Page 5 of Dublin Beast
I don’t want to be sitting in a car. I want to be closing the distance between me and Siobhan-fucking-Daley.
Logan pulls onto the road, glancing at us through the rearview mirror. “So, where are we headed?”
Kieran leans back, stretching his arm over the back seat like he owns the damn car. “I’ve got a man we need to meet up with. An informant who’s got eyes on certain movements within your fair city.”
Logan hums, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. “And this informant—does he have a name?”
Kieran’s grin is sharp. “Not one you need to worry about.”
A chuckle slips from Logan, low and knowing. “Fair enough.”
I shift in my seat, rolling the tension from my neck. Every second wasted is another second Siobhan is breathing the same fucking air as people I care about.
The thought claws at me, a slow-burning fury winding through my chest. She killed Da. She betrayed us all. And now she’s hiding behind a task force like it’ll save her.
But it won’t.
The city presses in around us as Logan maneuvers through the streets, weaving past black cabs and double-decker buses. The farther we get from Gatwick, the heavier the air feels—too many people, too many unknowns.
Dublin is chaos, but it’s our chaos.
This? This is a different kind of battlefield.
Kieran, unfazed as ever, slouches in the backseat, flicking through his phone like we’re not in the middle of a goddamn manhunt.
“Where am I going next?” Logan’s gaze flicks to the rearview mirror.
“Left at the next side street. He says there’s a brick warehouse by the train bridge.”
Logan takes the left and drives toward the overpass bridge at the end. “I hope this guy is as good as you think. I don’t want to be your chauffeur any longer than I have to.”
Kieran smirks. “Oh, he’s worth it. My guy’s been running tech for half of lowlife London since before I had chest hair. He can fence goods, manipulate CCTV, and get into places most people can’t. But for the right price…” he winks, “he can do just about anything.”
Logan exhales through his nose. “And here I thought you Irish liked to do things the old-fashioned way. Rough up a few blokes, crush some skulls, shoot some kneecaps?—”
I grunt. “That’s where I come in. That’s phase two.”
Logan chuckles, slowing down to pull to the side along a chain-link fence. “I’m looking forward to that. Much more my speed.”
Kieran reaches for the handle and steps out into the mid-morning chill. “Lenny can get a bit dodgy. He manages to stay alive because he’s useful. He ain’t my friend, but he is my contact, so play nice. Och, and watch your wallets.”
The front of the brick warehouse has a graffiti-tagged metal door wedged between two shuttered storefronts. The whole place stinks of piss and fried food. Not the kind of neighborhood you come to by accident.
I rub a hand over my nose to lessen the stench stinging my sinuses. “You take me to the nicest places.”
Kieran meets my gaze and grins. “Come on, big guy. Let’s go make you a new friend.”
I follow, my boots crunching on wet pavement.
Logan stays at my side, pulling the collar of his coat up as he mutters. “What the fuck did I do to deserve this?”
I chuckle. “How the fuck should I know? Did you fuck the wrong woman? Piss in someone’s beer?”
Logan arches a dark brow and scoffs. “That’s just another Thursday night in London, mate.”
Kieran pounds twice on the metal door, then once more after a beat. A second later, a muffled curse sounds from inside, followed by the screech of rusted hinges.
The man who appears in the doorway is small, twitchy, and balding despite him looking no older than forty-five. His brown eyes are a little too close together and dart between us before he huffs. “Christ, Kieran, I keep a low profile for a reason. You could’ve warned me you were bringing half of Dublin.”
