Her fingers slotted against mine and we shook hands with a briskness that was purely masculine.
Odder still.
Her gaze darted to my brothers. "You brought the cavalry?"
"No. They showed up on their own." I pursed my lips. "You’ll take me to MacMurray?"
"I will. In a moment." Grainne reached for an envelope on her desk and passed it to me. "I wish to maintain the relationship I had with your father, Aidan," she reiterated.
I stared at her. "Did he use this place?"
"Your father was obsessed with your mother," she said flatly. "He could have traded her in for a newer model, but he never did. She was it for him. I’m certain that didn’t change in death."
Someone cleared their throat behind me, and I knew it’d be Brennan. He was a soft touch for Ma, even if she was as much of a raving lunatic as Da was. Case in point: we’d only recently learned that she’d killed Finn’s mother-in-law.
Yeah, our family was full of filthy fucking secrets.
I slipped open the envelope and pulled out a sheet of paper.
It had an address on it.
"What’s this?" I asked, brow furrowed.
"I sent one of my girls to that address last night."
"And?"
"Eamonn Keegan used to be one of my regulars before his arrest and when he was in the city. He has reestablished his membership with the club."
My eyes flared. "Excuse me?"
Behind me, I felt the ice sinking into the atmosphere as we processed that name.
Eamonn Keegan had, after all, killed our father.
"You heard me. Aidan Sr. made certain I always gave Keegan what he requested."
"Because he was acheile? Or for another reason?"
"Because of his affiliation with the ECD," she confirmed.
Cheileswere a bunch of despotic fuckwits who wanted Ireland to be reunited. Their brotherhood was called the ECD.
The ECD didn’t give a fuck who they murdered to make that happen—my father included.
The leader, Eamonn Keegan, had spent a couple decades in prison for setting off a bomb that killed dozens of people back in London in the nineties.
Conor stormed forward and snatched the envelope from my grasp. Before he could take off with it, I grabbed his arm and kept him in place.
"How long did Da monitor the ECD?" I inquired carefully.
"For decades."
"Why?"
"He didn’t trust them."
"He was fucking right not to," Declan snarled.