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“I’ve called our lawyer,” Co
“Why bother? We’ve got nothin’ to hide.” Uncle Sean blows a smoke ring.
“Why does it smell like smoke in here?” asks a peeler, sniffing the air.
Raising my feg, I give him a reason. But Donovan isn’t convinced. He peers into the bathtub and although he can see small specks of black ash, that doesn’t prove a thing.
“Have ya not heard? One of my men had his hand broken. Ya don’t happen to know anythin’ about that, I suppose?”
Pretending to think over his question, I eventually shake my head. “I can’t say I do.”
He knows I’m lying, but with no evidence, he’s got nothing.
The peeler won’t say what happened because he has two witnesses. If it were only me, he’d have no problem ratting me out, but my response to Babydoll has him guessing she’ll tell Donovan the truth.
“Don’tcha be going anywhere,” Donovan warns, gesturing to his men that it’s time to tear the place apart.
They start in the bedroom, and it’s wild craic knowing they’re tearing up Fiona’s love nest.
“Yer joking me? Ya think this is fu
Taking a drag of my feg, before calmly blowing it out, I reply, “Slap it up ye.”
Co
Without hesitation, I punch him square in the jaw.
His head snaps back with a crack, and when I see I’ve busted open his lip, I inhale, overjoyed.
Two birds, one stone.
“I’m going to check on the twins,” I say, butting out the feg in one of Fiona’s expensive bars of soap.
He doesn’t argue. I’ve won this war—for now.
With blood coating my knuckles, I walk past the peelers, daring them to stop me. They don’t.
The moment I’m out in the hallway, I unfasten my tie and wipe it over my knuckles, soaking up all the blood. Once I’ve got it all, I place it into my pocket, alongside the comb.
I have everything I need. Saliva. Hair. Blood.
Looks like tonight wasn’t a waste, after all.