Irish Kiss Page 32

  “You didn’t have to do all that for me, you know?” I said when I pulled back, my breath a little heavier, my body a little warmer.

  “I know. I wanted to.” His pulled away and walked over to his dresser. “I have something for you.”

  “Diarmuid!”

  What? More? He’d already spent too much.

  He turned towards me, hiding something behind his back, a sly grin on his face. “I was gonna give this to you on Monday night, but…”

  I shook my head even though I was smiling. “What have you done, Diarmuid?”

  “Hold your hands out.”

  I did. Into my palms he dropped a small velvet jewelry box.

  Oh shit.

  “What have you done?” I asked again, this time my voice a mere squeak.

  “I didn’t give you a birthday present this year yet.”

  I blinked at him. “You…”

  “I know I didn’t have to,” he said, taking the words out of my mouth, somehow knowing what I was about to say before I said it.

  It was another charm. It had to be.

  I cracked open the box.

  But it wasn’t a charm.

  There, nestled in the navy velvet cushion, was a key.

  I pulled it out, frowning.

  “It’s…a bit big for my charm bracelet,” I said, immediately regretting it because it made me sound so damn ungrateful.

  He laughed. “Silly selkie. It doesn’t go on your charm.”

  “Then where does it—”

  I knew where this key belonged. Which door it fit.

  My eyes widened. “Is this a key to your house?”

  He nodded, his features serious. “I never want you to have to wait on my porch again. Besides, you already have the key to my heart. I thought you’d like this one to match it.”

  He winked at me.

  I laughed and threw my arms around his neck. I whispered, “Best present ever.”

  65

  ____________

  Diarmuid

  Weeks went by. Saoirse and I fell into a routine. On the days she worked, she stayed at her house. On the other days, she stayed with me. I’d pick her up from a few blocks over from her house so her neighbours didn’t get suspicious and tell her da.

  At my house, we’d cook dinner together, watch movies, play board games. It was perfect bliss in our own little bubble, far removed from the rest of the world. The rest of the world who wouldn’t think twice about judging us without knowing us.

  We made love—God, did we make love—all over the kitchen, the couch, the shower, the bed, basically anywhere I could lay her or press her up against.

  It was only when we had to leave the bubble—and each other—that things grew tense.

  Niall fucking Lynch kept the pressure on at work for me to find something on Liam by squeezing Saoirse. This secret I was keeping from Saoirse started off as a splinter and it grew until it felt like an abscess, ready to burst.

  I could not keep going like this.

  I had to tell Saoirse.

  But she’d never forgive me if I helped put her father away.

  66

  ____________

  Saoirse

  I stood at the end of a table of trays, the bottoms lined with white crystals.

  The first batch was done. Perfected, actually. This meth was as pure as it could get.

  But the surge of satisfaction of a job well done was hampered by a growing unease.

  This drug had killed my mother. It had ruined her life well before she’d died. Now I was about to send more of it out into the world.

  I was suddenly overcome with the urge to throw all the trays aside.

  “I’m proud of you, baby girl.” My da grabbed my shoulder and squeezed.

  Not even the warmth of his pride could fully overcome this sickening feeling I had.

  “Thanks,” I said limply.

  I couldn’t keep doing this. I couldn’t.

  During the manufacturing process I was able to switch off, pretend it was something else I was cooking, follow the process like an unemotional detached machine. But now…

  My father spoke about distribution and his investors, things I had no desire to hear.

  “…and check out the cool packaging I came up with.”

  He pulled something from his back pocket, a flat, clear plastic sealable bag—a baggie—about the size of a playing card, and held it up to me, a logo branding one side in shimmering blue ink.

  I snatched it out of his hand, the blood draining from my face.

  There on the baggie was Diarmuid’s selkie tattoo.

  “W-What? How?” I gripped the edge of the plastic, my hands shaking.

  “I saw the drawing of the selkie you’d doodled on a bit of paper at home. I liked the design and thought it represented you and your product perfectly.”

  Oh my God. I was going to be sick.

  I was going to be fucking sick.

  All of this meth was going to be distributed throughout Ireland carrying Diarmuid’s selkie tattoo that he’d gotten for me.

  “D-do you have to use that design?”

  My da frowned. “What’s wrong with it?”

  Everything.

  But he couldn’t know the reason. I couldn’t tell him.

  “I just…feel weird having something I drew on your packaging.”

  My da tucked his hand around the back of my neck and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Don’t worry, no one will be able to trace it back to you.”

  Except somebody could.

  What the hell was I going to do?

  “You okay, baby girl?” my da asked.

  I had to pretend everything was okay.

  I forced a smile, trying to shove my panic down.

  “Yeah fine. Just…tired.” I shoved the baggie into the back pocket of my jeans and grabbed my bag. “I’m ready to go home.”

  “Yeah sure, baby girl. Just ten more minutes while I check on some stuff. Go raid the fridge.”

  Fuck. I didn’t want to stay here, not for another second. I hated not having my own car. I still had a few more months where my licence was suspended. But I didn’t care. I needed a way to leave this place when I wanted to. Otherwise I was trapped.

  “I’ll wait here,” I said. “But I need my own car, Da, if I’m going to keep working out here in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Anything for my baby girl,” my da called out over his shoulder.

  Only when I was alone did I press my face into my hands and squeeze my eyes shut. I had to tell Diarmuid. I had to tell him before he found out.

  How could I tell him?

  The next day I waited on a predetermined corner as Diarmuid’s truck pulled up. He jumped out and pressed me into the door of the truck, roping his fingers into my hair and kissing me as if it’d been years since he’d seen me. He kissed me as if I was everything.

  As if I was perfect.

  I wasn’t.

  As if I wasn’t guilty.

  I was.

  I pushed him away and ducked my head aside. “Someone might see.”

  “Let them see.”

  He leaned in for another kiss, which I avoided.

  He frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  You’re going to realise how much of a liar I am. How bad I am. I’m going to lose you.

  I opened my mouth to confess…

  I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t lose that tender look in his hazel eyes. I couldn’t lose his kisses.

  “Nothing,” I lied.

  “Okay…” He opened the door for me, watching me warily.

  I jumped into his truck and closed the door before he could ask me again. Before my horrible secret tumbled from my mouth. There had to be a way for me to tell Diarmuid and for me not to lose him. Maybe… Maybe he’d never find out?

  Diarmuid walked around to the driver’s side. I realised I was half sitting on a stack of papers. I pulled out the stack of papers from underneath me. They looked like three or four thin brochu
res amongst papers.

  I frowned when I caught my name on the salutation on the top paper. I flicked through them. They were all addressed to me.

  “What’s this?” I demanded, turning to Diarmuid as soon as he slid into his seat.

  A wave of guilt crossed his face. “I forgot I’d left them there. I was going to show you…”

  “Show me what?”

  “They’re brochures from various universities that are open for scholarship applications. If you applied, they’d be mad not to take you. You wouldn’t have to wait a whole year to start studying.” He started the truck and pulled us out of the parking lot onto the road.

  I leafed through the papers and brochures, my eyes bulging. “This university’s in Canada. This one is in Australia.”

  “All the universities in Ireland are closed for applications until next year. You said so yourself.”

  My gaze snapped to his, a sudden realisation clawing at my chest making it hard to breathe. “You’re trying to get rid of me.”

  “What? No!” he protested.

  Tears rimmed my eyes. I tried to blink away the sting, but it didn’t work. “You want me but you’re embarrassed about me. I’m a nuisance to you. It’d be better for you if I just went away.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Why are you sending me away?”

  “I’m not sending you away. Saoirse, I just want you to know what else is out there. You don’t want to stay in Limerick your whole life, do you?”

  That’s when I realised that Diarmuid didn’t see a future between us. Whatever it was that we were doing together in secret, it would one day end. And soon, if I did go to university overseas.

  “I thought we…” My voice broke. I sucked in a breath, steeled myself and tried again. “I thought you and I had a connection.”

  “We do.”

  “Why are you trying to break it?”

  “Even if we have a connection, you’re so young.”

  “I fucking hate it when everyone says that.”

  “It’s true. You might hate it but it’s true. I don’t want you saddled with an old man like me.”

  “You’re not old.”

  He snorted. “No, I’m not old. But I’m old enough to know better.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, my nerves twanging.

  “What if…” I began. “What if this is the life that I want? To stay here in Limerick and be with…someone?” I didn’t have the nerve to say his name. I opened my eyes, searching his face for his reaction. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to stay in Limerick and be someone’s wife.”

  His jaw ticked. “There is something wrong with it if the only reason you’re choosing that life is because you don’t know anything different. Jesus,” Diarmuid let out an exasperated sigh, “just look at the brochures, just think about it.”

  “Why do you care whether I go to college or not?”

  “Because,” he yelled, “you have more potential in your middle finger than all the teenagers I’ve mentored in my whole life. You have a chance to get out of here, to make something of yourself. I will not let you destroy it.”

  I sank back into my seat, the air inside the truck reverberating at the fury in his voice, my heart silently breaking.

  “How will you know for sure if you don’t see what else is out there? Don’t choose me—” he halted. “Don’t choose this life because you are ignorant of the other possibilities. You could do anything, Saoirse, be anyone.”

  “Except be yours.” I whispered. “I’ll never really be yours.”

  67

  ____________

  Diarmuid

  “Take me home,” Saoirse said.

  I flinched. I hadn’t been sure how Saoirse was gonna take these college brochures. I didn’t think she would react this badly.

  “Saoirse,” I tried.

  “Just take me home. Please.”

  Her jaw was clenched, her lips pressed together in a line. Arms crossed over her chest, eyes looking everywhere except at me.

  I knew better than to push things when Saoirse was in this mood. I knew better than to try and explain. My best bet was to give her some space and wait until she calmed down. Then I’d have a chance of talking to her.

  Knowing this, I did what she asked. I dropped her off near her house.

  She jumped out before I could kiss her goodbye, slamming the door and running away from me without a word.

  By the next afternoon she still hadn’t responded to any of my texts. I sat at my desk at work unable to concentrate, tearing at my hair. I thought getting those college brochures for her was the right thing to do. Apparently not.

  I hated that she was mad at me. I hated that she didn’t want to talk. Not knowing how she was feeling, what she was thinking, was like an itch under my skin that I couldn’t scratch.

  I glanced at the clock. She had mentioned previously that she was working today. She should still be in the middle of her shift at the café. She’d be mad if I just showed up, but I couldn’t take any more of this radio silence.

  I got into my truck and slammed the door shut, sticking the key in the ignition. The passenger seat to my left was empty. Empty of Saoirse. Of the brochures that she’d taken with her, despite her anger at me. That was what had given me hope that she might come around. My heart felt like it was ripping apart when I thought of her leaving me, but I could not hold her back. I would not hold her back.

  She had the most beautiful wings I’d ever seen.

  She had to fly.

  My eye caught on a small piece of plastic on her seat. I grabbed it, about to crumple it up and chuck it in the small trash compartment when I realised what it was.

  A small baggie.

  The kind that drugs came in.

  What the fuck? This wasn’t mine. Someone must’ve dropped it in here.

  And there had only been one person who I’d let into that passenger seat in the last few weeks.

  Then I turned it over and saw the logo on it.

  It was the selkie, the exact selkie I had tattooed over my heart.

  I barrelled into the café that Saoirse worked at, almost knocking a customer over. I muttered my apologies and scanned the place for the familiar blonde head, but I couldn’t see her.

  “Can I help you?” A short dark-haired waitress walked up to me, weariness in her eyes.

  “Where’s Saoirse? I need to talk to her.”

  The waitress frowned. “Oh, Saoirse hasn’t worked here for weeks.”

  She…

  Why would she lie to me?

  Where was she working if not here?

  The blood drained from my limbs as an awful thought filtered through my head.

  Apples don’t fall far from the tree.

  I sat down the block from Saoirse’s house in a dark sedan, one of the unmarked vehicles from work because my truck was too familiar. I watched as Saoirse got into the driver’s seat of a new Audi. Flashy car. Was that hers? Or her da’s? And why the hell was she driving? She hadn’t gotten her licence back yet.

  She pulled out into the street and I followed her, making sure to remain far enough in the distance so as not to be made. I trailed her out of the city limits of Limerick into the countryside.

  If that was Liam or any of his men, they might have picked me following them on these remote roads. They might have doubled back or taken a different route. But Saoirse was too young, too innocent. She didn’t know how to avoid being followed.

  Twenty minutes later on a deserted single-lane country road, she took a right turn into a driveway up ahead.

  I slowed down as I passed. Her car was disappearing through an open gate, two men with guns manning it. Guns, for fuck’s sake.

  I kept driving. I drove and I drove, my head spinning.

  Surely this was some mistake. Why was Saoirse entering a farmhouse guarded by men with guns?

  Later that night, when everyone had gone home, I sat at my work desk, the Garda property database open on my com
puter. Based on the GPS in my car I worked out the coordinates of the farmhouse, and subsequently, the address.

  I pulled up the ownership details on my computer screen. The property was held by an Irish shell company with very little information on it.

  I dug further. The paper trail led to a parent company based out of Switzerland, one of Europe’s tax havens. It took a couple of phone calls and threats to uncover the details. It was co-owned by none other than Liam Byrne.

  I found it. Liam’s place of operation. And by the look of the baggie Saoirse had somehow dropped in my car, it wasn’t just weed they were producing now.

  She was producing.

  I couldn’t believe that Saoirse had anything to do with her father’s business.

  But then again, maybe I could. Hadn’t I done bad things too? Hadn’t I crossed that line as a teenager?

  A daughter with such a brilliant understanding of chemistry must have been an incredible discovery for an opportunist like Liam.

  How dare he use his own fucking daughter.

  How did he convince her? What did he offer her? What did he tempt her with? His love? His affection? Or maybe it was more insidious. Maybe he threatened her?

  Saoirse was a good person. She didn’t deserve to go to jail.

  But I was sitting on information, information I was duty-bound to do something with.

  The question was, what?

  68

  ____________

  Saoirse

  Diarmuid: I need to see you tonight. Please.

  Diarmuid’s text burned a hole in my phone. It’d been days since I’d seen him and I missed him like a hole in my soul, like a hunger that would not go away. But I couldn’t bring myself to see him right now.

  It wasn’t just about the college brochures. It was my guilt over hiding what I had been doing for my father.

  After I ran from Diarmuid’s car, I called my da, crying. I’d managed to convince him to let me out of his business once I’d set up the manufacturing process and trained his staff. It could be taken over by almost anyone once they were trained properly.