Now that he’s got it, he doesn’t seem very interested in drinking.
“You look different,” he remarks.
I grit my teeth. “That might have something to do with the fact that my father was just shot right in front of me.”
“No,” he demurs without hesitation. “That’s not it.”
“Then I don’t know what to tell you.”
He takes a sip of water.
“You wanna tell me what happened?” he asks.
I tense. “I don’t really know. Everything happened so fast.”
“Try and remember.” It sounds like a threat.
“A couple of guys showed up,” I tell him, staying by the sink. “Apparently, Pa owed them money.”
“What were their names?” he asks.
“I don’t know.”
My answer surprises even me. I’m not sure why I don’t give the O’Sullivans up. I owe them nothing.
Except that it feels like I do.
“You don’t know?” Tristan repeats.
“I heard them mention the name ‘Kinahan’ a couple of times.”
“Kinahan, huh?” Tristan muses. “Interesting.”
He has the demeanor of a man who’s never fazed, but I can sense that he’s curious about what happened here today.
“Any other names?”
“Brody,” I reply.
“Murtagh?”
“I think so.”
“Your father certainly has a way of getting himself into trouble, doesn’t he?”
“What do you mean?”
He looks at me with a nasty smile on his face. “Owing the Kinahans is never a good thing,” he tells me. “Especially now that they’re under Brian Murtagh’s thumb.”
I feel my body go cold, wondering how much more danger Pa is in, considering he also owes the O’Sullivans.
There’s no way I’ll be able to pay back the debt he owes.
Still, I don’t have the same kind of fear attached to the O’Sullivans as I do with the Kinahans.
Maybe because of Cillian O’Sullivan’s eyes. Beneath the cockiness, beneath the fire, he had kind eyes. The type that seem like they’re laughing even when he’s not.
“So Brody showed up to collect and good ol’ Padraig didn’t have the cash.”