“How goes the search for the Bulgarians?”
“Niall’s on the hunt. They’ve gone to ground. Word got out that we were looking for them.”
“And he’s confident?”
“The Reaper is always confident.”
Pa smirks at my reply, clapping me on the shoulder as we enter the room. I take my seat at Pa’s right, beside Tig and across from Aunt Siobhan. Connor drops into the chair beside his mother, accepting a plate she has filled for him.
“How are the tables, Connor?” Pa asks, turning his gaze on my cousin. Aunt Siobhan shakes her head, but she doesn’t speak up, so Connor grins, launching into a rundown.
“There was some friction last night between the Italians and the Russians, but it came to nothing.”
“What friction?” Pa is frowning. We have alliances with both the Italians and the Russians, but they don’t have an alliance with one another. If anything, they’ve always been slightly hostile.
“De Luca, one of the young Italian capos, was on a streak, winning big. Yahontov took exception to it.”
“Ye defused the situation?”
“De Luca did. The man is a smooth talker. He calmed the Russian down and offered to move tables and everything.” Connor frowns as he toys with his fork.
“Pity Manchetti doesn’t have that kind of charm,” I interject with a smirk.
Pa sighs. “Gianni Manchetti is a good Don.”
I snort. “He’s got a tenuous grip at best. I think he is one bad move away from losing control of some of his capos.”
Aunt Siobhan clears her throat, glaring pointedly at the three of us. Connor’s eyes dart over Tig, studiously picking at her colcannon.
“So, how about those Red Sox?” Pa asks with a sigh. Connor and I bite back a smirk, but Tig perks up.
“They’re playing a risky strategy, but it seems to be paying off for them.”
All eyes snap to her, and I smirk, moving my hand under the table to stroke her thigh through her dress. All the chatting we’ve been doing, and I never knew she was a Sox fan? That’s kind of hot.
TIGGY
Liam leans against the door, watching the doctor as she removes the splint.
“Hold your hand up. Bend your fingers like this.”
I follow her motions, relief flooding through me as my fingers bend easily without any pain. Thank goodness.
“Don’t go deadlifting or anything, but you should be fine to resume normal activities with your hand.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate your help with this.”
She gives me a tight smile. “I do what Sean Fitzpatrick asks.”
Liam smirks like he knows a secret, nodding to the doctor as she packs her black bag and leaves the house. Liam sees her out, dropping onto one of the barstools in the kitchen once she’s gone.
Usually, I would be at Oracle now, but Seamus went without me today because of getting my splint off. Liam drew the short straw of having to be my bodyguard.
Sliding onto the barstool beside him, I poke him in the ribs as he frowns down at me.
“What was with your smirk?”
“What smirk?” He looks cocky, like always, his eyebrows raising.