Crush(49)

My hands stayed steady on the table as I leaned down. “Flannigan.”

“I knew you’d come see me.”

Every muscle in my body went taut. “I want to kill you with my bare hands.”

“Come on. You don’t really mean that, do you? I saved your ass by never telling my old man Emily was pregnant. You owe me.”

My teeth clenched. “I don’t owe you shit.”

Fire seemed to light in his eyes. “It wasn’t for you anyway. I wasn’t sure if it was yours and if my old man looked into it, he might not like what he found out.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Had to protect my boys.”

I didn’t believe him for a minute. He’d never let anyone touch his sister. She was the only thing he ever cared about.

Ignoring his poor attempt to goad me, I leered at him. I was here to make it look like he was turning against the Blue Hill Gang. My way of protecting Elle. I had to remember that. I had to keep my shit together.

“Sit down.” He motioned with his chin to the only other chair in the room. “We have a lot to discuss.”

Controlling my urge to fling myself over the table and choke the life out of him, I remained where I was. “I think I’ll stand.”

He shrugged. “Then I think this visit is over. And here I was hoping to have a heart-to-heart about your girl. Elle, isn’t it?”

My fingers pressed the table so hard my knuckles were turning white. Still, I knew I couldn’t give him the upper hand. If I did, he’d see through my real reason for this visit. That it was a show. A picture to present to the world. A lie. A well-thought-out lie. He’d asked me here. Had something he needed to tell me. Why me? Who else did he have to turn to that wasn’t on Patrick’s payroll? I was f*cking perfect. Thoughts back in the game, without a word, I slid backward and started for the door, hoping his need to taunt me would far surpass his need to flex any control he thought he might have over me.

“Hey,” he called, the quiver in his voice giving him away.

Triumphant, I turned around.

He was sitting up straighter and that smile had slipped from his lips. “Come back here. You’re going to want to hear what I have to tell you.”

My lips twisted. “What exactly do you think you have to say that I want to hear?” My tone was light, breezy. Very I don’t give a shit because I really didn’t give a shit.

“I know things you’re going to want to hear.”

“I doubt it.”

“About Elle’s sister.”

“Like what?” I practically spit.

“Like who killed her.”

That got my attention, and in three strides I was back at the table. “What are you talking about?”

Those hard eyes narrowed on me and then toward the chair.

Not playing, truly curious, I lowered myself into the seat. “Explain to me what you’re talking about.”

“I know who killed her.” His voice broke.

The motherf*cker had feelings for Elle’s sister—it was written all over his face. You had to be shitting me. “You know who killed Elizabeth O’Shea?”

He nodded his head.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because she deserves justice.”

I had to laugh. “And I’m supposed to believe you care . . . why?”

“Because I f*cking loved her.”

Noises of disbelief escaped my throat. I couldn’t help it.

“You have to go after him.”

“I don’t have to do shit.”

“You’re the only one I’ve got, man.”

The hairs on my neck stood up. Desperate. He was desperate. I didn’t have to put on a show after all. He really was going to talk. “And who exactly is him? Who do you think killed Lizzy?”

“It’s not who I think killed her. It’s who I know killed her.”

“Who?” My voice rose.

He leaned forward. “Her f*cking husband did it.” He practically spit the word husband.

I might have thought that too but with him telling me, now I wasn’t so sure. How could I believe him? “Are you sure it wasn’t you?”

His cuffed hands gripped the table and his face turned red. “I told you, I loved her.”

“Like that means shit to me.”

“Listen to me. He stole the drugs from us and later he killed her.”

Something in my mind scrambled. I knew Michael had to have been playing some kind of game with the drugs. I just didn’t know why he’d put everyone around him in jeopardy if he had them. “What the f*ck are you talking about?”

That taunting smile was back. “Oh, did I get your attention now? Worried about your precious Elle being around him?”

“Don’t say her name,” I f*cking growled.

He remained silent.

Pulling my shit together, I inched back in my chair. “Yeah, you got my attention, but not for long.”

“I’m not f*cking around with you. I’ve told the guards at least a hundred times that I know who killed her and not a single f*cking one of them will pay any attention to me.”

My heart was racing but I remained calm. We weren’t buddies and he wasn’t looking to help me out. “And you think I will?”