Chasing River (Burying Water #3)(86)

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.”

“Okay, I’ll try to stay awake,” she says through a yawn. “I’m exhausted from last night.”

“So am I,” I admit, unable to keep my wide grin from spreading. I can’t wait for a repeat. Tomorrow. “Get some sleep. If I don’t talk to ya again tonight, I will in the morning. First thing.”

“Okay.”

“’Night, Amber.”

She makes a soft sound—a mix between a moan and a purr—that gets my blood stirring. “’Night.”

“Is this what life is going to be like now?” Rowen mutters. “Me working while you whisper into your phone?”

“Shut up, dickhead.” He came in to help me with the last hour, letting Nuala go home early. I snatch the end of the wet towel just before he manages to snap my thigh with it and yank it out of his hand, reversing the move. He tears around the bar to get away before I can make contact.

A sudden pounding against the door has us both frowning at each other.

“Open up!”

There’s no mistaking Aengus’s voice.

“Fuck. What is he doing here?” Rowen heads over to unlock the door and let him in.

Aengus stumbles through, slamming the door shut behind him. I guess he didn’t lay off the beer, like I told him to. Good job taking care of him, Jimmy.

“You’re supposed to be gone to ground!” I yell. “What the f*ck are you doing in here? Did anyone see ya?”

“No one saw me,” he slurs. “It’s dark, and I’m stealthy as an alley cat.”

Rowen snorts but says nothing, busying himself with the last remaining chairs needing stacking. Wanting to get away from him, I’ll bet. Aengus is a mean drunk.

“And besides, those two f*ckheads who were waiting for me on our street are in prison, so I guess Beznick’s out of luck for now.”

“Why are you even out? Where’s Jimmy?”

“Ah . . .” He waves a dismissive hand. “Can’t I come see me brothers? Hang out in me own pub? This place is rightfully mine and I’m not even allowed to come in for a pint? I have to sneak through dark alleys and beg you to let me in!”

Rowen shoots me a warning glance, not that it’s needed. I’m not about to give Aengus a reality check about the future ownership of Delaney’s.

“Grab a stool, Aengus.” I sigh, holding a fresh glass up to the Smithwick’s tap. At least we haven’t cleaned it out for the night yet.

“Don’t mind if I do.” He kicks one over to sit opposite me.

“Rowen?”

“May as well,” he mutters. Aengus can be the true sense of the term barfly. A f*cking nuisance that’s impossible to rid ourselves of once he’s in.

I’m just setting a pint down in front of Aengus when the door flies open and a short fella steps in, his face covered from the nose down by a black handkerchief. I see the smile in his cold, narrow eyes. “Tit-for-tat, Delaneys.” He rolls something onto the floor and disappears out the door as quickly as he came, slamming it shut behind him.

I have just enough time to see the long tube.

Just enough time to see the wick at the end, sizzling as it burns.