Destroy Me - Ella Sheridan Page 0,67

What was it you told me, Siobhan? That he would do anything for you, and what you wanted most was to move somewhere away from the city, away from Dublin?”

The older woman’s eyes were round as she eyed the data on the page. Lyse wasn’t sure she was reading it so much as she was remembering Robert’s words, their conversations about the future, about their dreams. It killed Lyse to bring it up, but she had no choice. Finding that money was the only way to end this.

“If I’m right, if this is what I think it is”—she tapped the paper—“we can find that money and turn it in, and end this once and for all.”

Fionn’s gaze met hers, and she saw his resolve, saw that he’d already made his decision. It was the only way to keep Siobhan safe forever. There was something else there too, something she couldn’t quite put a name to. Excitement, maybe? “We need a plan.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“So,” Deacon asked, leaning against the doorjamb in Mack’s study, “how are you getting a message to Ferrina if he’s no longer at his base camp?”

Good question. Fionn huffed a laugh. “It’s not like he’ll be having an email address we can access, like IrishCartel@ gmail—”

“You might be surprised.” Lyse turned a grin on them, the sassy edge making him shift to give his fatigues more room in the crotch. “If it was that easy, y’all wouldn’t need me. But it isn’t, and you do, so…” She turned back to her screen, that tempting expression still on her face, and went back to typing. Her hands literally flew across the keyboard, the lines of text on the computer moving too fast for him to read.

He hadn’t even been trying to read it, he realized. Somewhere along the way, he’d stopped expecting betrayal from Lyse. He’d shed the hurt and anger like dirty clothes, one piece at a time, until he’d stopped thinking about what had happened in the States every few seconds, then minutes, then hours. And now, after the nights and days they’d spent together… Who the feck could think about the past when the present was blowing his mind?

He hadn’t told Lyse that, though. Did she still worry that he held a grudge? Was that stain on her soul still there under all the passion and pleasure? Maybe it was time to talk about the past and lay it to rest once and for all.

“Then how are you doing it?” Deacon was saying.

Dog with a bone, that was his best friend. Fionn grinned this time as he caught a glimpse of impatience in Lyse’s eyes.

“The cartel, like any underground organization, is run under the cover of legit businesses,” she told him, barely glancing away from the screen. “Technically Ferrina owns a string of high-end foreign car dealerships. Exotic models.”

“Luxury cars.” Perfect for high-dollar money laundering—and high-volume smuggling. Why hadn’t he considered that? Fionn shook his head.

Lyse grinned. “Yep.”

“And…?” Deacon asked.

“And I’m issuing him an invitation to check out a model worth its weight in gold, tomorrow evening at a location in northern Ireland that will be disclosed to him in time for the meet up. Said model has been in North Quigley recently, but has since been moved.”

Deacon groaned at the gold crack. “That’s so bad, Lyse. So bad.”

“What can I say? Puns are good for the soul.” She winked at Fionn, making certain Deacon couldn’t see.

That wink, this moment sparked a sense of déjà vu. They were slipping back into old patterns with each other, joking, teasing. That lightness had been missing from his relationships for the past two months, until he’d found Lyse. He hadn’t realized how much the anger had consumed him, burning away every good piece of him, until it was gone.

As he watched them, something light and totally unconnected to the shit storm they’d found themselves in rose into his throat. Here, in this room, was the friend who always had his back. They were keeping his mam safe. And he had a clever wan. Life was back on the road to good.

“Giving Ferrina a specific date and time should get him off Siobhan’s back,” Lyse said, completely unaware of the shift Fionn was experiencing. “We’ll have more freedom of movement and a set expectation for when the next encounter will be. Hopefully. If he takes the bait.”

Her fingers paused on the keyboard, something he couldn’t read crossing her face. Or maybe he could. Lyse knew better than anyone that expectations and