"Understood."
The line goes dead. I hand back the phone.
"Easier than expected," I admit.
"Family protects family. Right now, stopping Moran protects family." He pockets the device. "Cillian's practical about useful alliances."
I turn to the evidence. "I need to contact someone at Bureau headquarters. Off the books."
"Someone clean?"
"Rachel Martinez. Trained me at Quantico, now assigned to Los Angeles." I consider risks. "She's solid, but reaching out exposes us both."
"Do it."
Using Eamon's encrypted phone, I dial from memory. Rachel answers quickly.
"Quinn? You're supposed to be underground in Boston."
"I am. Listen—I need help with a corruption case. Unofficial channels only."
"How dirty?"
"Agent-in-charge dirty. Multiple years. Organized crime partnerships." I glance at Eamon. "People die if this reaches wrong ears."
"Copy that. What do you need?"
We establish secure protocols for evidence transfer. Rachel agrees to investigate Byrne through back channels, cross-referencing his career advancement with organized crime prosecutions.
"Dangerous territory, Sorcha," she warns.
"Story of my life."
After disconnecting, I find Eamon organizing family documents. Financial records, security reports, attack summaries—everything needed to build our case.
"Your brother moves fast."
"When family's threatened." He gestures at the papers. "Every Moran hit over three years. Dates, methods, casualties."
I compare his files to my Bureau records. The pattern screams corruption—every successful attack followed Byrne's communications with unknown contacts.
"This is gold," I say, excitement building. "Combined with Rachel's investigation..."
"We'll bury them," Eamon finishes.
Working together, we map connections between dirty agents, Moran operations, and attacks on Kavanagh interests. Despite everything between us, our skills mesh perfectly. His street knowledge, my federal training.
Hours blur past. Evidence builds into undeniable proof. As night falls, we break for food—Chinese takeout eaten in focused silence.
"Tomorrow I contact Byrne," I say, reviewing our strategy. "Feed him false intelligence about your operations while recording everything."
"Risky play. If he suspects..."
"We're dead." I hold his gaze. "But if we succeed, Byrne and Moran both burn."
Eamon shoves back from the table, hands raking through dark hair. "Why trust you? You've lied about everything since we met."
The question cuts deep. I could offer professional justifications about common enemies and mutual benefit. Instead, I give him truth.
