Darragh glanced at his watch as he sipped his pint of Harp. He drummed his fingers on the bar at The Rock and swore under his breath.

He was there to meet his quartermaster, Brendan Sullivan, for a quick drink and some dinner to discuss the temporary storage arrangements for the kit Catherine was bringing back from the Republic.

Much to his displeasure, Sullivan was over an hour late and every time he tried to call him, it would go to voicemail. Sullivan wasn't the most punctual of people, but he had enough manners to forewarn when he would be running late.

On the television over the bar, Darragh did his best to focus on the Gaelic football match. He found it nearly impossible to concentrate. His mind was racing, suddenly realizing there were still many loose ends to tie up before the operation. As a man who was quick to decide the best course of action, he was feeling unusually overwhelmed. He chalked it up to exhaustion.

The time drew closer and closer to midnight. Just as Darragh was about to give up and go home, he noticed an agitated and winded Catherine slink into the pub.

Bad news was written all over her face, so dread instantly began coursing through his veins. There were about a hundred-and-one ways this evening could go wrong and it seemed they were all happening.

Taking a seat beside Darragh, Catherine stayed silent for a moment as she tried to collect herself. It was safe to say she was still in shock thanks to the events that had taken place over the last three hours. Slowly, the reality was beginning to set in.

Leaving him befuddled, Catherine ordered a double shot of whiskey. After the bartender filled the glass, she grabbed it and turned to face Darragh.

"A Guard was taken out. And I'm the one who did it."

As soon as the words left her mouth, Catherine handed the whiskey to Darragh. When he fully comprehended what she had just told him, he immediately knocked it back. What left him infuriated wasn't so much the fact that Catherine just admitted to the murder of a police officer from the Republic—it was the issue of a tout was once again rearing its ugly self. And the foremost, the tout had set him, not Catherine, up to be caught with those weapons.

"And the heirlooms. Where are they?" Darragh asked.

"With Dessie."

This was why Darragh trusted Catherine as much as he did. She was smart enough not to travel back to Belfast with a car-load of illegal Armalites and pistols once she realized it had been s trap. If a Guard stopped at the cache site, there was no way of knowing if the British army or PSNI would be waiting at the border to seize the weapons and arrest her.

There was only one name that popped into Darragh's head. His absentee quartermaster. The only other man who knew just where in County Monaghan the hardware was buried. For now, he decided to keep that information to himself.

"As much as it bloody pains me to say this, we have to go find Jimmy."

"Aye." She paused, quickly observing her surroundings. "You don't think it was him who touted, do you?"

Darragh was taken back by Catherine's brazen accusation. Incriminating a fellow volunteer—especially the brigade's most senior officer—of being a tout could have detrimental consequences both the accused or accuser. He was left wondering if Catherine had information he didn't know about. But he understood how nerve-racking it was for her to have been surprised by both the PSNI and the Guards in less than three months. Right now in her mind, everyone was a possible informer.

He reassured her. "You know Jimmy better than anyone in this world. Again, as much as it pains me to admit, of all the things he is, a rat isn't one of them. He believes in the idea of the paramilitaries policing their areas. Nor would he hand over anyone to the peelers to save himself."

"You're right. I'm just edgy is all." Catherine ran her hand through Darragh's freshly cropped hair. She couldn't say she was a fan of the shorter style, but he was still sultry nonetheless. He looked exhausted from working nearly sixteen-hour days over the last week. "The longer we wait to tell him, the more cross he'll be."

In agreement, Darragh paid for his drinks and they left in search of Jimmy.


Accustom to having visitors at all hours of the night, Fiona wasted no time in brewing a pot of tea and reheating sausage rolls for Catherine and Darragh. The matriarch of the house seemingly had little animosity towards the former lover of her partner. Considering six months ago, Fiona never would have allowed Catherine to step foot inside her home, let alone offer tea and sustenance.

After Catherine told Jimmy what had gone down, Fiona graciously handed him the bottle of whiskey and he added a heavy shot into his tea.

"And the guns?" he asked.

Jimmy's lukewarm demeanor worried Catherine. She didn't like not being able to read him, because she wanted to be prepared for one of his infamous mood swings. He was livid but internalized it as he didn't want to shake her any more than she already was. None of his indignations was toward her as it quickly became evident to him too, that it had been a setup. Not only was this the first time she had taken out an officer, but it was also the first time she had personally taken a life.

Eventually, the guilt would start eating away at her. Until then, Jimmy and Darragh were in a silent agreement that it was important to keep her active in the cause. If they kept her focused, she wouldn't have anything to feel guilty about.

"Dessie took them to the meeting house in Dundalk. I didn't think it would be a good idea for either of us to cross the border with them tonight. He said he'll arrange for a scout car in the morning to get to Newry, where I'll meet him and pick up the kit we need."

Jimmy shook his head. "You're not going alone. What time?"

"He said he'll text me when I should leave. The codeword is Kerrygold."

"Like the butter?" Darragh asked, chuckling.

"Just like the butter." Catherine busied herself tearing in a warm sausage roll. She didn't care that both men were staring at her in wonderment, unsure what to make of her choice in the codeword. Swallowing, she shrugged her shoulders. "Listen, after nearly three months of constant barfing, I finally have an appetite, so excuse me if all I can think about is food."

Fiona refilled Catherine's mug. "Ignore them, Caitie. They like to pretend they're tough blokes, but we both know they're cryin' like babies when they catch a cold."

"Ain't that the truth," she agreed.

Darragh chimed in, reminding Catherine that he was laying bricks for nearly twelve hours a day with ribs that were still fractured. He had more than earned his title as one tough son-of-a-bitch.

"I'll give you that." Catherine leaned over and kissed Darragh. Fiona smiled at the display of affection and Jimmy was sure he was about to lose his dinner. Seeing them together never got any easier for Jimmy. Especially the bigger her belly got.

Desperate to get back to the task at hand, Jimmy interrupted the chatter between Catherine and Fiona. It was also peculiar to see the two women being so civil around one another.

He didn't like it.

Jimmy asked Darragh if he would be able to go with Catherine to Newry.

"I'm workin' but I can arrange for Kieran to go with her." Until Darragh knew why his quartermaster had been dodging his calls all night, he wouldn't let Sullivan anywhere near those weapons.

"Considering this was a ploy to get you caught with the hardware, I think it would be wise to keep the rest of your unit out of the loop on this one. Anyone finds out where we're meetin' Dessie, not only do we go down, but south Armagh does as well."

Again, Darragh resented the fact that Jimmy was right. It was becoming clearer that no one could be trusted at this point. The hardest pill to swallow was that tout could be one his own.

Setting the half-eaten sausage roll down, Catherine flicked the crumbs off her fingers before rubbing her eyes. She knew what had to happen, even though she wasn't thrilled about it. This had been something she was looking forward to, but at the same time, she wanted to avoid any drama between Darragh and Jimmy.

"I shouldn't be the one pickin' the hardware up tomorrow. Regardless, this fuck up falls on my shoulders, so another unit should do it. Maybe I should sit out the operation tomorrow, too."

"Catch yourself on," Fiona was fast to interject. "You're lookin' to make commander soon, as I do recall. If you don't show up in Newry tomorrow or go through with the plans for the operation, you've any idea how weak you'll look to the lads? Tout or no tout, a leader shows their face. Do you know who runs and hides, Catherine? A coward. If your Da or Filip heard ya talkin' that nonsense, they'd be right to give you a crack."

Catherine gulped. The last thing she ever expected was an ass-chewing on her professional conduct from Fiona. It had been nearly a decade since Fiona had last been active in any IRA dealings, but the Provo fire was still lit in her heart. Though the bitterness of Catherine's betrayal was still fresh, she couldn't bring herself to stand idly by and watch Catherine sink her future by acting gutless when she was anything but. A blind man could see the potential the young woman possessed to one day become part of the council—she'd hate to see it wasted because of fear.

To Fiona, the past was the past and she was willing to forgive Catherine for her transgressions. So long as it didn't happen again.

Darragh too added a shot of whiskey into his tea, feeling defeated that he hadn't been able to protect Catherine from what transpired in that abandoned field. That should have been him firing that pistol, not her. Fiona's approach to snap Catherine out of her funk was brash, but perhaps brash was exactly what she needed. "Fi's right, ya know. Regardless, you have a job to do."

"Aye." Sitting back in her chair, she avoided eye contact with everyone at the table. She was embarrassed, realizing she didn't mean what she said. "Since you're workin' and Kieran is out of the question, who's gonna come with me then?"

Jimmy didn't hesitate to answer. "I will."

"Of course you will," Darragh said under his breath.

It was intentionally said loud enough for everyone at the table to hear. Catherine glared at Darragh, as she explicitly told him on the drive over not to cause any drama. Fiona pinched the bridge of her nose, flooded with the memories of what happened the last time Darragh and Jimmy had gotten into it.

"You got a problem with that, Ryan?"

Looking up from his tea, Darragh first saw Catherine's pleading expression. He did have a problem with Jimmy going to Newry with his girlfriend, but he wanted to keep the peace at home even more. There was no way he could get out of work tomorrow and he agreed that she shouldn't be going alone. It felt like he was between a rock and a hard place. He trusted Catherine—it was Jimmy whom he didn't. Nonetheless, Jimmy was his superior officer and if he said he was to Newry with Catherine, there was nothing Darragh could do.

"Nope. There's no problem." Standing up, Darragh thanked Fiona for the tea and sausage rolls. He told Jimmy that Catherine would let him know in the morning when Dessie got a hold of her. "We should get goin' a chuisle, it's late."

Hearing Jimmy's pet-name for Catherine roll-off Darragh's tongue, her eyes almost budged out of her skull and Fiona coughed to suppress a laugh. Jimmy nearly had an aneurism.


Unable to get much sleep, Catherine was showered and dressed before nine. Saying goodbye to Darragh that morning had been far more excruciating than she expected. Over the last week, they hadn't spent much time together as their responsibilities had been pulling them in opposite directions. After the IPLA operation the following evening, Catherine was hoping Jimmy would allow her and Darragh to take a few days off from the IRA. If they could manage to free up a weekend, Darragh promised Catherine he would finally bring her to Donegal. He was acclimated to life in Northern Ireland, but Catherine was curious to see where he had been reared.

Six years of knowing one another, she still didn't know why he had decided to give up his life in the Republic and join the Ra. It wasn't because she didn't care to know, it was because Catherine was raised not to ask questions.

As she folded laundry in the living room, she focused her attention on the television. The BBC was recapping an interview with Gerry Adams' from the previous night. All she could do was roll her eyes at every word that spilled from his mouth. Like her father and brother, Catherine detested the Sinn Fein leader's "Armalite and the ballot box" approach. She would settle for nothing less than a unified Ireland and saw the Belfast Agreement to be a slap in the face to the republican movement. Until that day, she would follow Darragh, Jimmy, and Patrick, with an Armalite in one hand and her rosary beads in the other.

Adding another clean pair of Darragh's briefs to the folded pile on the coffee table, Catherine muted the television when her phone vibrated beside her. Not bothering to look and see who was calling, she answered.

"Hey, Kerrygold, I'm outside." It was Jimmy. She couldn't help but smile at his use of the code word. "What do ya say we get outta Belfast for a bit? I know of a wee place in Lisburn that has a brilliant menu."

Looking at her watch and realizing how early it still was, his offer was tempting. Catherine knew Darragh would have a heart attack if he were to find out she spent more time than necessary with Jimmy. On the other hand, a little change of scenery, even if it were for an hour or two, sounded amazing.

"I'll be right out."

Snapping her phone shut and turning off the T.V., Catherine raced up the stairs to their bedroom.

After Darragh's attack, she had officially moved into his place. It had only been less than a week, but she was sure she'd never grow tired of seeing their possessions intermixed. Spritzing her perfume onto her pressure points, Catherine then fluffed out her curls and applied a light coat of lipstick. After putting on her shoes, she double-checked her outfit. It wasn't that she was purposely trying to look good for Jimmy, she just knew he appreciated a put-together appearance. Satisfied with how she looked, Catherine grabbed her purse before dashing outside out.

Jimmy was standing on the sidewalk, his back resting against a black Jeep. It had been stolen.

"This is quite a surprise."

Jimmy shrugged. "I miss my girl."

She cocked an eyebrow and threw him a look that said, don't start with that shite.

It was the truth. He missed Catherine more than he'd like to admit. It wasn't because she was a mind-blowing fuck, either. Jimmy genuinely missed her glittering presence, the hours they'd spend deep in conversation. He even missed the way she'd hijack the radio the moment she got into the car with him, playing the mainstream music he generally loathed.

At first, he thought her going under Darragh's command would bring them closer as they had been suffocating one another. Never in a million years did he think Darragh and Catherine would end up as a couple, and Jimmy would do anything possible to have them split by the year's end.

He would never allow a man to be in Catherine's life so intimately without him digging into the bloke's past. The paperwork Jimmy had sitting locked in the bottom drawer of his desk at home was surely the smoking gun that would send Catherine packing her bags. Knowing it would utterly destroy her emotionally, Jimmy decided to keep it under lock and key until the IPLA operation was over, as that's where he needed her full attention for now.

He didn't say another word, just opened the passenger door so Catherine could hop in.


Jimmy smeared globs of strawberry jam and clotted cream onto his scone. Even preoccupied with satisfying his hunger, he could always tell when something was on Catherine's mind. She sat back in her chair, staring off into space as she stirred the sugar she had added to her tea five minutes ago.

The expression on her face was blank. Jimmy knew what she was thinking of. Bringing Catherine to Lisburn wasn't done intentionally to bring some of her repressed memories to the surface. He did enjoy the coffee and scones from the small cafe, having pushed it out of his mind what sat to their south and east. It was easier to just not think of it.

For a moment he stayed quiet, remembering how upset a young Catherine would get after having to say goodbye to Patrick at Long Kesh. He had no idea about the times she had cried in Liam's arms in the car park at Maghaberry after visiting with Darragh.

"So, you're callin' the wee one, Eamonn. It means the world to me that you're namin' our boy after my brother."

Catherine snapped from her trance. She smiled coyly and stole a bite from Jimmy's dressed scone. "Bold of ya to think it's your brother who I'm namin' him after."

So long as Darragh was in the picture, Jimmy knew Catherine would never be able to admit that was the truth behind her son's name.

Jimmy dipped his finger into some of the clotted cream before smudging it on the tip of her adorable button-nose. "Then please, enlighten me as to where the name Patrick Eamonn came from."

Catherine couldn't help but smile and laugh at Jimmy's playfulness. Seeing him relaxed and in a good mood was a very good sign for her, especially considering the circumstances of the last ten hours.

"I guess you could say in some roundabout way he's named after his da, after all," she said, wiping the cream off her nose her with her napkin. Jimmy furrowed his bow and Catherine could tell he had no idea what she was talking about. Stealthily gazing around the cafe to see if anyone could overhear their conversation, Catherine lowered her voice just enough so only he could hear her. She crooned lyrics to a rebel song, "the next time that you see the Brit's with their face's full of fright, watch out for One-Shot Paddy and his friend called Eamonn Wright."

After taking a sip of his coffee and setting the mug on the table, Jimmy sat back in the chair. When it clicked, he was beyond impressed.

The way he stared at Catherine made her blush. She recognized the devilish smirk he wore.

"You're a sly girl."

Catherine shrugged. "I learned from the best, I suppose."

Her burner phone buzzed on the table. Before she could reach for it, Jimmy snatched it up and flipped it open. The text message was clearly from Dessie.

Ran out for Kerrygold. Should be home in about 20 mins.

Snapping the phone shut, he tossed it to her. "Let's hit the road, a chuisle."


Ten miles north of Newry on the A1, Jimmy and Catherine sat in comfortable silence. Her head was resting on the window as she watched the cars pass them in the opposite direction. She tried like hell to stop replaying the events from last night over in her head, but all she could see was the police officer lying in the lush grass with a hole in his throat. Over the music softly playing from the radio, all she could hear was the gurgling sound of him choking on his blood.

As for Jimmy, it was hard for him to keep the smug grin off his face. Finding out that Catherine had chosen the name Patrick Eamonn to reference the nicknames that IRA snipers were given, made him gloat a little more than if the wee one was named James. He prayed that one day he'd be able to share the stories from his glory days as an IRA sniper with his son. Instill in Eamonn the dreams of Pearse and Connolly, just as they were instilled in him shortly before the Troubles had broken out.

Realizing how unusually quiet Catherine was, Jimmy took his eyes off the road for a quick second to make sure she was okay. Normally, it didn't matter if it was a ten-minute drive or a four hour one to Tralee in County Kerry, she would be talking his ear off about anything and everything.

"Feelin' okay, a chuisle?"

Hearing Darragh call her that last night, had brought Jimmy to an entirely new level of indigent, and he was still struggling to come down from that high. But he refused to take his bitterness towards Darragh out on Catherine. That would only push her further into Darragh's arms.

Lifting her head off the window, Catherine looked over at Jimmy and nodded. "Aye. Just tired is all. Lookin' forward to havin' a few days off."

Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, he reached over with the other, resting it nonchalantly on her thigh. He gave it a firm squeeze, feeling the searing white heat in his belly as he remembered what it felt like to have those legs tightly wrapped around him. Catherine's gaze darted down, watching his knuckles twitch. Her heart was beating out of control and she forgot how to breathe. Carefully watching Jimmy, she realized he was stealing the occasional glance. When his hand began to move north, she instinctually slouched slightly.

Jimmy could feel his heart begin to race, too. All the blood drained from his head to below the waist. For over two months, he had been craving to get his hands on Catherine again. He loved the way she utterly unraveled under his touch. He missed the feeling of her nails digging into his back and the beautiful way her face twisted when she was in the throes of an orgasm.

Not breaking his concentration on the road, Jimmy found the button of her jeans. He unfastened it, quickly moving to unzip the fly.

"Lean the seat back a little for me."

In her head, a voice was screaming at Catherine to slap Jimmy's hand away. She was so mad, she wanted to cry. She wasn't supposed to want him ever again. Not after what happened in California. Especially not after what happened in the kitchen at her parent's house when he had gotten back from the Middle East.

Catherine hated herself for craving Jimmy just as badly as he craved her. Every nerve ending lit up at the idea of him touching her. She squeezed her eyes shut, attempting to visualize Darragh—remind her of the one man who loved her more than she could ever comprehend. But she couldn't see him. All she saw was the delicious ending that Jimmy was about to give her.

With her rational thoughts thirty miles back in Belfast, Catherine didn't hesitate to lean her seat back so she could give him a little room to work. Not daring to take his eyes off the road for even a second, Jimmy straightened up as he slid his hand under her panties. He was instantly greeted with her familiar slick heat and he went in search of what he wanted to feel most.

"Have you missed this, baby?" he asked. His middle finger deliberately teased just the opening of her soaked hole.

All she could do was nod her head and bite her lip in an attempt to suppress her cries as Jimmy put her out of her misery. He slowly traced circles around her swollen clit, the exquisite pleasure nearly frying her brain.

"Don't you fuckin' hold back," he warned. "I wanna hear every filthy sound come out of that beautiful mouth of yours."

Catherine complied. She let out an animalistic mewl just as Jimmy slid a finger, two knuckles deep, inside her. He curled it just slightly, hitting her trigger.

"Fuckin' hell, Jimmy," she moaned, tears collecting in the corners of her eyes.

Feeling her start to squirm, Jimmy prolonged her building release by alternating slow and concentrated strokes on her clit and g-spot. Hearing Catherine cry out his name was arousing him so badly, his cock was strangulated in his pants. He white-knuckled the steering wheel. Having Catherine at his mercy like this ignited his burning lust like never before. He had never been so wound-up in his life. So much so, that he was sure he would pop faster than a teenager if he could get her sweet mouth wrapped him.

It killed him not being able to watch her wither.

"Does Darragh make you feel this good?"

Catherine blurted out, "fuck no!" just as Jimmy hit her g-spot and clit at the same time. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, feeling the blissful waves of ecstasy crash into her. He felt victorious by her answer, especially as he felt her come all over his fingers.

As she sat still catching her breath, Jimmy eased his fingers from her panties. Hearing a familiar sound, Catherine opened her eyes and looked over to see what he was up to.

"What are you doin'?" she asked, watching him unfasten his belt.

Jimmy raised his eyebrows at Catherine as he freed his steely cock. "Figured you'd be the goddamn good girl I know you are and return the favor."

Pulling the hair tie off her wrist, Catherine wasted no time tossing her hair into a top-knot. Glancing at her, he smiled when he saw the fire smoldering in those lustful eyes of hers.