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“I told Shay I needed another week,” Cormac says, spreading his hands like that makes him less irritating. “Cash flow’s tight.”
Rafe looks at him from the other side of the desk with that flat, patient stare of his.
Cormac swallows.
“I’m good for it,” he adds.
“Are ya?” Rafe asks.
“Yeah.”
“Because I know ya have it.”
Cormac glances at me like I might be softer. That’s his second poor life choice.
I lean against the filing cabinet next to him, arms folded, one boot crossed over the other. “Don’t look at me, Cormac. My patience is thinner than my brother’s.”
“True that,” Rafe says without taking his eyes off him.
“You could do with cleaning this office,” I say. “It stinks of bullshit and the distinct whiff of stashed money.”
Cormac’s jaw tightens. “You think this is funny?”
“Not at all,” I deadpan. “Am I smiling?”
Behind us, one of our men moves to the front shutters. Outside the office window, two mechanics pretend not to watch through the glass while an engine ticks hot in the nearest bay.
Cormac reaches for the drawer.
“Slowly, big lad,” Rafe warns.
“You want your money?” the arsehole asks.
I cock a brow at him. “What’s with the bad attitude, Cormac? I’m starting to think this garage would work better as a hairdresser. Maybe we should burn it down and rebuild, Rafe. Out with the old. In with the new.”
“Why a hairdresser and not a barber?” Rafe asks, playing along.
“I heard your mate’s marrying the Harrington pretty boy,” Cormac says, half smiling. “That’ll ruin things for you.”
Usually, my focus is untouchable. I study rooms in useful pieces. Exits. Faces. Potential weapons. Lies sitting in the throat before they reach the mouth.
Today, everything keeps slipping, and the second he mentions Fionn, the gray light through the dirty office blinds turns into the pale glow of a bridal salon mirror. And the memory of our kiss floods me.
In a blink, Cormac moves. He’s fast for a man with that much weight and unpaid debt.
He grabs the glass ashtray from the desk and swings it wide. I get my arm up, but not high enough. The corner catches me near my brow, and my head jerks sideways with the impact.
Pain splits hot across my face, and a trickle of blood runs into my eye.
“Motherfucker.” Rafe lunges and shoves his ass back into his chair.
I draw my gun before Cormac has a chance to be proud of himself, and I ram the barrel under his chin.
His throat works as he swallows.
“That was your third poor life choice of the day,” I grit out through clenched teeth. “That stupid move puts you at the top of my brother's hit list.”
Cormac’s eyes go round, wet with regret.
