. “That beast wrecked a pair of steel-toed boots. I wouldn’t put anything past him.”
“I’ll buy you new ones. Don’t get your knickers in a twist.”
Muttering about demon dogs under his breath, Lar drove to a back alley in one of the seediest parts of the city. A group of cut-rate prostitutes huddled on a street corner, sharing a spliff. One raised an eyebrow when the car cruised past, but they shook their heads.
“Fucking hell.” Lar gestured to the half-hearted graffiti on a boarded-up shop. “Even the graffiti artists have given up on this part of town.”
“Whose genius idea was it to stash the cash here?” Shane asked.
“Who knows? Between them, Spoons, Murph, and Dec might figure out how to change a light bulb. Pity we can’t say the same for their common sense.”
Lar pulled up at the end of a lane and killed the engine. “This is the place.”
It was dark and deserted with only one functioning light to illuminate the entire lane.
“Lovely location,” Shane said. “It’s the sort of hovel I’d expect to find Spoons wanking in.”
Lar shuddered. “Don’t start. I’ve seen more of that man than I ever wanted to.”
The instant Shane opened the passenger side door, Flash began to bark. Shane leaned into the back of the car and loosened the lid of the puppy’s cage. He offered him a doggie treat, but the puppy only ceased barking long enough to swallow it in one. “Fuck. I guess we’ll have to bring him with us.”
Lar stared at him, open-mouthed. “Are you mad? We are not bringing that hairball anywhere.”
“Cheer up, cuz. Maybe he can sniff out our prey.” It was childish, but seeing his cool-as-a-cucumber cousin irritated was amusing the hell out of him.
“He’s not a fucking bloodhound,” Lar snapped. “Besides, anyone can smell Spoons from a mile off. We don’t need help.”
“If we leave him in the car, his barking will alert them that they have company.”
“There’s got to be other dogs in the neighborhood,” Lar muttered. “For all Spoons and his pals know, it’s just a random dog freaking out.”
“Ah, well,” Shane said, stepping out of the car. “If you want to take the risk, it’s on your head.” Yeah, he was enjoying watching Lar squirm. If he wasn’t in a position to confront his cousin, he’d take his pleasures where he could.
The instant Shane shut the car door, Flash’s howls increased to an ear-splitting volume.
“Fuck,” Lar muttered. “How do we shut him up? A doggie treat?”
Shane rocked back on the balls of his feet and grinned at his cousin. “I tried that trick. It worked…for about five seconds.”
Lar rubbed his jaw and scanned the lane. “Spoons and the boys are holed in one of these garages. Last my man saw, they were counting the money.”
“Spoons can count?”
This elicited a small smile from his cousin. “When he’s sober. Which is never.”
Flash added an ear-splitting whine to his repertoire.
Lar sighed. “All right. We’d better take your daft dog with us before he rouses the neighborhood nuts and their shotguns.”
Shane opened the back door for Flash. The dog leaped out of the car and performed a mad dance around Shane’s ankles. When he clipped on the puppy’s lead, Flash took off into the lane.
“Where does he think he’s going?” Lar asked, shaking his head. “Puppy all-you-can-eat?”
“I dunno,” Shane said. “He acts like this when he smells food.”
“What’s he going to find in a dingy lane? Roadkill?”
“Come on, you. Stop bellyaching. We have three eejits to apprehend.”
Grumbling, Lar followed him into the lane. “I don’t know what your problem is, You’ve been a grouch these last couple of weeks.”
“I’m a grouch? You’ve just spent the last ten minutes bitching about my dog.”
“Ah, come on, Shane. You’ve got an edge to your tone that didn’t use to be there. What the hell is going on?”
“You want to have this conversation now?” Shane asked. “Seriously? We’re in the middle of a fucking raid, man.”
Lar hunched his shoulders to ward off the chill night air. “With that damn dog along, the raid’s going to go tits up. I’ve got nothing to lose by bringing this up now. When else have I seen you on your own recently? The night at the cottage, you acted like I had Ebola.”
“I’ve got stuff on my mind.” This, at least, was true.
“What’s up with you these days?” Lar demanded. “You’ve been narky for weeks, but never with Dan. Is it because of Gen?”
“Don’t be daft. I told you I don’t have a problem with Gen. I don’t know her very well, but she seems grand.”
Lar frowned, skepticism rolling off him in waves. “We used to hang out a lot more than we do at the moment, and it started around the time Gen moved in with me.”
“There you go. You’re the one who’s been busy.”
“Yeah, but every time I suggest we go out for a drink, you shoot me down.”
“Just drop it, Lar. Which one of these garages is Spoons in?”
“Fuck Spoons. Fuck Big Mike and his money. I’m not going to drop it. You’ve had a bug up your arse for weeks, and I want to know what it’s about.”
They both stopped and glared at one another for a long moment.
Lar softened his tone. “Come on, Shane. I’ve known you my whole life. Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?”
Shane made to move past him, but Lar blocked his path. Shane knocked his hand away. “You really don’t want to do that.”
“Talk to me. What’s going on? Is it this Ruthie person?”
“‘This Ruthie person’ happens to be Big Mike’s daughter.”
“I don’t give a crap who she is if she’s upsetting you. But here’s the thing—you’ve had a shitty attitude for weeks, so this can’t just be about her. Look, I know you’re a private person and don’t like to talk about your feelings—”
This made Shane laugh. “Do any of the men in our family talk about our feelings?”
“With great difficulty,” Lar said with a grin. “But I’m talking about you. Look, I have vouchers for a weekend at a spa hotel. Why don’t you join me and Gen and invite Ruthie?”
“You want to go to a spa hotel?” Shane snorted. “This was Gen’s idea, wasn’t it?”
Lar reddened. “Well, yeah. She’d like to get to know you better, and she’s noticed the tension between us. She thought—we both thought—a weekend away would be fun.”
Under different circumstances, Shane would have jumped at the chance, but as things stood, the last thing he wanted to do was spend a weekend cooped up with Lar.
“Come on, Shane. I’m trying to do you a good turn, you eejit. With all the stress over Kaylee, I figure you could use a break. I know I could. We’ve been working fl
at out for months.”
At that moment, standing under the shitty half-light of a streetlamp, all the anger that had accumulated over the last few weeks bubbled to the surface. Shane’s fingers curled into fists and he struggled to breathe. He wanted to hit Lar and keep on swinging. He wanted to tell him what a prick he was for not confiding in Shane years ago. He wanted…
An insistent bark shattered the moment. Shane wrenched his attention away from his cousin and focused on Flash. The dog pawed at a garage door. Shane dragged oxygen into his lungs. “I’m guessing that’s where we’ll find Spoons.”
In an instant, Lar was all business. He produced a Swiss army knife from his pocket and picked the garage lock. Then he nodded to Shane and swung it open.
Inside, the place stank of bad Chinese takeout, beer, and piss. Spoons was slumped on a mattress, a beer in one grubby hand and a wad of cash in the other. He peered at them from under a fringe of greasy hair. “What the devil are you doing here?”
Flash skidded over the floor, his barking fit loud enough to wake the dead.
“Get out,” Spoons yowled before hurling the wad of cash at the dog. The man stared at his empty hand, then at the one clutching the beer can. “Well, feck.”
“Wrong hand?” Lar asked, scooping up the fallen cash.
“I’ve a better throw with my right hand,” Spoons whined. “Now look what you’ve made me do.”
“From what Lar’s told me, your right hand gets a regular workout,” Shane said, deadpan.
Spoons squinted at him. “Who the feck are you? Wait…ah, hell. You’re another Delaney. Plague of my life, you lot are. Can’t you leave a man in peace?”
“Not when you owe Big Mike money.” Lar opened a rickety chest of drawers and rifled through it. “Where’s the rest of the loot?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Spoons said with dignity. “There’s nothing in them drawers. And Big Mike can feck off. I paid him off weeks ago.” He shot Lar a dark look. “You saw to that.”