Irritation at his sarcasm causes my reply to drip with cynicism. “You literally just murdered someone for all of Boston to witness.”
He shoots me a dirty look. As if what I’ve said is the problem here, not the body he just cleaned up. “It’s different in New York. I can’t just run around handing out extra wads of cash to the guys in blue like I can here.”
“Then we don’t bring him back. I go to New York on a commercial flight. I get him somewhere secluded and get my answers myself.”
“You’re going to get answers yourself? Griffin, you just upchucked out there. How are you going to torture someone?”
I wave my hands in the air, tired of this conversation already. “I don’t know, Sean. I’ll remind myself what’s at stake here, force myself to think of puppies playing in a field and make it work.”
“You’ve never forced someone to give up information, have you?”
I shrug. “No, but I’ve been taught how to keep the secrets of the U.S. Military. I think I can get into the psyche of a six foot, 200 pound meathead without shedding an ounce of blood.”
“He has to die after you get your answers. Guns are too loud. Are you prepared to slit his throat? That’s the quickest, though messy.”
My nose scrunches in disgust. I’m definitely not prepared for this, but I’ll do it if I have to. It’s for Paddy, and it’s a way I can begin to apologize for my mistakes. “I’ll do it.”
Sean studies me, and I can’t tell if it’s a hint of concern or disapproval on his face. “There’s one more thing.”
“Oh? Did you bring me a trunk full of snakes? Just wanting to force me into all of my worst fears today, huh?”
He ignored my comment, continuing our conversation without so much as a smile. “Like I said earlier, I have everyone’s shit bugged. And Paddy’s coming here tonight.”
“Yeah?” My heart rate picks up, and I start to think of all the ways I can start my apology.
“And you have to pretend like you know nothing. He’s going to offer you a marriage proposal. You’re going to resist but eventually accept.”
I open my mouth to protest, but he holds his hand up to stop me. “Callum has a plan that only works if you marry Paddy. I don’t care about what that means for you two as a couple. I care about how it protects my brother from Giovanni Sorrentino. So you’re going to act like you don’t know about what happened to him until we have the proof to present to Callum.”
Folding my arms over my chest, I stand taller. Paddy deserves to know what really happened that night, and he shouldn’t have to wait a moment longer to learn what that bitch did to him. “I won’t lie to him.”
He huffs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “There’s no need to upset him until the baby is born. We can’t kill her before then, anyway.”
“Do you really think that Paddy will let you kill the mother of his son, regardless of what she did to him?”
“There won’t be a choice, Griffin. Camille will be in Boston on Friday. She needs to come here willingly, and we need everything to remain as it is. We have no control of her until she’s here. And when Callum learns of what she’s done, he won’t let her leave.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I know he’s right, but I also hate this. How in the hell am I supposed to pretend everything is okay when it isn’t? When I want to hug Paddy and tell him everything is okay, kiss him until we’re both unraveled, and start our journey of healing together. What Camille’s done is horrible, and I need him to know that we’re going to make it through this.
Though it pains me, I agree with Sean’s plan, and we hash out the details of exactly what’s going to happen. He convinces me that I should stay here, and he’ll take care of the guard, and then I spend three hours waiting for Paddy to show up on my door and beg for me to give him the forgiveness that he already has.
Chapter Sixteen
Theheavinessinmychest dissipates with each step we take together. Griffin isn’t being hostile toward me right now. He seems like he’s willing to listen to what I have to say. And as much as that makes my heart soar, I’m also dreading this. Because it’s going to seem like I’m here for an ulterior motive.
I open the door to the restaurant, stepping aside so Griffin can walk in first. His ass is taunting me so horribly in those faded blue jeans that I have to stifle my groan. I can’t be focusing on anything but what I’m here for. Number one, Griffin’s forgiveness. Number two, a marriage proposal that I know will go terribly wrong. Especially when he’ll probably believe it's a marriage of convenience and not one of love.
“Good evening. How many can I seat you for?” The hostess asks, her eyes settling on me for longer than I care to admit is comfortable.
“Two, please,” Griffin says. His voice is low and stern. In that way it always is when he knows someone in the room finds me attractive, and that I’m too uncomfortable to say anything.
I don’t like the attention I get. Sure, I’ve used it to my advantage plenty; I won’t deny that. But at the end of the day, I don’t enjoy it. It’s not fun being eyed by complete strangers while my date is ignored, or being hit on when I’m just trying to drop off mail at the post office. I’ve never been an overly sexual person, and being stared at like I’m nothing beyond the surface of my looks is uncomfortable.
Because beyond the blue eyes and dark hair, behind the dimples and the boyish smile, the muscles, and the expensive clothing, I’m a human being. Some days I’m a murderer, but some days I’m an intellectual that enjoys a game of chess. Some days I’m just a disabled veteran with a fucked up leg and an alcohol dependency. But every day? Every day, I’m more than a piece of ass to enjoy.
The hostess leads us to a small table in the back, dropping our menus before she leaves us. I glance at Griffin, who’s already opening his menu, a distraction so he doesn’t have to look at me.
“So. What do we need to discuss, Paddy?” he asks.
