Chasing River (Burying Water 3)

“It’s okay. I get it.”

“Tell you what. Go to Cork tonight and I’ll get Nuala or someone to cover the bar with Rowen tomorrow night and Friday afternoon. Then we can go to the Cliffs.”

Excitement stirs in my stomach. “Okay.”

“Grand. So go . . . stay in Cork tonight.” His hands find my waist and he pulls me onto him with surprising ease, tugging my leg over to straddle his, his morning erection pressing against me. My nightshirt comes off with quick, expert hands, leaving me in nothing but my panties. He pushes those aside. “But make sure you come back to me tomorrow.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

River

“Bloody perfect,” I mutter, eyeing the towering steeple and stained-glass windows on my left as I ease my car into a parking spot, the gravel crackling beneath my wheels. Leave it to Aengus and Jimmy to be hiding out on holy property. Up ahead is the grand new building that serves as the parishioners’ hall. Next to it is the old meeting place—a long, narrow ramshackle shed-like structure, no longer in use for anything but storage.

That’s where Aengus told me to meet him.

I push through the heavy wooden door. It slams shut behind me¸ trapping me in the dank, dingy space.

“River.” Aengus appears suddenly from around a stack of boxes as tall as me, a bottle of beer in hand. “What the bleeding hell happened? Jimmy just told me.”

He and Jimmy seem to be getting tighter. “Exactly what the paper said happened.”

“The old bird across the way called gardai?”

“That’s likely.” The lie is easier to deal with.

“Fuck,” he hisses, turning to spit on the ground, his saliva joining the ranks of countless others on the gritty floor. “Has that cocksucker been back again?”

When I first called Aengus to deliver the warning from Duffy, he flew off the handle, a string of foul language that could strike a nun dead tumbling out of his mouth.

“No. And I think you should be a little grateful to him for the warning. If not for that, you could have been shot dead on our doorstep.”

He twists his thin lips, not wanting to give me the satisfaction of being right, even though that pea-sized brain of his knows I am.

“Come on.” He leads me around the bend and into a dim rectangle of a room, which houses a small table on the far side, with four men sitting at it. I try to ignore them, letting my eyes roam the drab brown panel walls, the stained brown carpet, the hard brown plastic cafeteria chairs.

Brown, brown, brown.

“Cozy.” I want to leave now.

“I’ve had worse,” he mutters, a wry smile curling his thin lips. “Besides, it’s safe here.” He takes another sip.

“It’s noon on a Wednesday, Aengus.” I flick the bottle. “Take a break.”

He ignores me.

“Who do you think told Duffy about the Green anyway?”

“Probably one of Beznick’s guy. Or Beznick, himself. That’s the only person I can think of.” His eyes search the floor as he combs his thoughts. “Though very few people know it was me. You, me. Jimmy, and he’s not gonna say a thing.”

Unless he’s braggin’, which he’s been known to do.

“The security guard at the Green, but he’s Jimmy’s cousin. And Bobby made the device.”

My eyes flicker over to the squat man, his face sallow, his balding head hiding beneath a cap. He went away the same time we did. I always thought that he knew far too much about explosives.

“That’s it, I think.” He pauses. “Other than the American.”

“I told you, she was in shock. And she wouldn’t have even seen ya.”

“But she saw you.”

“No way.”

Aengus rubs his brow. “Well then I don’t know.”

The heavy door slams and a few moments later, Jimmy rounds the corner with another guy who I’ve never seen before. Jimmy’s eyes land on us immediately. With a wave to the other guy, he heads straight for us. “River. Good to see you. What do we owe this visit to?”

“Just checking in on my brother.”

He takes a deep breath but otherwise shows no sign of deep concern. “Aengus told me that garda came to Delaney’s. You handled it well.”

I shrug. “I had nothing to tell them.”

“Right. Why don’t you come and sit. Have a beer.”

“I’ve got to get to the pub. But thanks,” I add begrudgingly.

“We’ll keep an eye out, make sure he’s safe. We won’t let those bastards do anything to him.” He pats my shoulder, like we’re buddies and he’d be more than happy to help me out. That’s how Jimmy works. You’re a sparkle in his eye as long as he needs you for something, but he’ll turn on you the second it pays to do so. I’ll give Aengus one piece of credit—he’s always been nothing but loyal.

“And Aengus . . . lay off this.” I flick the bottle. “You need to be alert.” As much as my brother pisses me off, I don’t want to be burying him anytime soon. “See ya.” I pass the guy Jimmy came in with on my way out. He nods at me, giving me a good look at the line bisecting his black shaved hairline.

That’s the guy that Francis O’Reilly—my favorite regular—was talking about.

And now I know.

Fucking Jimmy isn’t just extorting Dublin’s gangs. He’s also going after innocent business owners. My feet slow to a stop in front of the man.

“Yeah?” he says in a deep, raspy voice, rolling his shoulders back.

There’s no point in starting something here. Even simple accusations can get you killed with these kinds of fellas. But it makes me sick, just knowing that this piece of shit has threatened Francis, and his lovely wife, and their children.

Does Aengus truly not realize what’s going on? If he does . . . well then, he deserves whatever’s coming to him. I just don’t want to be dragged down with him.

I shove the heavy door open, my teeth gritted, promising myself that this is it.

No more visits.

No more warning calls.

I’m done protecting Aengus.

“It’s so charming here,” Amber purrs into my ear. It’s just after eleven and we finally got the last customer out. I’m sure she’s in bed.

“I know it is. I wish I were there with you.”

“I kissed the Blarney Stone.”

“Tourist,” I accuse with a grin. “And how was that experience?”

“Kind of dirty. I wiped my lips right after.” She giggles. “And the little inn that I’m staying in is adorable. The pathway up to the door is lined with rosebushes, and the lady who runs it serves scones in the morning. Everyone here sounds so different from you.”

“That’s because they’re from the south. See? I told you it was a good idea.”

“I know it was. It’s just . . .” Silence hangs over the phone.

“I know. But we still have tomorrow, Friday, and Saturday.” And if I let myself think I’m ever going to see her again after Sunday, once distance and time has woven its magic, I’m as big an idiot as the rest of them. But at least I got this much, which is more than I deserved. “Listen, you going to be up for a while? We’re going to finish closing here. I should be home in an hour.”