Read Online A Change of Heart (The Heartfelt Series) by Adrienne Vaughan - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Adrienne Vaughan
Ads: Link
take it or leave it, that’s the truth of it.” Larry looked her in the eye.
Marianne’s mouth was set in a grim line. She let out a breath and nodded briefly. Ryan took the fact they stopped talking as his cue to reappear.
“All okay over here?” he gave a slight smile.
“I think we’re getting somewhere,” Larry said, not taking his eyes off Marianne. “Any bourbon in this place, I could do with a drink?”
“Couldn’t we all?” laughed Ryan, trying to gauge the mood, “but you’ll have Irish whiskey and be glad of it.”
Larry nodded, “Make it a good big one!”
Marianne had been rolling and re-rolling a napkin between her fingers.
“Marie?” Ryan said, bending towards her, brow creased with concern.
“I’ll think I’ll go and check the children,” she said, and left.
Chapter Six A New Career In A New Town
Dermot Finnegan was classically good-looking: tall, broad-shouldered with slim hips, a mop of sandy blond hair and greenish eyes. He laughed easily, with a robustness about him that left whoever he was talking to with a feeling of confident heartiness. Dermot was a man to be trusted, leaned upon. Dermot got things done and, it had to be said, Dermot had an awful lot of things to do.
He pulled the door of his neo-Georgian south Dublin apartment shut and threw his holdall into the boot of the 4x4. Punching a code into the sat nav, he put his phone on speaker and swung out of the cul-de-sac heading for the motorway going west. He had a good three and a half hour drive ahead of him and as dawn was breaking behind him, he would have a pretty clear run out of the city and on towards Mullingar.
Trying to suppress the bubbling excitement in his stomach, he flicked on the radio to catch the early morning news. He wondered if a large haul of cocaine, recently discovered in a disused warehouse near the airport had made the news yet. It was his dogged thoroughness that uncovered the packets of white powder, hidden in the miniature suitcases of a consignment of dolls dressed as air stewardesses; a clever ploy but Dermot had it sussed. He was keen to know if his boss had managed to keep the story under wraps, holding it in reserve for when the Gardaí needed a PR boost or a minister wanted to give the recession-battered populace of Ireland a little respite.
The clipped vowels of the newsreader rang out. The lead story was a visiting South Asian diplomat promising a new technology factory, followed by a motorway pile-up in the north and the Lotto rollover. He smiled to himself, Chief Superintendent McBride was still keeping a lid on it then, buying a bit more time for Dermot to pick up the thread on the far side of the country and see what he could uncover. It was his job to unearth the ringleader, the gangland bigwig co-ordinating shipments in through a number of ports.
Dermot had been integral in the Dublin sting; first in line when they burst upon the gang, bold as brass, loading the consignment into a fleet of illegal taxis, the perfect decoy to speed unchallenged through the city streets and out across the Dublin county border. He was damn good at his job, but he wanted a change, a bit more out of life. He sped along the motorway, making good time; it was still too early for rush-hour traffic to impede his escape.
Dermot’s father had been a policeman, but Dermot had railed against the concept of a job for life and ‘ran away to join the circus’ as his father put it. He became an actor, much to his father’s dismay and his mother’s quiet pride, but when he returned, out of work and broke, still young enough to join the force, he decided to make a career of it after all, winning his father’s approval at last when he was named the force’s top marksman. But Dermot wanted to work undercover, using his acting skills to pull off a big job, and now this was his chance. An opportunity to make his mark, go out in a blaze of glory, before finally hanging up his
Marianne’s mouth was set in a grim line. She let out a breath and nodded briefly. Ryan took the fact they stopped talking as his cue to reappear.
“All okay over here?” he gave a slight smile.
“I think we’re getting somewhere,” Larry said, not taking his eyes off Marianne. “Any bourbon in this place, I could do with a drink?”
“Couldn’t we all?” laughed Ryan, trying to gauge the mood, “but you’ll have Irish whiskey and be glad of it.”
Larry nodded, “Make it a good big one!”
Marianne had been rolling and re-rolling a napkin between her fingers.
“Marie?” Ryan said, bending towards her, brow creased with concern.
“I’ll think I’ll go and check the children,” she said, and left.
Chapter Six A New Career In A New Town
Dermot Finnegan was classically good-looking: tall, broad-shouldered with slim hips, a mop of sandy blond hair and greenish eyes. He laughed easily, with a robustness about him that left whoever he was talking to with a feeling of confident heartiness. Dermot was a man to be trusted, leaned upon. Dermot got things done and, it had to be said, Dermot had an awful lot of things to do.
He pulled the door of his neo-Georgian south Dublin apartment shut and threw his holdall into the boot of the 4x4. Punching a code into the sat nav, he put his phone on speaker and swung out of the cul-de-sac heading for the motorway going west. He had a good three and a half hour drive ahead of him and as dawn was breaking behind him, he would have a pretty clear run out of the city and on towards Mullingar.
Trying to suppress the bubbling excitement in his stomach, he flicked on the radio to catch the early morning news. He wondered if a large haul of cocaine, recently discovered in a disused warehouse near the airport had made the news yet. It was his dogged thoroughness that uncovered the packets of white powder, hidden in the miniature suitcases of a consignment of dolls dressed as air stewardesses; a clever ploy but Dermot had it sussed. He was keen to know if his boss had managed to keep the story under wraps, holding it in reserve for when the Gardaí needed a PR boost or a minister wanted to give the recession-battered populace of Ireland a little respite.
The clipped vowels of the newsreader rang out. The lead story was a visiting South Asian diplomat promising a new technology factory, followed by a motorway pile-up in the north and the Lotto rollover. He smiled to himself, Chief Superintendent McBride was still keeping a lid on it then, buying a bit more time for Dermot to pick up the thread on the far side of the country and see what he could uncover. It was his job to unearth the ringleader, the gangland bigwig co-ordinating shipments in through a number of ports.
Dermot had been integral in the Dublin sting; first in line when they burst upon the gang, bold as brass, loading the consignment into a fleet of illegal taxis, the perfect decoy to speed unchallenged through the city streets and out across the Dublin county border. He was damn good at his job, but he wanted a change, a bit more out of life. He sped along the motorway, making good time; it was still too early for rush-hour traffic to impede his escape.
Dermot’s father had been a policeman, but Dermot had railed against the concept of a job for life and ‘ran away to join the circus’ as his father put it. He became an actor, much to his father’s dismay and his mother’s quiet pride, but when he returned, out of work and broke, still young enough to join the force, he decided to make a career of it after all, winning his father’s approval at last when he was named the force’s top marksman. But Dermot wanted to work undercover, using his acting skills to pull off a big job, and now this was his chance. An opportunity to make his mark, go out in a blaze of glory, before finally hanging up his
Similar Books
