Mob Bride (The O’Rourke Brotherhood #5)

Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

Shane

I’ve been arrested before.

I doubt Carrie has, and that makes me more anxious than anything these fuck faces can do to me. I pray having been on the other side of this, Carrie remembers all the things that annoyed her as a law enforcement officer with recalcitrant suspects or witnesses and employs every one of them now. I don’t doubt she intends to remain silent, but I know they trained her to wheedle info out of people. I don’t want her to fall victim to the same tactics.

The two up front keep droning on about how my cooperation will make things go faster. That it’ll be better for Carrie and my family if I answer their questions. Not a flying fucking chance on the hottest day in hell.

My family’s trained me for these situations since I was five. Never talk to strangers. Never talk to anyone who shows me something shiny. Never talk to anyone who asks about my parents, grandfather, or aunts and uncles. Now Grandda isn’t an issue, but my brothers and cousins are a concern. The rules remain the same.

The car I’m in pulls abreast of Carrie’s. They’re making sure we see each other. They want guilt to push either or both of us to confess. From Carrie’s expression, I know it’s done the opposite. It strengthens her resolve. Her lips don’t move even when I see Angela twist to look back at her. Carrie just looks ahead.

“You’re going to bring down an agent who was well on her way to a supervisory position. You’re ruining her career.”

It’s the driver who states the obvious. Where was he weeks ago when all of this started? Not that it would’ve changed anything, but he wouldn’t be spelling it out like I’m an idiot. There’s no going back from this. Whether Carrie and I are together is moot. Her career is done.

It means she’ll need protection for the rest of her life, regardless of her relationship with me. If the feds have come after her once, they’ll keep coming back. I could never see her again, and they’d still believe there’s information she could share. If nothing else, they’ll want to keep punishing her.

Cormac, Seamus, and Dillan are waiting for us when we pull into the underground parking structure. The agents aren’t gentle with Sean and me, but Angela’s more careful with Carrie. That’s until Cormac goes to her side, Dillan comes to mine, and Seamus goes to Sean.

“All of you, move out of the way.” The guy who drove the car I was in tries to muscle past Dillan.

“We’re not in the way.” Dillan goads them by opening the door and holding it until everyone walks through.

“You can’t intimidate us.” Steve doesn’t sound as confident as he wants.

My cousins merely smile. It’s disconcerting as fuck if you aren’t used to it. When the agents look at Sean and me, it really throws them for a loop. We cock opposite eyebrows—a trick we trained ourselves to do when we were eight. I raise my right one when he raises his left. When we stand in front of each other and do it, we’re mirror images. When we stand side-by-side, like we are now, it makes our faces blend even more.

I “accidentally” step on the guy’s foot who rode in the passenger seat of my car. I move myself as though I try to make more space on the elevator for everyone else. Instead, I position myself, so I’m standing behind Carrie. As people shuffle on, she steps back. Her shoulders bump against my chest.

We’re not in handcuffs, so we brush our hands against each other’s. I link our pinkies, and she curls hers around mine. I sweep my gaze around the elevator, looking where the walls meet the ceiling, then across the ceiling.

“ An gceapann tú go bhfuil sé glan ?” Do you think it’s clean?

I want to know if the others spotted any cameras in here. Seamus responds first.

“ Ní fheicim tada. Aon duine eile ?” I don’t see anything. Anyone else?

“Enough conspiring.”

It’s an agent who manhandled Sean. I stare at him, and he senses me because he shifts to look at me. I memorize his face. I see the moment he realizes just how greatly he erred. It won’t be today. It won’t be tomorrow. It won’t even be in a month. It’ll be when he grows complacent. When he thinks I’ve forgotten about him. That’s when I’ll strike. No one touches my baby brother.

“ Má thagann sé chuici, fanann sibh go léir léi .” If it comes to it, all of you stay with her.

Sean looks at me, and we smile. It unnerves all the agents, especially when he sounds exactly like I just did.

“ Beidh mo chúpla agus mé go breá. Cosain mo dheirfiúr .” My twin and I’ll be fine. Protect my sister.

No one but my family sees my relief. They accept Carrie because she’s important to me. But I just got their blessing. They’d never stand in our way if we get more serious, and they’d want us to be happy. This is different. They consider her one of us already. When they protect her, it’s not out of duty because she’s a woman or out of obligation to me. It’s because she’s family.

“Speak English.” It’s the driver from my car.

I squeeze Carrie’s pinky again, as the men in my family and I laugh.

“ Is dóigh liom go bhfuil muid ag cur brú orthu .” I think we’re pissing them off.

Cormac’s dry tone only adds to the agents’ annoyance since none of them understand us. This is precisely the reason my family speaks Gaelic and will continue to speak it for as long as we’re in the mob. That means every generation until the Rapture.

We all speak Spanish, which isn’t questionable in NYC. Everyone here speaks at least a little Spanish and a healthy dose of Yiddish. But we went way beyond that. All of us speak additional languages. We’re all close to fluent in Italian and Russian. We’ve added Hebrew, Chinese, Arabic, Polish, Albanian, Japanese, and German to our family repertoire. All the places we either do business or give us trouble.

Sean learned French because of a girl he liked. She dumped his arse for being evasive, uncommunicative, and unemotional. Shocking. He still enjoys those shitty arthouse films, though. Nikki claims she likes them. I think he tortures her with them since she’s a native French speaker.

Sean beats me to it with his next question. “ An bhfuil a fhios ag ár dtuismitheoirí ?” Do our parents know?

Seamus grins, and now all the agents are certain we’re conspiring or criminally insane. “ Bhí mé le Mam agus Da nuair a fuair muid an foláireamh. Bhí Da ar an bhfón le do cheann. Fuair sé an foláireamh freisin. D’iompaigh sé amach. Tá ár n-aithreacha ag glaoch i bhfabhar. Tá ár uncail eile ag dul chuig a tuismitheoirí .” I was with Mom and Da when we got the alert. Da was on the phone with yours. He got the alert, too. He flipped out. Our dads are calling in favors. Our other uncle’s going to her parents.

The non-Gaelic speakers probably picked up Mam and Da—we usually use Mom, but in Irish, it translates to Mam—and figured out we’re talking about our parents, or at least Seamus and Cormac’s. “Our other uncle” means Dillan’s dad, Uncle Tate.

Calling in favors means these wankers are going to be riding their desks or unemployed by morning. I’d feel sorry for them if they hadn’t touched my woman and my brother.

Carrie leans harder against me. I know not understanding bothers her. Probably frightens her more than anything, but it’s the only way my cousins, Sean, and I can communicate right now.

“ Is dócha go bhfaighidh muid saor í roimh ceachtar agaibh. Cad ba mhaith leat dúinn a dhéanamh ?” We’ll probably get her free before either of you. What do you want us to do?

Dillan has a point. Even though they claim they’re after her, once they have two mobsters in for questioning, they won’t let us go. They’ll hold us for the full forty-eight hours. They might do the same to Carrie, but I don’t think so. I believe they’ll want to see where she goes next. Somehow, they knew she was with me at my place. My guess is they followed Meredith and Rhys or tracked their cars. When they went to Sean’s, they figured she was there too. When everyone else left, but they didn’t see me, it probably confirmed she and I were staying at Sean’s.

“ Rwyf am i chi fynd at fy rhieni .” I want you to go to my parents.

My accent is atrocious, but from the way Carrie tenses, then relaxes against me, I know she understood. I told no one I started learning a little Welsh when I met her. I needed something to occupy my time while I watched her. When she said she spoke it as a kid, I doubled my efforts.

“ Nid yw hynny'n ddiogel iddynt .” That’s not safe for them.

She speaks slowly, ensuring I can follow what she says.

“ Maen nhw'n gwybod mai dyna sydd fwyaf diogel i mi .” They know that’s safest for me.

I won’t lose my shite if I know she’s with them.

I’m confident with my grammar, but I don’t know if she can understand my shite accent. I thought about investing in a decent language program, but I’m nearly as frugal as Finn. If this doesn’t work out, then I’d rather use YouTube videos to teach me a language I won’t need.

Because little brothers are a pain in the arse, Sean snickers at me. “ Tú asal saor. Fuaimeann tú cosúil le cac. íocfaidh mé as do chlár ríomhaire dúr don Nollaig .” You cheap arse. You sound like shite. I'll pay for your stupid computer program for Christmas.

“ Conas a bheadh a fhios agat ?” How would you know?

I sound more contentious than I mean.

“ Toisc go bhfuil cluasa agam .” Because I have ears.

We’re teasing each other, but Sean sounds as argumentative as I do. It’s a simple ruse. Let them think we don’t agree about whatever they assume we were plotting. They’ll try to leverage that between Sean and me. They’ll try to drill a hole in our family armor, which means they won’t focus on Carrie. They’ll think they can go after something bigger. When they do that, my brother and cousins know I won’t risk telling lies that don’t match Carrie’s.

Dillan chimes in just like he always has, especially when Sean and I really disagree. “ Tá sé ag iarraidh dul i bhfeidhm uirthi. Is léir go gcaithfidh sé cúiteamh a dhéanamh as rud éigin má tá sé ag déanamh iarrachta chomh dian sin .” He’s trying to impress her. Clearly, he needs to make up for something if he’s trying that hard.

“ B'fhéidir gurb é an t-aon rud atá deacair ?” Could it be the only thing that’s hard?

Cormac isn’t one to be left out, and since Seamus isn’t either, I know he’ll have something to say next.

“ Insíonn tú dúinn, a Sheáin. Tá tú mar an gcéanna leis. Rudaí beagán flapach ?” You tell us, Sean. You’re made the same as him. Things a little floppy?

“ éist do bhéal fecker .” Shut up, fecker.

Sean and I speak, and to anyone who doesn’t know us, it’s virtually impossible to tell whose voice is whose. Even in Gaelic and even in jest, our parents would skelp us alive if we swore at one another. That’s the Golden Rule in our family.

Thou shalt not curse at one another.

Life’s too short to take back harsh words when you might not speak or hear any again. Sean and I aren’t angry at Seamus, but we’ll both remember that for later. Joking or not, no guy wants to be asked if he has a floppy dick.

But it feeds the act we’re putting on. It’s working because Carrie’s wound up tighter than a bow string since she doesn’t understand what’s happening yet. She will with time—assuming we’ll have some. My free hand taps her arse before giving it a quick squeeze.

They must be taking us up to the eleventh floor, which is the top of the building. The elevator’s stopped three times, and everyone’s taken one look at five red heads and stepped away from the open doors. If that sort of power didn’t come with the looming threat of death every time we wake, it could be intoxicating. But none of us revel in it. None of us enjoy it. We have that power because it’s the only way to stay alive.

I glance down at the top of Carrie’s head. My chest tightens to where I want to rub it.

What have you done? You’ve sucked her into this world. You’re endangering her life every single moment she’s connected to you. She’ll never be free of her association with you. You’ve ruined her life.

That last thought runs on a loop.

I sense Sean’s eyes on me. I shift my focus to him. He sends me the same look he has since we were children: I know what you’re thinking and don’t.

It’s usually before I got us both in trouble. I’ve given him the same look enough times I understand it without being twins.

It’s the twin thing that made him guess what’s on my mind. Science can’t explain it. Yet . One day, they’ll understand twin intuition. I think it’s because we’ve shared so many of the same experiences and have been virtually inseparable by choice our entire lives. We’re so attuned to one another we know however we’d feel in a situation is likely how the other does, or we understand when the other would feel the opposite.

I swallow and dip my chin. I can tell Sean’s still worried, but he relaxes. No one outside our family knows our tells. Grandda and Uncle Don knocked any emotional response out of us, as in knocked us to the ground, knocked us out—that was Uncle Don’s best friend Colin. Fucking ham hocks for hands before he got what he deserved. Death.

When the elevator finally chimes, and we reach the top floor, everyone files out. Sean and I are in t-shirts and basketball shorts, but our cousins are in their regular tailored suits. We spend a fortune on clothes since we wind up burning so many of them. When we leave the station, we leave anything with DNA evidence behind. That means burning everything and dropping it in the Long Island Sound. Because of our builds, off the rack doesn’t work for us. We’d split the seams across our backs if we got jackets that match pants we need. Our pants would slide off our arses if we got them to match the jackets.

Even without our suits, Sean and I, along with our cousins, are an imposing sight. It might be worse with Sean and me in athletic clothes. It proves what everyone suspects. There’s as much muscle under our designer clothes as people suspect.

“Mr. O’Rourke, this way.”

The agent whose foot I stepped on tries to usher me in one direction while Steve takes Carrie in the other. I ignore him. They didn’t arrest either of us—despite what Steve said when he burst into the bedroom—so I’m not leaving her side unless they physically restrain me.

“Mr. O’Rourke.” The guy’s tone is more demanding this time.

“My client isn’t under arrest. He’s here against his will, but he’ll cooperate if he can stay with Ms. Pritchard. He won’t interrupt. Since she isn’t in cuffs, and I doubt you’ve Mirandaed either of them, they’re merely here to answer your questions.”

Dillan’s spewing shite, and everyone knows it. They can separate us if they want, and I’m certain they do. They could arrest all of us if they wanted. It’s merely a question of whether any of them dare.

Cormac’s still beside Carrie, keeping her between him and me. “Right now, my client is here as a favor to you since it’s clear she’s not a suspect since you haven’t arrested her. She can’t be a witness since she’s seen nothing. The same is true for both Mr. O’Rourkes. Perhaps we can sort all of this out if we sit down together and get on the same page.”

Cormac’s hardly conciliatory. It’s hardly a suggestion. He makes the agents look like Chihuahua pups when he’s a Rottweiler. His imposing size gives every word he utters more intensity. When Seamus steps beside him, the agents relent. For now.

We file into a conference room, and the agents guide Sean, Carrie, and me to chairs apart from each other. My cousins sit on one side of each of us while an agent sits on the other. Then there’s silence. Do they think we’re going to open the flood gates suddenly and tell them everything? If they couldn’t intimidate us enough to force us to go where they wanted, silence won’t intimidate us either. My gaze locks with Carrie’s.

“Ms. Pritchard, you abandoned your assignment.” I recognize the voice belonging to the man who just entered the room. His name was Phil, and I heard him on the call Carrie made to report in after she arrived at my place.

She’s still looking at me. I dip my chin. She’ll have to feed them something, or they will arrest her.

“I fled Tymoteusz Nowakowski and his men when they planned to kill me.”

“But did they try?”

“Yes.”

That surprises Philly. I can see him now that he’s standing across the table from Carrie. He thinks his height, since she’s seated, will intimidate her if his seniority and position as her supervisor don’t. Mental and physical manipulation. Oh, how I know it well.

Carrie volunteers nothing more. It obviously irritates Phil.

“How did they try to kill you?”

“When I ran, they shot at me.”

“Where did this take place?”

“Queens.”

“Where in Queens, Carys?” He softens his tone, and I watch Carrie struggle not to smirk.

“A neighborhood. I don’t know what it’s called.”

She probably doesn’t. It’s not like the gates leading into Beverly Hills with huge gold lettering. It’s far more subtle. Even before most of the Four Families moved in there, it’s such a wealthy neighborhood no residents want to draw attention to it. It’s why the community has a gate, and so do most of the individual properties.

“What happened in the neighborhood? How did you get there?”

“I told you I ran. They followed me and shot at me.”

“You’re in one piece.”

“Thank God.” Carrie’s tone has a twinge of sarcasm, but I think she genuinely feels that way. I know I do.

“How did you get away from them?”

“I hid.”

“Where?”

“A house. A gate was open, so I ran through it. I hid on someone’s property until I was certain they couldn’t shoot me.”

“Then what?”

“I left.”

“And went where?”

“Somewhere safe. I told you this over the phone yesterday, Phil.”

“How did you get to Mr. O’Rourke’s home?”

“By car.”

“Who drove it?”

Her brow furrows, and she appears confused. “I don’t remember.”

I believe her. I don’t think she took in much of what happened then except I was there, and she felt safe.

Phil turns to me. “Mr. O’Rourke, did you pick up Ms. Pritchard?”

Four voices respond. “No.” I remain quiet.

“Your antics might have worked in the elevator, but they won’t work here with me.”

I wonder if someone called him and let him hear the conversation or if there is a camera in the elevator. Maybe he’s assuming something happened since we clearly annoyed his agents.

“Mr. Shane O’Rourke, did you pick her up from wherever she sheltered?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“She was in danger.”

“From whom?”

“She already told you.”

“Did you know that’s who she ran from?”

“I found out.”

“How?”

“I heard it.”

“From whom?”

“Someone.”

Phil’s rapid firing the questions, and I’m just as fast to answer. It’s easy to predict what’ll come next, so it’s easy to have a response ready.

“My agents found Ms. Pritchard naked and in bed with you. You were naked, too.”

I watch Carrie, who shows no outward reaction, even though I’m certain she’s mortified. There’s no question posed, so I remain silent. I won’t offer anything, and I’ll only give the most evasive answers.

“Ms. Pritchard, were you there by your own free will, or did Mr. O’Rourke force you?”

“I chose where I slept.”

“And that was with Mr. O’Rourke.”

“You said ‘there,’ as in a location. I told you where I slept. Your question didn’t ask with whom.”

“Don’t be pedantic, Carys.”

“Don’t co-opt my responses.”

“Did you sleep with Mr. O’Rourke?”

“Your agents found me in bed with Mr. O’Rourke, who was also asleep.”

“Are you having sex with Mr. O’Rourke?”

“No. I’m sitting in a chair.”

“Are you sexually involved with Mr. O’Rourke?” Phil’s patience is about to snap.

Carrie doesn’t answer. Even if they’d arrested her, they cannot compel her to respond.

“Carys, will you go to jail for him?”

“Mr.?” Cormac’s dismissive tone irritates Phil even further, but it distracts him from Carrie for a moment.

She shifts her gaze to me. I know she wants to know how she should answer that. But I don’t know. I look at Seamus, sitting across from me. His expression says no as loudly as if he were screaming. When I return my attention to Carrie, I think she understands because her expression goes entirely blank.

“Supervisory Agent in Charge Phil Hammond.”

“Agent Hammond, I’m advising my client to decline answering any further questions of this nature. You may limit your questions to her investigation of the Polish mob. But further inquiry into my client’s private life is inappropriate.”

“Further inquiry? She’s sleeping with a?—”

“A what, Agent Hammond?” Cormac presses, and he’s about to sink his teeth in.

“A man with known ties to organized crime.”

“Known ties?”

“Yes, your family is the New York mob.”

“Says who?”

Cormac knows none of the agents will reveal sources, and there aren’t any active or old cases against any of us linking us to organized crime. The NYPD’s arrested all of us at some point. Mostly when we were teens and still learning how to steal shite without getting caught. A few times were to distract the police from the people actually committing crimes. Nothing’s stuck.

When Phil remains quiet, Cormac leans forward. “Who, Agent Hammond?”

“I don’t have to answer your questions. We’re here to ask Ms. Pritchard and your cousins questions.”

“You’ve just made a serious accusation with no grounds. It sounds like you’re toeing the line of defamation by making such claims with no evidence.”

“No grounds? Everyone knows who you are.”

“Who are we, Agent Hammond?”

“You’re damn mob.”

“Says who?” Cormac will take them around in circles until Phil’s dizzy, and my cousin walks away the same way he does after ten shots of Irish whiskey—sober as the day he was born. Though, ask him about Halloween two years ago, and he’ll say the eleventh is a doozy.

“I won’t go around in circles with you, Mr. O’Rourke. Carys, look at what you’ve gotten yourself involved with. You abandoned your assignment. You’re sleeping with a man suspected of countless crimes. You’ve destroyed your career. But if you cooperate, we won’t charge you with any misconduct or crimes. Tell them you’ll speak to us alone.”

“I have a right to remain silent. I have a right to an attorney. I have the right to stop answering questions. I’m not under arrest, but those rights still apply. I have nothing more to say.”

“If you won’t cooperate, we’ll arrest you, Carys.”

I want to climb out of my skin. It was always going to come to this. Why they didn’t formally arrest her at my house is a question I don’t know the answer to. But we’ve bought my dad and uncles more time to pull strings. That’s been the goal.

Phil looks at Angela, who stands and pulls out her handcuffs. I watch the woman put them around Carrie’s wrists as she officially Mirandizes my girlfriend. Carrie doesn’t look anywhere but straight ahead. Cormac insists upon remaining with her, but it leaves Sean, Seamus, Dillan, and me in a room full of federal agents I want to butcher.

Phil looks at me and gloats. It doesn’t last when four sets of emerald eyes silently warn him it’s bad for his health to antagonize us.

“Agent Hammond?” A young man who looks like he should still be in middle school sticks his head in.

“Yeah.”

“Um, Sir. Director Spenser’d like to speak to you.”

Philly Boy’s day just went to shite. The four of us lean back in our chairs, leaning on our left elbows on the armrests as we spin our chairs in unison to better see Phil. Like synchronized swimmers, we rest our jaws on our left hands as though we’re bored.

“Transfer him to my office.”

“Uh, Sir, he said you should take it in here on speaker.”

I think that color is called puce. It’s the one Phil’s face turns when he reaches across the table to the phone in the center.

“Director Spenser, this is Spec?—”

“I know who you are. If you aren’t charging the O’Rourkes with anything, let them go.”

“But—”

“Hammond.” Spenser sounds like he’s reprimanding a naughty schoolboy.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Where is Agent Pritchard?”

“She’s on her way to Central Booking.”

“Good. Keep her there for the full forty-eight hours.”

You could hear a pin drop.

Everything’s in suspended animation as I turn to look at Dillan, who turns to look at me. We both turn to look at Sean and Seamus. Dillan spins his chair, so he can pin me in place if he has to. The temptation to go over the table and strangle Phil is nearly palpable. I want to find out where Director Spenser is right now and bash his brains in. I want to do a lot of things, but all I can do is sit there.

Dillan’s whispered comment only makes me angrier. “ Fuair Mérgrég tríd. Beidh sí mar sin .”

Telling me his wife got through it, and so will Carrie does nothing to calm me.

It was the ATF who tried to use Mair against Dillan. He was practically a rampaging bull while trying to get her out of there. Fortunately for us—not so fortunate for them—we had three women connected to our family in lock up that night. They protected Mair, but I don’t know that Carrie’ll be so lucky.

“ Cuirfear croitheadh uirthi nuair a fhaigheann aon duine amach gur gníomhaire feidearálach í .” She'll get shanked the moment anyone finds out she’s a federal agent.

She might not be a police officer, but she’s still law enforcement. She’ll be a target the moment she walks through the door. Spenser knows that.

“What do you want?” I’ll sell just about anything I have to get Carrie out. Anybody need a kidney?

“Mr. O’Rourke, make a full confession of all your crimes, and Agent Pritchard won’t step foot in Central Booking.”

Dillan’s leg nudges mine. He knows I’ll spew every lie I can come up with—I’ll confess to murdering JFK and dumping Jimmy Hoffa’s body—if it’ll get Carrie out. But no one in my family thinks I’ll sell them out. They know I’ll lie, and that worries them even more.

“I’ll make that confession when I see Ms. Pritchard leave this building with her attorney and get into his car. I’ll make that confession when you bring me a notarized agreement that this arrangement is binding.”

“Tick tock, Mr. O’Rourke. By the time I send something down that’s notarized, she’ll be in an orange jumpsuit.”

“I suggest you don’t drag your feet then.”

My tone’s so menacing the remaining agents in the room shift and reach for their weapons. I shoot them scathing glances.

“You don’t issue orders, Mr. O’Rourke. It’s the confession, or Ms. Pritchard spends the next two days in jail. I’m certain she’ll feel chatty before then.”

He thinks Carrie will roll on me. I don’t. I think she’ll die before that happens. And that’s what terrifies me.

“Agent Hammond!”

We all turn to a woman who rushes into the conference room. She glances around before she keeps her voice down. It’s not enough to keep me from hearing.

“The Nowakowski brothers are dead. Their plane crashed just before they were to reach Newark. It’s ash and debris in the ocean.”

Who the fuck stole my right to punish them?

I stare at Dillan, but he shrugs. Seamus and Sean frown. None of us know who it was because it wasn’t any of us. I figured they’d returned yesterday, but it must have just happened if it’s news.

“Anyone claiming it?” Director Spenser must have heard her because he asks the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question.

“No. We’re uncertain, but we think it’s the Diazes.”

What the ever-loving fuck does Enrique have to do with this?

“The Cartel? Why?”

Spenser’s demanding, but not in the way one would sound if the news surprised them. It’s more like wanting to know why something got fucked up. What’s his connection to the Colombians?

“We don’t know for sure. Apparently, Bartlomiej Nowakowski had a lot of enemies.”

I doubt the woman realizes the extent of that understatement.

“But we don’t know for certain it was them?”

There’s something different to Spenser’s tone now. Like he wants to check before he claims something entirely different. Like he’s double-checking.

“No, Sir.”

“Arrest all the O’Rourkes in that room for murder.”

“We’ve been here. How could we murder anyone? When did this happen?” Dillan’s the oldest in the family. Even before we knew the roles we’d eventually step into, he was always protective of us. Mostly, he was protective of Colleen, but because all of us were always together, he felt responsible for everyone. Shite is about to rain in heaven.

“Uh—um—ten minutes ago.” The woman doesn’t know where to look, but Dillan’s tone has compelled stronger men to bend to his will.

“Then you have no probable cause since we’ve all been here.”

“Obviously, you planted a bomb.” Phil’s on board with his boss and is ready to run with this.

“I bet that confession’s sounding pretty good right now, Mr. O’Rourke. Admit to this, and there won’t be any need to hold Ms. Pritchard or your relatives.”

“Bring me that notarized agreement. I’m certain you can draw something up and get it up here in a few minutes, Director Spenser. You’d hate to have me forget everything.”

I will burn this motherfucking building to the ground before I help this piece of shite. But I’ll go to prison for life to get Carrie and my family out of this.

“Very well, Mr. O’Rourke. Agent Hammond, bring Agent Pritchard back in. She’s our star witness now. She can explain everyone’s role in this little love triangle she’s found herself in between Bartlomiej Nowakowski and Shane O’Rourke. Who knew she’d bring the mighty to their knees?”

I narrow my eyes. That fucker doesn’t mean that as a metaphor. He’s implying—fuck him.

Dillan nudges me. He holds out his phone.

Cormac

This is Carys. Show Shane your phone.

Dillan

Ok.

There’s a pause, then the next text comes in.

Carrie

Shane will you marry me?