Destroy Me - Ella Sheridan Page 0,11
stick to the movies and stop making the rest of the human race feel inadequate. “I’m not risking it, so back up.” She eyed the container. “Is that for me?”
“Chicken noodle.” He grinned boyishly.
She leaned against the doorjamb, trying to project fatigue when every muscle in her body was tight with tension. “You didn’t have time to cook that.”
“I did. Bella was at the restaurant. She helped me throw it together.”
Bella, the night manager at Sean’s restaurant. “Well thank her for me tomorrow.” She reached for the soup.
Sean hesitated. “Are you sure you don’t need help?”
Her throat tightened with emotion. “You’ve helped me more than you know, Sean,” she said, cradling the container to her belly. “Now go take care of Cathal.”
He winked. “I will. You rest.”
Highly unlikely, but…
“See you in the morning, love.” He waved as he descended her steps. She watched until he was in front of his unit, then closed her door reluctantly. After flicking the lock, she turned to Fionn.
His eyes glittered in the dim light, matching the glint off his knife. Lyse sucked in a deep breath. It was time to explain exactly why she’d brought him here. She moved toward the kitchen. “We need to talk. Want some soup?”
“No talking.” Fionn was right on her tail. “I’m getting you on a plane and taking you back to Global First.”
“We’re not going anywhere.”
“And who’s goin’ to stop me?” he growled behind her.
“Santo Ferrina.”
She sensed more than saw him go still. Her stomach was in knots and the last thing she wanted was food, but she pulled a couple of bowls from the cabinet anyway. The aroma of roasted chicken and savory broth filled her nose when she opened Sean’s container.
She was pouring the soup when Fionn’s body hit her, pinning her to the counter. Hot liquid splashed over her hand.
“Ferrina is dead.”
The burn sizzling along her skin brought tears her eyes. “No, Ferrina Senior is dead. Junior is very much alive.”
“That’s impossible.”
Because Junior had “died” in a motorcycle accident not long after Ferrina was convicted. Santo Ferrina Sr. had been knifed in prison three years ago. That’s when Fionn had stopped worrying about his mother. Lyse wished she didn’t have to bring that worry back into his life all over again, but sometimes dead men didn’t stay dead.
“Not much is impossible nowadays. You know that, Fionn.”
He pressed harder. “Tell me what you know about Ferrina.”
Bossy Fionn was starting to piss her off, knife or not. She cursed, shaking the sting from her fingers. “I know everything; I’m smart, remember?” And you’ve become an asshole. “Can I rinse my hand, or are burns one of your torture options now?”
Fionn’s curses were far more colorful than hers, especially with the Irish accent, but he backed off, allowing her to move to the sink. The cool water soothed the pain searing her skin, and she let it run, a cheerful counterpoint to the weight of her words. “I know Ferrina Sr. was your father’s partner at Dublin International Banking. I know about the money they embezzled, and I know Ferrina Sr. murdered your father after he double-crossed Ferrina and wouldn’t tell where the money was. I know Ferrina was convicted a decade ago and died in prison.”
She turned the water off and reached for a dish towel, taking a few moments to pat her skin dry. Giving Fionn a cautious sideways glance, she moved to wipe up the spilled soup. His expression was completely closed off, revealing nothing, but the knife wasn’t in his hand any longer. That was a good sign, right?
“You could’ve read that in my personnel file. What is it having to do with his son?”
Throwing the dirty towel into the sink, she turned to face him. The edge of the counter dug into her back, steadying her. “To explain that, I need to show you something.”
“What?”
He wasn’t going to like this. She knew it, but that didn’t mean she could avoid it. “A couple of nights ago I caught something on camera that I think you need to see.”
Fionn’s narrowed gaze bored into her. She waited, barely daring to breathe, while he made his decision. No amount of pleading or arguing would convince him about this any more than it would convince him that she hadn’t meant to hurt him two months ago. He’d make up his own mind.
“What did you find?” he finally asked.
Relief sent a rush of fatigue through her. “It’s in the computer room.”
He gestured for her to lead the way.