The Darkness - Jason Pinter [56]
about this guy, it won't matter who it comes from."
"Curt," Henry said. "I can trust Curt."
"Maybe," Amanda said. "But who can he trust?"
Henry didn't seem like he could answer that, so he just
leaned back. "I don't know."
"Don't you think you might be putting him in danger?"
Amanda said.
"When I talk to him," Henry said, "I'll tell him everything. Including that we think they might have people
inside the PD. Curt is smart. If there's information to get,
he can get it without drawing suspicion."
"And how do you know he'll do it?"
Henry looked at her, his eyes full of confidence.
"Because Curt is like me."
"Yeah," she said. "I suppose he is. What are you going
to tell Jack?"
Henry sighed. Looked back over at the table. Stared
at the bottle of wine, debating pouring another glass. As
much as she enjoyed watching him pass out, watching
him breathe as he slept, she was kind of hoping he'd be
in the mood to fool around a little.
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"That's a little more complicated." He looked at her.
"I can't tell him."
"About Paulina?"
Henry nodded. "I have to cue Jack in on the lead, but
if he finds out I got it from Paulina, that I'd even spoken
to the woman who tried to ruin his career...he'd never
speak to me again. Plus Jack deserves better."
"From who?" Amanda asked.
"From me. I don't really know. But the bottom line is
that he doesn't need to know. Not right now. If we catch
this guy, it's old news. But for now...I can't do that to him."
"You know him better," Amanda said. "If you think it's
the right thing to do, then trust your judgment. But at some
point you need to tell him, because he'll eventually find out."
"I know and I will. But now's not that time. We're
getting close on this story, and I still need to know who
was really responsible for my brother's death. Somehow
this all connects with the Fury."
"So you do believe this boogeyman exists."
"I think there's someone who knew about the plans to
kill my brother before anyone else, and maybe even
pulled the strings. Stephen was working for some sort of
cartel, and in every organization, legitimate or not, there's
someone at the top of the ladder."
"You think that might be this guy?"
Henry shook his head. "The CEOs never get their hands
dirty. They have people below them to do that for them. If
this person does exist, he's been able to hide in the shadows
because he didn't take stupid risks. The blond guy is acting
on this person's behalf. So even if he's not the gold at the
end of the rainbow, he knows where the pot is located."
"So what are you then, some sort of freaky ass leprechaun?"
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Henry laughed. "Got me the luck of the Irish."
"You're not Irish," Amanda replied.
"Yeah, but Jack is. I knew he was back for a reason."
"Come to bed. I hear leprechauns are lucky."
"Are lucky, or get lucky?"
Amanda stood up. Pulled her shirt over her head.
Smiled at him as he gazed up and down her body.
"I guess we'll have to find out."
22
The glass sat in front of him. Empty. The last remnants
of the liquid sloshed in his mouth, and he finally swallowed it, his taste buds begging for more.
"Fill it up, Jack?"
Jack O'Donnell looked at the bartender, a big Irish
bloke named Mickey, and said, "One more. Then I'm cutting myself off."
Mickey laughed. "If I had a nickel for every time I've
heard you say that, Jacky boy."
"I mean it this time," Jack said, but something in his
voice made the barman laugh. Jack had to smile. "Hit me
once more."
"You got it."
Mickey took the nozzle from beneath the bar, brought
it up to Jack's glass and filled it to the brim with fizzy,
bubbly soda.
"Here," Mickey said. He reached into a small plastic
tray and removed a single maraschino cherry. Holding it
by the stem, Mickey delicately placed it on top of the soda
and said, "Voila. Figure since you're drinking girly drinks
these days, you might as well go the full nine and have
it look girly, too."
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"You're a saint," Jack said. He raised the glass and