Flawless (New York Confidential #1)(76)

“No, but...”

“Are you worried about what your brothers might be caught up in?”

“No!” Kieran protested. “No!”

“Are you worried about yourself?” he asked quietly. “Or even Julie?”

She turned away and walked into the kitchen, taking a bottle of Jameson’s from the cabinet. She poured a liberal portion into a glass.

He smiled. He’d never seen her drink and doubted that she did so often. Few bartenders imbibed on a regular basis, probably because they saw the effects of too much alcohol on a regular basis.

“Were you going to offer me one?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Aren’t you on duty? Aren’t you always on duty?”

“No. Well, a lot of the time, yes,” he admitted. “But not now. I’ve never been on duty here, with you, Kieran,” he said quietly.

For a moment, he thought that she believed him as something softened in her eyes.

“Suit yourself,” she said, pushing the bottle toward him.

He found a glass and poured himself a shot. A small one. He lifted the glass to her.

“I swear to you, I don’t know what crazy ideas you’ve got in your head, but you’re wrong. I’m not in disguise because I’m after your family. What I believe—and with good reason—is that Finnegan’s has been used as a meeting place by both sets of thieves, the ones you helped us catch and the copycats who are still out there. I was there in disguise because some people already know me there, and who’s likely to talk about their criminal plans if they think an FBI agent might overhear?”

She swallowed her whiskey straight, set the glass down hard and stared at him. “Why didn’t you tell me what you were doing?”

“You might have inadvertently given me away.”

“Really. So you think I’m an idiot?”

“Kieran, stop right there,” he said, his voice quiet but authoritative. “I didn’t want to put you at risk, that’s all. I think you’re far more afraid than I am that someone in your family is somehow involved in this.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. As if any member of my family would ever try to kill me,” she snapped.

He paused for a moment, studying her. “So you think someone was trying to kill you?”

She nodded, but then her temper flared again. “If you don’t take off that ridiculous disguise, I can’t talk to you.”

“Fair enough.”

He turned and headed for the bathroom, searching through his pockets for the spirit-gum remover. He looked at himself in the mirror over the sink as he methodically metamorphosed from musician to lawman. Contacts first. The wig was easy, the facial hair less so. As he worked he noticed that Kieran had poured herself another shot of whiskey and was leaning against the door frame, sipping as she watched him.

He could tell that she was furious without even looking at her. The air vibrated with the angry heat emanating from her.

She reached over at one point for a tuft on his chin he hadn’t reached yet. He started to thank her, then realized she wasn’t pointing it out as she ripped it off, leaving the skin underneath stinging.

“Missed a spot,” she said as she retreated back to the doorway.

He went after her, grabbing her shoulders. “Look, I get it. You’re angry. But I don’t think you’re mad because you think I’m after your brothers. I think you’re mad because I actually fooled you. And I’m sorry, but this is what I do, especially when people are dead and I want to bring their killers to justice. No matter what I feel about you, I swore an oath, and I owe the dead the best I have. And if you can’t deal with that, I’m sorry. Meanwhile, I fully believe that someone wants to kill you, I just don’t know why, but my best guess is that they think you know something that’s a danger to them. And maybe you do and just don’t know yourself what it is. As for your family...dammit, Kieran, if there’s a reason why you think I’m after them, a reason why you think one of them might be involved—even unintentionally—tell me now.”

He realized he was gripping her shoulders too hard and released them.

She stared up at him. “I have already told you—no one in my family would have anything to do with robbing anyone, much less murder.”

She turned and walked away.

He thought about following her, but he decided to give her some space and headed back into the bathroom to finish removing his disguise.

That spot on his chin still smarted. He rubbed it gently. No doubt about it, she was strong.

When he finished, he found her sitting on the living room sofa beneath a watercolor of the Brooklyn Bridge, staring into space.

“Kieran?” he said.

She looked up at him.

“I can leave if you want. I’ll stay nearby, maybe out in the hall, and keep an eye on your place. But I don’t want you to feel as if I’m crowding you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I would never make a government agent sit in a hallway all night,” she told him.

He sat on the sofa, too, but not so close as to touch her.

She didn’t look at him.

“What aren’t you telling me?” he demanded, aggravation getting the better of him.

She did turn to look at him then. “Did you find out anything while you were in disguise? Did you overhear something that might help?”