A/N: Thank you to wolfchick11, IrishSaints, Jade Opal and CaptainMC for reviewing! Alas, I am getting busier and busier, but I will try to keep working on this story!

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Chapter 9: Disguises Exposed

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"You Know My Name"

By: Chris Cornell

If you take a life, do you know what you'll give
Odds are, you won't like what it is
When the storm arrives, would you be seen with me
By the merciless eyes I've deceived

I've seen angels fall from blinding heights
But you yourself are nothing so divine
Just next in line

Arm yourself because no-one else here will save you
The odds will betray you
And I will replace you
You can't deny the prize; it may never fulfill you
It longs to kill you
Are you willing to die

The coldest blood runs through my veins
You know my name

If you come inside, things will not be the same
When you return to my night
If you think you've won
You never saw me change
The game that we have been playing

I've seen diamonds cut through harder men
Than you yourself
but if you must pretend
You may meet your end

Try to hide your hand
Forget how to feel
(Forget how to feel)
Life is gone with just a spin of the wheel
(A spin of the wheel)

Arm yourself because no-one else here will save you
The odds will betray you
And I will replace you
You can't deny the prize; it may never fulfill you
It longs to kill you
Are you willing to die

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Connor awoke to what seemed like a thousand leprechauns simultaneously jumping on his head. Trying to remember what had transpired, he slowly opened his eyes, waiting for his blurred vision to correct itself. More thumping in his head soon followed, the bright light around him straining his eyes. He recollected McGuinty's, pints, Lourdes…Lourdes! Gritting his teeth in utter rage, he let out a low growl, attempting to move his body. Seeing familiar furniture in front of him, he tried to get up…only that he couldn't. He found himself tied to a wooden chair, feeling his hands bound behind him and his legs to that of the chair's.

"Good morning, Connor MacManus."

Connor's ears automatically perked up to the sound of Lourdes' icy voice behind him. Twisting his head as far back as he could, he could see from the corner of his eye that she was neither lustful nor inebriated, not at all in the very least. He was burning again, though this time, not with heated desire, but complete rage. He bucked again from his seat in an attempt to startle her, but it proved fruitless in the end. Calmly, Lourdes stood from the bed in perfect condition, walking over in front of Connor so that they were face to face. With firm eyes matched with a stone expression, she began, "Did you really think that you could keep your charade up without me finding out? You really took me for that much of a fool?"

The anger was rising. He was almost at his boiling point. Regardless of this, though, Connor managed to reply calmly, "Everything can be explained."

"Tell me, then," Lourdes placed her hands coolly on the arm of the chair, now nose to nose with Connor, gaze unflinching, "did you lead that attack on the IRA members, or was it Smecker, your brother Murphy, or your father, Il Duce?"

Their eyes locked, the battle of wills commencing. Connor tried his best to hide his bewilderment at this revelation. How does she know all of this information? He barked inwardly, flipping through his thoughts about everything that had transpired. She must have already suspected him in the first place and had been digging information about him whilst he was playing his little game. Was he so careless that his cover had been blown so quickly? Was he so blind that he didn't see that she was on his trail, sniffing at him from the beginning?

Lourdes recognized the simultaneous indecision and incredulity upon his countenance. Expose the bastard, that's what she needed to do. Make him pay for what he did. Interrupting his thoughts, she flashed him a sardonic smile as she spat, "You know, you should really be more careful. As a Saint of Southern Boston, I thought you'd know how to be, not to mention know that it is never wise to underestimate your enemies." She pushed herself from the chair abruptly, causing Connor to shake.

"None of us are fuckin' responsible for the IRA murders or for the hit against ye and yer team." Connor retorted stiffly, stone-faced as he continued to meet her penetrating gaze. "None."

"Riiiight." Lourdes nodded in sarcasm, expressing mock thoughtfulness on her face, "and the Boondock Saints also aren't responsible for the mass killings of Mafiosi all over Boston, including that hit two days ago. Forgive me, but I beg to differ."

Connor's patience had never been tried so much. Of course, his hurt pride and unfulfilled desire formed part of that equation, but he convinced himself that it was mostly Lourdes' betrayal. He stared her straight in the eyes, his blue orbs icy. "Ye may have done yer research, Villamor, but ye know deep down that we're not responsible for any of the shit against ye or the IRA. Think about it. If we wanted ye and yer agents dead, as the fuckin' Saints of Boston, ye would be fuckin' dead and buried by now. Not to mention that I would've already gotten out of this thing ye call bondage and have already broken yer neck." Lourdes didn't reply, but kept her stone-hard gaze fixated on Connor's. "Ye come to Boston all the way from Dublin with only minimal information on us and what we do. We kill the bad guys, and only the bad guys. No women, no children. Why would we target IRA members who only promote the independence of the Republic of Ireland? Innocent people who only want to keep Irish national pride alive?" Still not breaking his stare, Connor continued, "My brother, father and I, along with Smecker, only work and live to protect the innocent, the citizens of Boston. Any false pretense against ye was only there to get more information and to protect yer life and the life of yer agents. Yer not our enemy – now, the Unionists are."

To her own surprise, Lourdes reflected upon what the man had said, attempting to find truth and sense. As she reasoned with herself, she crossed her arms over her chest, questioning sternly, "Up until now, apparently, you've been telling me bullshit, so how do I know that this isn't just a bunch of bullshit as well?"

"Ye've obviously done yer research." Connor answered coolly, with a cocky tilt of his head, "And like I said, if we wanted ye dead, ye would've been dead a long time ago, along with yer agents." To her annoyance, his beguiling grin appeared. "I've been in yer presence for a month now. Even if yer neck is that pretty, if I wanted ye dead, I wouldn't think twice about breakin' it."

"You're fucking psychotic, you know that?" Lourdes exclaimed in utter bewilderment, pointing a guilty finger at him. "Killing people at your own will as if you were God?"

"Ye know so much about me and my family, but ye certainly don't understand what we're about." Connor replied calmly, his face grown serious. "Maybe ye will someday."

Before Lourdes could reply, her hotel door was suddenly smashed open, sending splinters and pieces of the wooden doorframe flying dangerously into the room. Lourdes cursed out loud to herself, stumbling a few paces behind her as she tried to find a weapon to defend herself with. The masked man who was now stalking into her room in confident strides held a switchblade in hand. He headed straight for her with no hesitation, surely intent on killing her, his eyes never leaving her form. Though, for a moment, she saw him look confusedly at Connor, who was still tied to the chair. Taking this window of opportunity, Lourdes lunged at the intruder, tackling his bulging arm in order to disarm him of the knife. She twisted, turned and pulled, earning a slight snap on his elbows. He bellowed, somewhat releasing his grip upon the weapon. Though before the blade fell, he twisted his body in convulsing pain, slashing at Lourdes' upper left arm. Crying out at the deep cut, Lourdes tried to kick at the bulk of the man with all of her strength, adrenaline pumping through her body. Though in pain, he had quickly recovered, suddenly grabbing her ankle and throwing her across the room with brute force. Moaning in pain, Lourdes landed on her stomach with a hard thud, luckily having her hands and elbows out to soften the painful blow. As she twisted her head to see where the attacker was, she felt an object hit her on the side of the head.

Everything went black.

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As Lourdes regained consciousness, the first thing she felt was a splitting headache. Audibly cursing to herself, she groaned lightly, desperately trying to move her head and body. Her next instinct was to defend herself, a flash of her attacker appearing in her mind, but she instantly realized that there was nobody attacking her. Slightly disoriented and feeling pain stinging everywhere, she hissed and gritted her teeth as she was finally able to open her eyes. Through her blurred vision, she could make out a man's sculpted visage now intently staring down at her. Instantly alarmed, she made a move to strike him, but was immediately halted as he snatched her arm and held it in place.

"Hey, I'm not gonna hurt ye," the stranger said instantly, continuing to struggle with Lourdes. She kept pulling her arms from his, attempting to strike him. After a while, his voice rose a little in disquietude, "My brother didn't go through the trouble of savin' ye only so that we can kill ye, so stop yer strugglin'!"

Halter her unwavering resistance for a few moments, Lourdes finally recognized the man looking down at her: Murphy MacManus. She finally realized that he was the one she had bumped into in front of McGuinty's all those weeks ago. Thanks to the many surveillance videos and photographs that she had uncovered along the way, she was positive that he was said MacManus brother. But what exactly did he just say? Did she hear him correctly when he said that Connor had just saved her?

Lourdes gulped and continued to state upwards at him, having no clue as to what had happened after the giant of an attacker came bursting into her room. Murphy's intense, green orbs remained locked to hers, his rugged face remaining firm as he slowly released her arm. It was then that Lourdes recognized, to her astonishment, concern evident in his eyes. She was even more surprised to feel that even if she didn't know where she was at the moment, she didn't feel frightened then.

"How're ye feelin'?" Murphy finally broke his intense stare, backing away from her form slowly as he stood straight, finally lighting the cigarette that he held in between his lips. When Lourdes didn't immediately respond, his eyes unconsciously, though chastely, roamed down her form, checking on her injuries, and then landed on her face once more. She was confused then, but Murphy merely gave her a small smirk, waiting patiently for her reply.

"I'm fine." she replied quietly, her guard still up. Eyeing him slowly, she began to sit up, finding herself on a strange bed. Then, a surge of pain swept through her body, and she cried out through gritted teeth.

"Shit," Murphy mumbled as he sat down beside her, pressing his lips together in order to hold his cigarette, "Lie the fuck down, will ye? Yer gonna reopen yer wounds if ye keep movin', so keep still." He instructed quickly, placing a supporting hand on her back. Even though a thousand questions circled in her head, at the moment, Lourdes was in no position to protest. With her lack of strength, she did as she was told, her head now resting comfortably on the pillow. Her eyes quickly roamed the room, memorizing it, trying to find some familiarity within it. Though, she failed in the end, having no idea where she was.

"My brother's gone to get some food and medicine." He informed her lightly, a smile tugging at his lips. "He'll be back soon."

Lourdes tensed as she felt his body touch hers, shifting closer as he examined her and took a drag at the same time. "Now, lemme take a look at yer wounds. Ye took a right beatin' back there, I was told."

As his hand grazed her left arm, she stiffened, recoiling from his being. Twisting his head to face him, she croaked out weakly, "Thanks for your concern, but I'm fine."

"Doesn't look like it." He replied tersely, adding, "Connor says otherwise also." Not at all dissuaded by her reactions and subtle protests, he pulled the covers from her with no hesitation, examining the bump on her head and the cut on her arm. Lourdes gasped at the pain, but ultimately said nothing when she found that the warmth and tenderness of his touch was somehow comforting her. "I'll change these bandages in a few hours. Connor should be here soon. For now, ye…"

Now unable to take her complete confusion, Lourdes squealed, "Please tell me what the bloody fuck is going on!"

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A/N: Don't forget to review! Thanks guys! xx