Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
And getting her to work with me will be a knife in her father’s heart.
He set the thought aside, refusing to allow it to show on his face. He had to play this slow, because if she’d been a good cop, that meant she was going to want to check him out—which was a big fat black mark against him. There was no way she wouldn’t equate him with Romanov, and getting into bed with one devil in order to take out another would reek of desperation.
Something he counted on.
Because if Charlotte Finch really wasn’t a dirty cop, she’d do damn near anything to clear her name and punish the one who’d orchestrated the whole thing.
Moving slowly, Aiden pulled out a card and held it out. “If you want to meet up and talk someplace more…neutral…give me a call. I think you’ll like what I have to say.” He waited for her to take it, reaching out to snatch it like he was a snake who might strike at any time.
She read the card, her brows raising. “There’s no such thing as neutral territory in New York. And I’m sure as hell not coming to Boston.”
That’s what you think.
Aiden gave a smile that made her take a step back despite his best efforts to be disarming. “The ball is in your court. You can toss that card in the nearest Dumpster, or you can call that number and let me help you right all the wrongs that Dmitri Romanov has done to you.”
Her lips parted, and the tiny part of him not locked completely down and under control wondered if she’d taste as good as she looked. Charlotte hesitated. “I’ll…think about it.”
“I’ll be waiting.” He had her. She might not realize it yet, but he did. Now it was only a matter of playing his cards to maneuver her into exactly the right position to maximize her benefit.
And to maximize the knife to John Finch’s throat once he realized his precious daughter was in bed with Aiden O’Malley.
Chapter Twenty
Sloan’s mind was awhirl as they drove. So much had happened in such a short time, and she didn’t know where to start in order to wrap her head around it. Jude was a MacNamara—the sole remaining MacNamara. He’d killed Sheridans, and had fully intended on killing Sorcha and Callie before she’d come along.
She was reaching and she knew it, but she also didn’t overestimate what he felt for her. Lust? Most definitely. But Jude was a cold and calculating man outside the bedroom. There was absolutely no way he would be swayed from his course—unless he hadn’t wanted to be on it to begin with. Finding out Callie was pregnant was likely just the straw that broke the camel’s back.
She wanted to know for sure, though. Sloan shifted to face him, studying the way his face was illuminated by the lights in the dashboard. “Why did it take you a year to track down Sorcha?”
“It wasn’t because I was having second thoughts, if that’s what you’re hoping for.” He drummed his fingers on the wheel. “Sorcha has spent her entire life avoiding being found by men like me—because she has a track record of crossing men like me.”
Which was why Sloan really needed to call Teague and let him know everything that had happened.
She wanted answers first. “And Ronan? If you wanted Colm dead so badly, why not let his own son do it? That betrayal would cut deeper than anything you could do to him.” She struggled to keep her tone even, as if she was merely curious. What would Callie do if she knew Ronan might have put her in the line of fire?
“You’re right.” Jude went still, his gaze never leaving the road. “But it takes a special kind of monster to plot the murder of his father. I don’t give two shits about the other families in Boston, but Ronan would have made Brendan Halloran look like a lumbering idiot if he was in control of the Sheridans.”
“You don’t know that.” She’d heard stories about Brendan Halloran. She didn’t like thinking that someone like that could have been related to Callie.
Someone she loved. Someone she mourned.
“I know that. He hid it better than most, but he was his father’s son.” Jude finally tore his eyes from the road to look at her. “Which way are you going on this? Are you painting me as some kind of romantic vigilante? Or am I the monster that other monsters fear?”
She burst out laughing. She couldn’t help it. He sounded so damn snarly at the thought that she might think either of him. “You’re a man, Jude. You have a more colorful past than most, but I understand your reasoning for wanting Colm to pay. I just don’t think you should run around murdering people.”