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

by Zara Keane

  “All over the house, but I drew the line at installing them in your bedroom or the bathroom.”

  A brief silence descended as Lar registered his meaning. Then he grinned. “You sly dog. Only you could have gotten away with it. I’m paranoid about checking for shit like that.”

  “I know.” Shane cleared his throat, struggling not to laugh. “Can I also say how grateful I am that you and Gen don’t send each other naked pics? ‘Cause, seriously, I don’t think I could have dealt with that. The lovey-dovey text messages were more than enough.”

  Lar’s eyes widened and then he burst out laughing. “Crap. I didn’t even think of that. But no, we don’t do naked selfies. Gen worked in intelligence for way too long to trust the security of mobile phones.”

  “Smart woman.”

  Lar grew serious. “Does Frank know about my deal?”

  Shane shook his head, and relief flooded Lar’s face. “For what it’s worth, I’ve known about it for a couple of weeks and I haven’t said a word to Frank. And I don’t intend to.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it. I’d cope if I had to, but I’d rather not have the hassle of Frank losing his shit on me.” Lar pointed at Shane’s file. “Okay. What dirty secrets have you been keeping from me? A secret penchant for dressing up in animal costumes?”

  “No, but you’re not going to like it.” Shane opened his file and zoomed in on the scanned birth certificate.

  “Holy fuck,” Lar said after an infinite pause. “You’re my brother?”

  “Half-brother,” Shane corrected.

  “Don’t split hairs. You’re either my brother or you aren’t.” Lar’s face split into a wide grin. “That’s awesome news. Not as entertaining as you bugging my house, but I’ll take it.”

  “Wait, back up. You understood the part about your mother and Malachy doing the dirty, right?”

  “Uh-huh. At least she got some action. It’s not like Dad was faithful to her.” Lar shook his head. “Man, you get all the lucky breaks. Why couldn’t I be Malachy’s son instead of being lumbered with an eejit like Patrick?”

  “This isn’t a cause for celebration. My biological father is a priest.”

  Lar shrugged. “Shit happens.”

  “They gave me up for adoption. To Frank, the greatest arsehole in Dublin.”

  Lar considered this for a moment. “To be fair, Reuben Kowalski is a strong contender for that title.”

  Shane crossed his arms over his chest. “Why do I get the impression that you’re taking this all in your stride? Why aren’t you freaking out?”

  Lar rocked back in his chair and laughed. “Dude, my girlfriend came back from the dead; my cousin, who’s apparently my brother, has been spying on me; and our investigation into The Lucky Leprechaun has developed so many subplots that I don’t know what the fuck went on, and I was there. I gave up being serious weeks ago.”

  “Point taken.” Shane massaged the back of his neck. “The news is too fresh for me to know how I feel.”

  “I can understand that,” Lar said, eyeing him shrewdly. “I wish you’d told me what you’d dug up about my deal. I knew you were on edge about something, but you went into lockdown mode every time I tried to talk to you. I didn’t know what the hell was going on.”

  “It’s been on the tip of my tongue for weeks. I regret not punching your lights out and solving the whole problem with a fight.”

  “You have an excellent right hook. I’m glad you kept your fists and elbows to yourself.” Lar’s expression grew serious. “What’s the story with Ruthie? Why’s she been spying on us?”

  “The why part is easy. Her brother owes money to the Kowalskis, and neither Ruthie nor Kevin want Big Mike to find out about it in case he shoots the fuckers and causes a civil war.”

  “I have no objection to Big Mike shooting the Kowalskis,” Lar said dryly, “but I can see why Ruthie would like to avoid that scenario. I’m guessing the loved-up impression you two were giving tonight is at an end?”

  Shane’s heart thumped against his ribs and his jaw clenched. “Yeah. How can I trust her after this? She set me up, Lar. The whole bumping-into-me business was planned down to the last detail. All she wanted was to use me to get info about our family.”

  Lar frowned. “Who, exactly? All of us? Frank? Or the Triskelion Team?”

  “I don’t know. I threw her out and stormed around to Malachy’s before I could pump her for details.”

  “You lost your temper?” Lar whistled. “You must have been pissed. You’re the most placid of all of us.”

  “Yeah,” he muttered. “Too damn placid. And too damn trusting.”

  “Dealing with the info about me must have sucked,” Lar said. “And then Malachy and Ruthie…that’s fucked up.”

  Shane gave a bitter laugh. “You know what’s totally crazy? Finding out about Ruthie and then Malachy put the situation with you in perspective. Yeah, you should have trusted me. I understand your reasoning for not telling me, but I’m still mad as hell. But Malachy? He’s lied to me my whole life.”

  “And Ruthie?”

  His jaw clenched. “She took my heart and stomped on it. And then went back to add one of her excellent roundhouse kicks.”

  “I’m sorry about Ruthie. I thought you two were a good fit.” Lar shook his head. “And as for Malachy, I always knew he had a soft spot for you, but I thought it was because of your shared love of books. What did he say when you confronted him?”

  Shane snorted. The dissatisfaction of that encounter still rankled. “Not much. He didn’t deny it. Just made the expected excuses of wanting to protect me. Protect himself, more like. He cut the conversation short when his taxi arrived.”

  “Taxi?” Lar glanced up in surprise. “Where was he off to in the middle of the night?”

  “The airport and a conference in Switzerland.”

  Lar frowned. “He didn’t mention that to me at the party.”

  “I guess I’ll have to tackle him again when he gets back.”

  “Listen, Shane…” Lar hesitated before continuing. “I’m sorry to hit you up with yet another revelation tonight, but there’s something you should know about Malachy, Jimmy Connolly, and my—our—mother’s death.”

  “Go on. Frank is still insisting you killed Connolly, by the way.”

  His brother grimaced. “I very nearly did.”

  “Whoa, back up a sec. Why would you be stupid enough to carry out a hit in your own neighborhood?”

  Lar examined his knuckles, then focused his deep blue eyes on Shane. “Long story short, Jimmy Connolly ordered the hit on Theresa because he believed she was about to rat him out to the police about a kid he killed during a shootout. When I found out, I went ballistic.”

  Shane’s stomach lurched and a cold horror settled in his bones. “The dickhead,” he growled. “If he wasn’t already dead, I’d kill him myself. Wait…if you were going to kill him but didn’t, then who shot him?”

  Lar’s steady gaze didn’t falter. “Malachy.”

  Shane exhaled in a whoosh. “Seriously? Malachy shot a man?”

  “And not for the first time, judging by the way he handled the rifle.”

  “Malachy,” Shane said in a hard voice, “has some explaining to do when he gets back from his conference.”

  An understatement on a grand scale. Shane balled his hands into fists. If the priest didn’t cooperate, he’d pummel the information out of him.

  Lar nodded. “I agree. However, until Malachy returns, we have to concentrate on the Ruthie situation.”

  Shane swallowed hard. “We need to tell the rest of the team she’s been spying on us.”

  “I’ll call a meeting for first thing in the morning. Which—” Lar glanced at his watch, “—is in a couple of hours.”

  Shane stood. “I’ll let you sleep.”

  “Want to crash in the guest room?”

  “Thanks, but I’d better get back to Flash.”

  At the door, they circled each other warily. Finally, Sh
ane closed the gap between them and enveloped Lar in a bear hug. “Unlike those jackasses Greg and Tom, I’m proud to call you brother.”

  Lar slapped him on the back and grinned. “Right back at you. Trig and Davin are going to be stoked when they find out,” he said, referring to his older brothers. Shane’s older brothers too, it seemed.

  “Yeah. Don’t tell them yet, okay? I need to wrap my head around the situation first. And talk to Kaylee. I don’t give a shit about Greg and Tom, but I still consider her my sister.”

  “Gotcha. Deal with it in your own time.” Lar pulled a face. “Speaking of telling people stuff, if you know about my prison deal, I’d better tell Dan.”

  “Of course. You can rely on both of us to keep the information under wraps.”

  “I know. And I appreciate it.” Lar grinned. “Go get your beauty sleep, bro. I’ll see you at nine.”

  26

  When Shane took a seat at the Triskelion Team conference table at nine the next morning, his eyes felt like he’d attacked them with sandpaper. He’d spent what was left of the night tossing and turning and unable to sleep. The double whammy of discovering Ruthie’s betrayal and Malachy’s deception had left him reeling. Flash licked his hand. Shane stroked the puppy on instinct, enjoying the warmth of the dog snuggled against his chest. As if sensing his master’s distress, Flash had insisted on sleeping in Shane’s bed last night, and had accompanied him to this morning’s team meeting.

  Lar sat at the head of the conference table, twirling a pen between his fingers. A frown was etched on his forehead, and his good humor from a few hours ago was gone. “Thanks for coming in on a Sunday. Something’s come up, and I figured it was better discussed in person.”

  Gen’s expression was impassive, but when she met Shane’s gaze across the table, she gave him a reassuring smile. Lar must have told her all about Ruthie, Malachy, and the whole damn mess.

  Only Dan wore a what the hell? expression on his face. He dropped a soluble painkiller into his water glass. He looked as tired as Shane felt, with the added joy of a hangover. “It had better be important,” Dan grumbled. “I dragged my arse out bed for this meeting.”

  “And did you leave someone in that bed by any chance?” A hint of a smile played at the corners of Gen’s mouth. “Only Emma’s not answering her phone this morning.”

  Dan flushed. “I, uh…”

  So Shane hadn’t been the only member of the team to get lucky last night. He grimaced. Hopefully, Dan’s night with Emma Reilly had ended better than his had with Ruthie.

  “Oy,” Lar said, rescuing Dan from further embarrassment. “I wasn’t screwing around when I said we had an important issue to talk about this morning. Time to focus. Shane, I’ll let you start.”

  Shane blew out his cheeks. “You all know Ruthie Reynolds. And you probably guessed she and I were seeing each other.”

  “Were?” Dan interrupted with a frown. “You two looked nauseatingly happy at the party. What the hell happened?”

  What, indeed? “I caught Ruthie attempting to hack into my laptop.”

  “Whoa.” Dan’s eyebrows shot up. “Why the hell would she want to do that? Is she some kind of stalker?”

  “Worse.” Shane cuddled Flash, gaining comfort from the little dog’s presence. “Ruthie was sent to spy on us.”

  “Who by?” Gen demanded. “The Kowalskis?”

  “She says it wasn’t them, but I don’t know what to believe. Her brother owes Adam and Reuben a shit load of money.” Shane shot a glance at Lar. “Another possibility is Frank. What Lar hasn’t mentioned yet is that Frank asked me to keep tabs on Lar’s activities as part of the family ‘firm’ exit deal. It’s not a stretch to imagine him hiring Ruthie to spy on me.”

  Dan whistled. “The conniving weasel. You know he wants to send me to Berlin, right? And he’s being vague as fuck about what he wants me to do. It wouldn’t surprise me at if he’s yanking all our chains.”

  “You mentioned the Berlin business,” Shane said, “but you didn’t say when it was happening.”

  “July, allegedly, but I’m not holding my breath.” Dan pulled a face. “I think Frank likes keeping me dangling.”

  “I’m hoping it is July,” Lar interjected. “With Tammy coming to visit, I’ll be in Dublin for the entire month, but Gen and I will have to make a trip to Boston before the summer is over.”

  “Can’t Trig follow up on the information I dug up?” Shane asked. “He’s on site after all.”

  “He’s the manager of The Lucky Leprechaun now,” Lar said, “but he wasn’t working there the summer of the attack. He doesn’t know all the people involved. If Gen and I want to track down former colleagues and pump them for clues, we’re better to do it ourselves.”

  “Fair enough.” Shane’s grip tightened around his coffee cup and his stomach heaved at the thought of Ruthie. “What are we going to do about my pet spy?”

  Before anyone could answer, a rap sounded on the door and Imelda waltzed in on impossibly high heels. “You have a visitor, Shane. Ruthie Reynolds wants to see you.”

  Shane had a shrewd notion that Imelda liked to listen at doors, and the distaste with which she emphasized Ruthie’s name confirmed his suspicion. Despite her brash manner, Imelda knew how to keep her mouth shut. If she didn’t, Lar would fire her, family or not. He cast a look around the table. Dan, Lar, and Gen wore matching grim expressions. Shane tasted bile. With the memories of last night fresh in his mind—both the good ones and the bad—Ruthie was the last person he wanted to face this morning.

  With a sinking sensation, he shoved his chair back from the table. “I’ll go and see what she wants.”

  27

  The morning after Siobhan’s party, Ruthie stood on the pavement outside the Triskelion Team’s offices, staring at the door. She wiped her clammy hands on the front of her cargo pants and pressed the buzzer.

  A cheerful voice answered. “Triskelion Team Headquarters.”

  “Ah, hi. This is Ruthie Reynolds. I’d like to talk to Shane or Lar or whoever’s in.”

  An ominous silence. “Hold on a minute.” Whoever the speaker was, her friendliness vanished the moment Ruthie said her name. She blew out a sigh. What had she expected? They’d all hate her now, and it was no more than she deserved.

  The seconds passed, each one longer than the next. Finally, when Ruthie was sure she’d sweat through her T-shirt, the woman’s voice returned. “I’ll buzz you through. Take the elevator to the fourth floor.”

  Ruthie obeyed. The ride up in the elevator took forever. And then the doors slid open. Her stomach churning, Ruthie entered the reception area of the Triskelion Team’s offices.

  Her heart leaped. Shane leaned against the reception desk, talking to a dark haired girl that Ruthie recognized as Imelda, one of the many Delaney cousins. Hers, then, had been the hostile voice on the intercom.

  Pulse racing, Ruthie went up to the reception desk. “Hey.”

  Shane’s expression darkened when he saw her, and his stance radiating displeasure. “What do you want?” he demanded in a low growl. “I thought I told you to get lost.”

  “You did, but I owe you an explanation. You and your cousins.”

  The receptionist gave a derisive snort, but Ruthie ignored her. “Shane? Please. You need to hear what I have to say.”

  A muscle in his cheek flexed but he didn’t respond. After staring her down with an intensity that made her wish the floor would open and swallow her whole, he straightened and strode to a door. “Come on,” he grunted.

  He led her into an office where Lar, Dan, and Gen were seated around a glass table. They all looked up when she walked in, and their combined hostility could nuke a nation.

  Ruthie took a deep breath. “I signed a confidentiality agreement when I took the job that led me to spying on you, but I’ve decided I owe you more than I owe them, so to hell with the consequences.”

  Gen treated her to an arched eyebrow and a wintery smile. “You’d better take a seat.�
��

  Ruthie hesitated for a second before taking the only free seat left—beside Shane. He stiffened when she sat beside him, but raised no objection.

  “So,” Lar drawled. “Spill. Who hired you?”

  “An international intelligence agency,” she said without preamble. “My job was to find out what you knew about the attack on The Lucky Leprechaun five years ago and, specifically, why you were looking into it now.”

  “My brother and my cousin died in that attack,” Lar said coldly. “Isn’t that reason enough to want to know what happened?”

  “Sure, but the timing of your investigation raised alarm bells.”

  “Alarm bells? Why?” Gen demanded, peppering her with questions. “Who do you work for? Why are they so interested in us digging up the past? Do they want to stop us?”

  “I don’t know if they want to stop you.” Ruthie paused, mulling over the conversations she’d had with Travers. “I got the impression that they were concerned about what you knew. I never received instructions to disrupt your investigation.”

  “You didn’t say who hired you,” Shane muttered, avoiding eye contact. “An international intelligence agency is vague.”

  “Gen asked me a lot of questions at once,” Ruthie replied, jutting her chin in defiance. “I dealt with her questions regarding motive first.” She turned to Gen. “They call themselves the Jarvis Agency. Does the name ring any bells?”

  Gen frowned and shook her head. “No, but that isn’t surprising. There are a number of secret intelligence groups, many of which are collaborations between the intelligence services of several countries. I can call a contact and find out if he’s heard of them. How did they recruit you?”

  “I lost a fight due to a bum knee and I knew my fighting career was over.” She glanced at Shane. “No fight fixing. I lied to you about that.”

  He fixed her with a cold stare. “Indeed? What a surprise.”

  She’d expected he’d hate her, but the reality of being faced with his icy disdain hurt more than she’d anticipated. Ruthie blinked back tears and clasped her hands in her lap to stop them from shaking. When Shane had left for Australia without saying goodbye, she’d thought her heart would never mend. Sitting next to him now and witnessing how much her betrayal had hurt him was a million times worse. If she could rewind the clock and go back to that first night in Power’s Pub, she’d have spilled the whole story to him and asked for his help. Maybe he’d have cooperated and helped her feed the agency enough info to keep them satisfied, but not enough to disrupt what he and his cousins were doing. But playing the what if? game led nowhere.