‘No way am I begging anything from this guy,’ McGuire gruffly said over the top of her.
‘If you let your pride intervene, you won’t be able to get justice for your two friends. They were both brave soldiers who didn’t deserve to be tortured to death. You know full well that you’re the only person who can avenge those brutal murders.’ Kate shot McGuire a meaningful glance. ‘But you won’t be able to do that if you’re apprehended by the authorities.’
Cædmon watched the exchange, glimpsing a moment’s hesitation in the other man’s eyes. Unknowingly, Kate had brought up the rear and struck a nerve, all in one fell swoop.
I might yet win the battle.
Having no qualms about kicking the commando when he was down, Cædmon said, ‘For Kate’s sake, I won’t turn you over to the police … provided you make a full confession to Father Cædmon.’
28
‘I need some fresh air.’ Purposefully testing his jailer’s limits, Finn didn’t wait for a reply. Opening the back door on the Citroën, he got out, slamming the door behind him. To his surprise, Aisquith made no move to stop him.
Why expend the energy? It wasn’t like he could fly the coop. The place was crawling with cops, one of ’em propped against a dark blue Yamaha bike no more than thirty feet away.
Strolling to the back of the vehicle, Finn leaned against the Citroën’s hatch, crossing his feet at the ankles and his arms over his chest. The cop glared at him; he glared right back.
The English bastard was clever, he’d give him that. But goddamn the man. Just when he’d been so close to apprehending the Dark Angel. Shit! Back to square one. Except he now had Aisquith trying to nail his dick to the wall.
Thank you, Mickey.
Because that’s what really had Aisquith up in arms, the fact that his brother had ‘aided and abetted’ Irish rebels who refused to accept the Good Friday Peace Agreement.
Hearing a car door open, he didn’t bother to turn his head. A few seconds later, just as he figured, Kate materialized at his side. Anxious expression a given.
‘Don’t worry. I’m not planning a prison break,’ he assured her. ‘Just taking a breather while I consider the Scarlet Pimpernel’s magnanimous offer.’
Kate sidled next to him, the curve of her outer hip brushing against his leg. ‘Is it true?’
‘That I have a twin brother? Guilty as charged. Although Mickey’s the one with the goatee. That’s how you can tell us apart.’
‘That’s not what I meant, Finn.’
Don’t I know it? Little Katie wanted to know if Mychal McGuire really was a gunslinging gangster.
Always uncomfortable when the topic of family came up, he stared at his boot tip. On the plus side, his brother loved Irish music, beautiful women and shooting the breeze. But in the debit column, he loved robbing banks, running guns and snorting coke. Which made Mickey a big-league criminal. His mother used to say that Finn got the brawn and Mickey got the brains. What a crock.
He shrugged, not sure what, exactly, Kate wanted to hear. ‘In all honesty, I have no friggin’ idea if Mickey did the things that Ass-wipe –’
‘Aisquith.’
‘– accused him of. Although …’ He hesitated, his gut churning, forced to admit that Mickey had taken his criminal activity to the next level. ‘There’s probably more than a little truth in Aisquith’s accusation. I won’t lie. My parents raised us to hate the English. What can I say? They were Irish Catholics from Derry. For the last seventeen years of his life, my old man carried a piece of lead in his back courtesy of a British soldier firing into an unarmed crowd of demonstrators.’ Finn shook his head, having heard the story so many times he could recite it in his sleep. ‘Fourteen people lost their lives on that Bloody Sunday. So I guess Da got off lucky.’
‘I can understand why your brother would harbour antipathy towards the English,’ Kate said quietly.
‘But that doesn’t give him a free pass to aid terrorists. Which I suppose makes him one of ’em,’ Finn added, refusing to split the difference. ‘And just so you know, I haven’t seen or spoken to Mickey in the last five years.’
‘We all have skeletons in our closet.’
‘Yeah, but mine are scarier than most.’
‘Change of subject –’ Kate glanced expectantly at him – ‘I actually do think it’s a magnanimous offer.’
Finn made no reply. Instead, he checked his watch, stalling for time. He then craned his neck and peered through the Citroën’s rear window; his jailor was busy rummaging through the glove compartment. Probably searching for a flask.
‘I don’t trust him,’ he said flatly, turning his head back in Kate’s direction.
‘But I do.’ Pivoting on her heel, she stepped directly in front of him. ‘For all his faults, past and present, I know that Cædmon Aisquith is a man of integrity. He will keep his end of the bargain.’ Kate put a placating hand on his crossed arms. Smiling wistfully, she said, ‘What choice do we have?’
Maybe it was the fact that she used the word ‘we’. Or that she’d been like a fierce lioness defending him to Aisquith. Maybe he just needed to make a physical connection. Whatever the reason, Finn pulled her towards him. To his surprise, Kate wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek squarely against his pectoral muscle.
For several long moments they held each other. Neither spoke. Neither moved. If Aisquith hadn’t been sitting a few feet away, Finn would have kissed her. If for no other reason than to find out if her lips were really as soft as he imagined.
I am a soldier on a mission. I do not need this kind of distraction.
Yeah, now tell that to a certain male organ.
Kate tipped her head to meet his gaze. ‘Well … ?’
The battle lost, Finn acquiesced with a brusque nod. ‘All right. Let him know that I’m ready to talk. And Kate –’ he grabbed her by the arm as she turned to leave, stopping her in mid-spin. ‘Let me do the talking. All right?’
‘Afraid I’ll steal the show?’ she teased, pulling her arm free.
That or tell the truth.
Stepping away from the Citroën, Finn waited for Aisquith to get out of the car, his gaze zeroing in on the slight bulge of tweed fabric under the other man’s left arm. Still pissed off, he recalled the bastard’s fast draw.
‘Okay, you win,’ Finn said grudgingly, the concession leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. ‘I’ll tell you about the murders.’
‘And the Black Sun tattoo?’
‘Yeah, that too. But I’ve already said everything that I’m going to say about my brother. Capiche?’
Aisquith was silent for several seconds. Then, eyes narrowing, he nodded his consent. ‘Agreed. Shall we adjourn to the café across the street?’
‘I think that’s a great idea,’ Kate said, hers the only smiling face. ‘I certainly could use a cappuccino.’
Turning his head, Finn sized up the joint. ‘Yeah, all right.’
Decision made, the three of them trooped across the street. Playing the gallant, Aisquith opened the door to the café, motioning Kate through.
At a glance, Finn could see that the establishment was low-key; a couple of suits, a couple of touristos, a couple of waiters. On the far left, behind the bar, was a back exit. About to bolt in that direction, he pulled up short when Aisquith slid his right hand under his tweed jacket, having gauged his intentions.