Chibs leaned against his bike, smoking his fourth cigarette in a row, keeping a general eye on the second floor motel room McKeavy and the prostitute had entered. At least this hooker had remembered to close the curtains. There weren't enough shots in the world to erase the image of McKeavy's naked, fish-belly white body from the night before. If this had been six months ago, Chibs would have been in the motel room next to McKeavy's with a little honey of his own, but now, he wasn't interested. He knew that trying to stay faithful to Aoife was ironic, considering that he was committing adultery by being with her, but it appeared his hypocrisy did have limits. His cell phone rang and he glanced at the screen and answered it with a growing grin. "Evening, lass."

He could hear the smile in Aoife's voice. "Hey, handsome. I'm going to bed in a few minutes and wanted to hear your sexy voice."

"Sexy, huh? Think you're confused, lass. You're the one with the damn sexy voice." He loved the sound of her giggle. "I'm still sorry I had to cancel on the carnival."

"I understand, a mhuirnín. It happens. Della invited me to go with her family. Juice tried to make me feel better - he won me a teddy bear as big as I am."

"Did he now?"

"Aye. Then Tig lashed it to the dinky little bike that Kip has been riding and told him he had to ride in the 'bitch seat.'" Chibs chuckled.

"So they're taking damn good care of my prospect while I'm gone. That's good to hear." Chibs saw the door of the motel room open. "I gotta go. Tá mo chroí istigh ionat."

"Tá grá agam duit," Aoife answered.

Chibs and McKeavy got settled into the safehouse and turned in after a few hands of poker with the other guys who were currently crashing there. At about 2 am, Chibs was still awake on the pull-out sofa in the one downstairs guest room staring at the ceiling. It was too fucking late to text Aoife. He'd tried flipping on the light and reading the book of poetry she had lent him, but he couldn't focus. Frustrated with his insomnia, he finally rolled out of bed and headed for the kitchen to see what was in the refrigerator. There were a two or three boxes of pizza, so dried out that it was curled and dark. Chibs wasn't that hungry yet. He checked on the far counter and found a bottle of Jameson's tucked behind the bottles of cheap booze. Maybe shots would help him sleep.

"Pour one for me?" McKeavy asked. Chibs hid his surprise, annoyed with himself for not hearing the footsteps.

"Aye," he answered, putting two shot glasses and the bottle on the rickety kitchen table. Chibs sat gingerly in the ancient chair, wondering if it was going to collapse under him. McKeavy took the seat closest to him so that they both could see the doorway to the rest of the house. Chibs poured.

McKeavy took a sip of whiskey and pulled an envelope from the pocket of his shirt. "I brought you these."

Chibs took the envelope and pulled out the photographs. "Oh, God, she's getting so grown," he breathed. Tears brimmed in his eyes, hidden by his sunglasses, as he shuffled through the dozen photos of his daughter Kerrianne. "My baby is so beautiful." He looked up at McKeavy. "Thank you."

"She and my niece are in the same school now. Kerrianne is over at my sister's house all the time these days," McKeavy said after a minute.

"She's doing good?" Chibs dared to ask.

"Seems to be. Healthy, happy. At least as happy as a teenage girl can be," McKeavy said after a moment. Chibs bit his lip to keep from crying in front of McKeavy.

"You don't know what this means to me," Chibs said softly. McKeavy had brought him photos of Kerrianne over the years. They didn't discuss this small action of rebellion against Jimmy. Chibs knew what a risk it was for McKeavy to do even this small thing for him.

"I never could get right with Jimmy taking your daughter from you," McKeavy offered. It was the only explanation he had ever provided. The two men lapsed into silence, drinking their whiskey.

The bell over the coffee shop door tinkled. Aoife looked up. "Good morning, Juice. Kip."

"Morning, Aoife." Juice gave her a kiss on the cheek. "How are you doing? Any problems?"

"None at all," she assured him. "Two dozen muffins for the clubhouse?"

"That'd be great, darlin'. With Chibs out of town, if you need anything, you can call me." He handed her a scrap of paper with a number scribbled on it.

"Thanks, Juice."

When lunchtime rolled around, Aoife turned from brewing fresh coffee to find Tig at the table just behind her. She barely managed not to jump. "Hey, doll. Shepherd's pie?"

"Aye, Tig."

Aoife delivered the shepherd's pie, steaming hot, in front of Tig. He lifted his fork to dig in, and casually dropped the words. "You doing ok?"

"Aye, I'm fine, Tigger."

"Anything comes up while Chibs is gone, you call the garage and ask for me."

"Ok," Aoife nodded. "Thanks, Tig."

Aoife was sweeping off the front steps of the shop, getting ready to close, when she heard the roar of yet another motorcycle. Jax swung his leg over the bike and dropped the helmet on the handlebars in one smooth motion. "Hey, there, darlin'."

"Afternoon, Jax," she said with a smile.

"I was just stopping in to check in with you while Chibs is on the road," Jax explained in his casual drawl. Aoife couldn't hold back a chuckle. "What's so funny, darlin'?"

"That's a common refrain today. Juice and Tig have already been by."

"Well, we take care of our own. You know that if you need us, just call. We'll keep checking up on you."

"Thanks, Jax."

The next safehouse was empty except for the two of them, but Chibs managed to locate a bottle of Tullamore Dew. Once they got back from their meeting with the potential buyers and McKeavy's rendezvous with another prostitute, the two men took their Chinese food and the whiskey onto the enclosed back patio. Chibs had been weighing how to broach the topic of Finnbar all day. McKeavy was his best chance for information. "You mind if I ask you something, McKeavy?"

"Go ahead."

Chibs began weaving his lie. "I've been talking to a cousin of mine. She's been having some trouble with one of her bosses at work harassing her, and when she tried to go to management, he threatened her and implied strongly that he was involved with the IRA and could make her disappear."

"Bollocks." McKeavy said. "Whoever he is, he shouldn't be fucking throwing his weight around like that. Discretion is fucking key."

"Aye, she's pretty scared and didn't know who else to come to. I told her I'd look into things, figuring I could ask you. You know anyone who's anyone." Chibs figured a little buttering up never hurt.

"What's the guy's name?"

"Finnbar Kilbey. Works at a book seller or publisher or something."

"Kilbey. Kilbey," McKeavy rubbed his chin as repeated the name. "Where does your cousin live?"

"Derry."

McKeavy sat up straighter. "Aye! Finnbar Kilbey from Derry. I've met that arrogant little prick. Your cousin's wise to be wary of him." Chibs lit a cigarette as a delaying tactic, hoping McKeavy would keep talking. "He's got a reputation for ruthlessness and ambition."

"Aye?" Chibs prompted.

"Derry's heated up again in the past few years. We've had a number of leaders picked off by the loyalists. Finnbar's led most of the retaliations, and he's not very good at hiding his desire for more power."

"Not a fan, I take it?" Chibs asked.

McKeavy gave Chibs a funny look, as if he was just now realizing he'd said too much, and then stated simply, "Power corrupts. When a man lets his ambition become bigger than the cause, it spells trouble for everyone."

"Aye," Chibs agreed.

a mhuirnín - my darling/my dear

Tá mo chroí istigh ionat - My heart is in you.

Tá grá agam duit - I love you.