Page 90 of Dirty Legacy

The hell we could’ve raised together.

“I’ll be in touch.” She stands, slipping her phone away and clutching the folder under her arm.

“That’s all? After I give you that golden nugget?”

“That’s more than you deserve.” She pauses and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Send your wife my best. I wish her nothing but health and good fortune.”

“You’re a better person than I am.”

“I know.”

Sinead leaves. I watch her go for a while alone at the counter. Still nobody takes the stool as if I’ve become toxic.

I’ve struck back against the Gallaghers. Blood for blood. Flames for flames. But like Sinead said, in the end, we’ll burn each other out and there won’t be anything left for the winner. Without Whelan backing, I’m fighting to a standstill at best.

Unless I can find another way out.

I leave after a while and find Deck waiting with my Mercedes. He seems eager as I approach. “How’d the meeting go? Make her understand how things are now?”

“I think she got the message.”

“Good.” He shows all his teeth. “We’re gonna make them bleed if they don’t back off.”

“I’m glad you’re having fun.”

“Best few weeks of my life.”

I grip his shoulder tighter than I need. “I’m glad you have my back.”

Deck’s massive smile fades. “It’s what family does.”

I hold his stare for a moment before climbing into the back of my car. The driver pulls away, leaving Deck on the sidewalk, watching us go.

28

ANGIE/CONNOR

Angie

Mom’s leg dangles over the side of the couch. She’s in sweats, a sweatshirt, and a nature documentary’s on TV. For the first time in a while, there’s no burning joint, no vape, no weed-stink. A big pile of gummies is perched on the coffee table.

“Since when did you get into edibles?” I tidy up, unable to help myself. There’s house staff to take care of this but Mom’s always been my responsibility. I can’t change that now.

“Oh, I don’t mind them. Whatever gets the magic in me is good in my book.”

“One time you said you’d rather chew leather than eat weed.”

“People change.”

I pause, folding a pair of sweats. “Seriously, why the change of heart?”

Mom groans and sits up on an elbow. “You want the truth? He told me not to say anything, but forget it. There’s no stopping you when you start asking questions.”

“Connor has something to do with this?”

“Your husband is a real—“ She hesitates at the look I give her. “He’s protective. Last night, he came storming in here, plucked my smoke from between my lips, put it out in my soda can, and told me, in very rude terms, that I will no longer be allowed to smoke in this house, especially if you’re going to be around.”

“Did he really? And you listened?”