Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 126485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
“No,” Mum clipped. Then in a softer tone added, “And it’s not good, Aislinn. Not good at all.”
I waited for her to say more and make sense. Mum was selective with sharing information about the past.
Mum got up and reached into her back pocket as if she was reaching for her cigarette package but she’d stopped smoking more than two years ago. Now, I was really nervous. “Gulliver is the confessor for the Devaney clan.”
My mouth fell open. “What?”
Mum shook her head. “I never wanted you to know. But if you go to New York, you can’t go blindly. You must stay away from Gulliver.”
“Uncle Gulliver is involved with the Irish mob?”
Everyone in Dublin knew the name Devaney. Their clan ruled over the underworld in the city. Truth be told, their influence in all of Ireland was huge too. I had, on occasion seen one of their debt collectors at Merchant’s Arch during one of my shifts. They were collecting money for “protection,” from mainly them. “I didn’t know the Devaney clan is in New York too.”
Mum looked increasingly uncomfortable, which, in turn, made me increasingly curious. We had always stayed away from the Devaneys and everyone involved with them. We led a mundane life, far away from trouble. Not that they had any interest in us. “Lorcan Devaney, the second son of Devaney Senior, rules over the clan there,” Mum said, and I wondered how the hell she knew. She must have seen the questions swirling in my eyes. “Your uncle mentioned it.”
The words were rushed and higher than her usual tone.
Suspicious, I narrowed my eyes.
“Do you think Imogen got involved with the mob because of Gulliver?” I asked, alarmed.
Mum shrugged. “You know Imogen.”
Damn.
“No, she wouldn’t be that reckless … right?” If they dangled the right carrot in front of her face, she’d try to take a bite.
Mum didn’t say anything.
I got up and paced our small kitchen. The floor boards creaked with every step. Outside someone hollered something unintelligible. “But if that’s the case, it’s even more important for me to find her. Maybe she needs help getting out of trouble.”
“Or maybe she’ll only drag you into trouble with her, Aislinn.” This changed so many things, and gave me a lead I didn’t have before. New hope flickered inside of me, even if the news about the mob wasn’t good news so to speak.
“Swear that you won’t go to your uncle. Swear it on my life.”
“Mum—”
Mum stepped in my way and grabbed by hands. “Swear it.”
“I can’t. If Gulliver knows where Imogen is, then I’ll have to talk to him.”
Mum’s grip on my hand tightened even more. “Don’t go anywhere near the Devaney clan even if Imogen’s trail leads right there.”
“Mum, don’t be dramatic. I’m sure Imogen is fine and not involved with the mob.” I pursed my lips in contemplation. “Maybe Uncle Gulliver knows a place where I can work without a work visa.”
Mum’s eyes widened in alarm. “No.”
“Mum …”
She turned and walked out. My eyebrows rose. Mum wasn’t someone who ran away from a conflict.
I followed the sound of rummaging into Mum’s room. She was pulling a wooden chest from the depth of her wardrobe when I entered.
“What are you doing?” I asked, confused. The chest was covered in dust and the lock was rusty. Nobody had opened it in a long time.
Mum’s fingers shook when she opened the chest. Stacks of letters were inside. Pushing them aside, she pulled out a passport. She held it out to me. When I came closer, I realized it was a U.S. passport. I stared down at it with a frown. “Take it,” Mum whispered.
I took it out of her hand and opened it. My eyes grew wide when I read the name of the person the passport belonged to:
Aislinn Killeen
I stared at Mum. “Is this forged?”
“No,” Mum said, her eyes full of despair.
I shook my head. “I don’t understand. I—” I swallowed. “I thought I was Irish.”
“You are. But you are also American.”
“How … I can’t …”
Mum sank down on the soft bed and patted the spot beside her. I plopped down, my heart beating wildly in my chest.
“You know how I told you that my parents died when I was only a teenager?”
I nodded. Even though Mum rarely talked about them either, she’d mentioned their passing once or twice.
“It’s true that Uncle Gulliver took care of me from age fourteen. He worked in the Irish parish in New York for a while, and when I had to move in with him, that meant moving to New York.” Gulliver was twelve years older than Mum. I knew he took care of Mum for a while but not that she’d lived in the States with him. How many more secrets did she keep from me?
“I wasn’t quite honest about my parents, though. I didn’t get along with them so I moved in with my brother. They hoped he’d get me in line for the future.”