Sister Death (Acid Vanilla Series Book 4), Matthew Hattersley [best book club books for discussion .TXT] 📗

“You’re amazing, ya know that.”

She glared at him. “Does this sort of shit usually work for you?”

The comment sent him fumbling with the label on his bottle, picking at the edges. But he couldn’t hide his smile. It was a good smile. “Aye, usually it does. But then I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake.” Even for her the eye-roll was dramatic. She sipped at her beer, her voice dropping to a sombre tone. “What were you talking about with the barman?”

“Carlos? He’s a good lad, good craic.” His face fell serious. “I didn’t tell him anything of course. About you. Or the Sister Death, whatever she’s called.”

“Good to know.” She leaned her head back against the wall. “I’ve got to say, Daniel, you do seem to be taking this whole situation in your stride. Getting shot at. A price put on your head.”

A cheeky smirk lit up his face. “Maybe I’m too stupid to realise the enormity of my predicament.”

She leaned over, eyes narrowed as she spoke. “I don’t think so.”

“Look, I’ve been dealing antiques for a long time, back in Dublin and in London. You meet a lot of dodgy people in that environment. I’ve been in plenty of scrapes over the years so that I’ve learnt to live on my wits. I’ve had guns pulled on me many times before. Although, granted, this is the first time I’ve had a price put on my head. That I know of, at least.” He winked. “There’s probably a few girls out there who thought about it.”

“I bet.”

Pushing his beer to one side, he folded his forearms on the table and leaned closer. If that wasn’t disconcerting enough, the wry smile and spark in his eyes most definitely was.

“So come on then, tell me what it’s like being a hit woman.”

“Why, you thinking of becoming one?”

“How many people have ya killed?”

She shook her head, tutting. “Oh no. You never ask a person that. Anyway, I’m not… one of those. Not anymore.”

“What happened?”

She stared at him as she took another swig from the bottle. He wasn’t going to let it go. “Let’s say I had the decision made for me.”

“You were pushed?”

“Sort of.” She tipped her head back, swallowed the last of the beer. “Though I had been feeling restless. Which I suppose was what led me to make a few mistakes, errors of judgement, that really pissed off my boss.”

“I see. What did he do?”

She rolled the empty beer bottle in her palm. “He made his point,” she said softly.

“Oh?”

“He took out an innocent. Someone close to me who had nothing to do with that world. The only person I had left.”

“Shite, I’m sorry,” he muttered, the cocksure smile replaced with one of sympathy. “Must be hard.”

She shrugged it away. “It is what it is. I’m making my peace with it. Day by day.”

“You don’t want revenge?” he asked. And when she didn’t answer, he added, “Does the crazy nun have something to do with all this, by any chance?”

Acid peered at him watching her all wide-eyed and eager. Maybe not as dumb as he looked. He was joining dots quicker than she expected. Or liked.

He finished his beer and brought the bottle back to the table. “So this is personal for you. And there was me thinking you were saving my arse cos ya liked me.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, Romeo.” She leaned back. “But all right. Yes. It’s personal. Maybe too personal, I don’t know.”

“How’s that?”

“My friend Spook, she thinks I have unhealthy obsessions. A tendency to fixate.” She sniffed, annoyed at herself. “Sorry, you don’t need to know any of this.”

Here she was, oversharing once again. A sure sign she was slipping into the red. The fact she’d been wondering what Danny looked like naked these last few minutes was another.

“You have a friend called Spook?”

She smiled. “Yes. And that is her real name.”

“Acid and Spook? Jesus Christ. And what is it you call my uncle again, The Dullahan? Shite on a bike, am I in some bad superhero movie?”

“We’re trying to save your arse, sunshine. Have some respect.”

He scowled at her. “Oh I do. I respect you very much, Acid. I was only thinking just now how much respect I’d like to give ya.”

“You never turn it off, do you?” she said, letting a sly smile escape across her lips.

Danny lifted his shoulders. “Man’s got to try. Which reminds me.” He reached around and removed something from his jeans pocket. “Here.” He dangled a key in front of her.

“What’s that?”

“A key.”

“Yes, I can see it’s a key, Danny. What does it open?”

He gestured at the bar. “Carlos has a little flat around the corner. Rents it out, but it’s empty presently. He said we could stay there a few nights. Ya know, whilst we work out how to steal the other egg.”

“Ah no. Not happening.” She placed her hands palms down on the table. Resolute. “Today was too close. I need to get you to the airport and back home.”

“The hell with that. I need that egg. Kaminski’s going to kill me if I don’t get it.” He stared at her, his eyes full of concern and pleading. “C’mon, Acid. Help me. I’ll make it worth your while, I promise ya. It’s a lot of money.”

Shit.

Her thoughts flashed to Spook and the debt she owed for her care. Then to that grimy terraced house she’d put up with for the last year. Surely she owed it to herself to find somewhere more comfortable, more conducive for her mental health.

The stool scraped across the stone floor as she got to her feet and snatched the key from his hand. “Come on then, Romeo,” she said. “We’ve got work to do.”

Twenty-Four

The sliver of a new moon hung above the rooftops as Acid followed Danny across the empty street towards the apartment building on the corner of the next block. Her mind was already scrambled with chaotic thoughts and