12
Nolan sat across from Will and watched Bridget come toward the booth at the back of Foley’s. She unwound her scarf, her long hair shining like newly minted penny in the Christmas lights hanging over the bar, her cheeks pink with cold.
“Hey.” She avoided Nolan’s eyes as she took off her coat and he pretended not to notice her full breasts under a snug-fitting sweater, the curve of her hips in jeans that fit her like a glove.
He didn’t even mind when she slid in next to Will. Now she was across from him, allowing him to look at her for however long he could make their meeting last.
It was a luxury after the last month working for Seamus: a month avoiding a show of even passing interest in her, a month of clenching his jaw when the other guys made comments about her body, of resisting the urge to put a bullet through Seamus’s head for what he was doing to her, for letting her get in so deep that he had to know she’d never be able to get out.
His leave of absence at Glassman and Weld had taken effect immediately and he’d quickly gone to work knocking people around for Seamus. He should have felt guiltier than he did, but he’d started to consider the beatings a public service. If someone was getting beaten up by Nolan, it was the least of that person’s worries. Bigger and badder things would come next. He hoped they’d get out while they could.
He enjoyed it more than he wanted to admit. The satisfaction of using his fists had quickly come back to him, the meaty thwack when he hit a man’s face, the thud of his body falling to the ground. Little by little the sterility of his life as a lawyer was receding in the rearview mirror. He was almost surprised by how quickly he forgot who he was supposed to be.
“What the fuck happened with Casey?” Will said to Bridget.
“He started a fight at Centerfolds. Someone called the cops.”
“What the feck was he doing at Centerfolds?” Will asked.
She shrugged. “Probably thought Seamus wouldn’t find out.”
“Then he shouldn’t have started belting the other customers.”
“Agreed.” Bridget looked around. “Do they have waiters?”
“Not this time of night,” Will said.
She stood, her eyes passing over Nolan on their way to Will. “You guys want anything?”
Nolan shook his head.
“I’ll take another beer,” Will said. “Nolan’s driving.”
She grabbed her wallet out of her bag and started for the bar.
“You going to sulk all night?” Will asked when she was out of earshot.
Nolan took a drink of his beer. “I’m not sulking. Just don’t have anything to say yet.”
“You’re probably going to have to talk to her if we’re going to work together on this Seamus thing.”
“We’re not working together,” Nolan said. “I’m telling you both the bare minimum of what you need to know to help me solve the problem.”
Will laughed. “Is that how it is then?”
“It is.”
“Look, I just want Mommy and Daddy to stop fighting,” Will said.
“Fuck you.”
“Back at you.”
Bridget came back to the table with her wallet tucked under her arm and a beer in each hand. She set one of them in front of Will and sat down.
He took a drink and looked at her approvingly. “Aw, Guinness Draught. You remembered.”
“Sorry to bring you both out to Cambridge,” Nolan said. Watching them settle into their old routines was painful, a reminder of everything they’d once had, everything they’d lost. “Figure it’s better if we’re not seen cozying up in the neighborhood.”