Irish Throwdown (What Happens In Vegas Book 4) by Matt Lincoln (short books for teens .TXT) 📕

muttered bitterly. “But not for anything as important as that. No, he just left me behind so he could save his own arse. He had a feeling you’d be coming, and he told me to stay back and hold you off while he went on his merry way. Finnian expects loyalty but gives none in return. We’re all just disposable pawns to him. To tell the truth, I only stuck by him because it was a safer bet than going along with what—with the other guy’s plan. He probably expected me to roll over and die for him, stay loyal to the end. Well, he’s got another think comin’.”

He seemed genuinely upset, understandable for a guy who’d done so much dirty work for someone only to be used as a sacrificial pawn in the end. Maybe he really was our key to finding Finnian.

“The other boss you mentioned, is he the one who sent us the cough syrup?” I asked. I studied him closely for any sign of a reaction to my words.

“The what now?” He raised an eyebrow at me. “I have no idea what he has or hasn’t done. I already told you that he’s been missing for…” he trailed off, and I saw a glint in his eyes as something finally connected in his mind. “Wait just a moment. Are you saying what I think you’re saying? That voice on the telly was him? He’s the one who sent you after the boss?”

His voice rose in pitch as he spoke, and an unsettling smile was spreading across his face. This proved that, at the very least, he hadn’t been privy to the other boss’s plans. He looked positively thrilled at what he was hearing.

“I knew he wouldn’t just abandon us.” Patrick beamed. “To think he pulled off something like this! Ha! Best of luck to you in catching old Finnian, agent. I truly do mean that.”

He continued to chuckle maliciously even as I pushed my chair away from the table with a scrape and stood up. I had the information that I needed, and I didn’t think I would have any luck in prying the identity of the ‘other boss’ out of him, so as far as I was concerned, this interview was done.

“You go ahead, Agent Hills,” Seamus turned to address me from his seat. “I need to have a few more words with our guest here about this friend in the Garda.”

“Oh, come off it, old man,” Patrick snorted. “I already told you, I’m not going to snitch on my pal.”

“We’ll see about that,” Seamus muttered darkly. Internal matters involving the Garda weren’t any of my business, so I turned on my heel and slipped quietly out of the room. Junior was seated just outside. He’d watched the entire interrogation through the two-way mirror on the other side, and now he was staring pensively off into space, as though thinking over what he’d just heard.

“I don’t think he’s lying,” he sighed as I took a seat next to him. “For the first time since we started this mission, I don’t feel like we’re walking into the perp’s trap.”

“I agree.” I nodded as I watched Seamus and Patrick through the glass. “I have a feeling things are going to get messier than they already are, though. Familial relationships can bring out the best and worst in people. When it comes to the mob, loyalty is everything. The fact that their organization has fractures to the point where everyone is turning on one another means we can’t trust anyone.”

We sat in silence for a few more minutes as we watched Seamus become visibly angrier while Patrick kept a stoic and bored expression on his face.

“Let’s go get some sleep,” Junior suggested as he stood up from his chair and stretched. “We’ll be striking tomorrow night, right? We should catch up on as much rest as we can before then.”

“Great idea,” I replied.

I’d been running off coffee, adrenaline, and the occasional bit of alcohol for nearly seventy-two hours now. As much as I loved the heart-pumping excitement that came with being face-to-face with danger, even I had my limits. Right now, I wanted nothing more than to take a long, steaming hot shower before collapsing into bed.

28

Junior

I woke up to the sound of raindrops tapping against the window of my hotel room. It was a relaxing noise, and since our mission to capture Finnian at the port wouldn’t begin until well after dark, I was sorely tempted to just fall back asleep. Charlie and I had been running all over Ireland almost non-stop since we’d gotten off the plane. I'd barely been able to sleep the first night after hearing about what happened to Fiona, and then I’d ended up pulling an all-nighter as we tried to figure out where the bomb had been hidden. I’d forced myself to have a thorough shower the previous evening and then promptly lost consciousness the second my head hit the pillow.

I might have actually fallen back asleep if it hadn’t been for my phone, which chose that exact moment to ring. I groaned as I untangled myself from the thick down comforter and reached over to the nightstand where I’d left my phone charging last night. I immediately felt more awake when I saw that it was Fiona calling me.

“Hello?” I answered as I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes.

“Hey, Junior,” she replied. I could tell she was smiling by the tone of her voice. “Were you still asleep?”

“Oh, no,” I replied. “Well, yeah, but I had literally just woken up. You didn’t wake me up.”

“It’s like eleven in the morning over there.” She chuckled. “You’re still in bed?”

“There’s no way it is.” I frowned as I pulled the phone away from my ear to check the time. To my surprise, it really was a little past eleven in the morning.

“I overslept,” I groaned into the phone as I threw the covers off entirely and sat up in