He nodded. The Celtic Tiger had retreated, his country hit as hard as anyone else by the recent economic downturn. What once seemed like a gold mine of development in a revitalized docklands now lingered and crumbled, the city desperate to keep it from devolving more but unsure how to go about doing it. Declan had been careful approaching the human banks who owned the properties he’d determined would have the best long-term market value.
Waterfront property was limited, at the end of the day. And while humans worried about decades of economic activity, an immortal thought about long-term investment.
Very long-term.
“Do it,” Murphy said. “We have the cash right now.”
Tom finally spoke. “But we don’t have any use for ’em right now, either.”
“Do we have the means to secure them?”
Tom nodded. “It’ll cost though. Always does.”
Murphy glanced at Declan, who nodded and said, “I’ve calculated that into the investment value. Once these two adjacent properties are secure, we can combine security arrangements on them and keep costs down.”
Tom grunted. “That’ll help. And we do have lads looking for work. Not a bad thing to keep them busy.”
“Agreed,” Murphy said. “We can use them for storage now. Possibly an off-the-books club.”
Most of his businesses were aboveboard, but there was always room for a little fun. And what could be more harmless than a little drinking and gambling with the humans’ money? It was going to happen anyway. This way, Murphy could keep an eye on things and make his cut at the same time.
As he’d told Brigid the week before, the best cons walked away with everyone smiling.
“Where’s Brigid?” he asked Tom.
“She called last night. Going west for a bit to visit Anne.” Tom gave him a loaded look. “Nothing hot going on here, so I told her to go ahead.”
“Fine.” He ignored the look.
“Brigid’s been trying to get Anne to come for a visit, Josie says. Having a hard time understanding why Anne avoids Dublin so much, especially when she loves the symphony and all that,” Tom muttered.
Murphy knew exactly how much Anne loved the symphony. It was why he so often sat alone with an empty seat beside him. He disliked anyone sitting in the chair he still considered hers. Josie, Tom’s very quiet mate, and Brigid were the only companions he ever let accompany him. And that was only when he was feeling melancholy.
“How is Josie?” he asked, desperate to change the subject.
Tom’s ugly mug broke into a smile. “Light of my life, of course. And nagging me about the back flower beds. Something about planting a scent garden, whatever the hell that means.”
It wasn’t well known—even among Murphy’s own people—that Tom Dargin had been mated for over one hundred years. His mate, Josie, was a writer who lived an extremely quiet life. When Tom wasn’t working, they both kept to themselves. But Declan, Tom, and Josie were some of the few immortals in Dublin that had known Murphy when he and Anne were together. And Tom and Josie were the only ones who ever brought it up.
“A scent garden,” Murphy said, “is one that focuses as much on the fragrance of the flowering plants as the color of the flowers. Lovely things for vampires, since we can’t appreciate the color of flowers during the day.”
“Yeah, I might have got that, thanks,” Tom said, rolling his eyes.
“I have a landscaper I can recommend.”
“No need. Josie’s designing it herself. Her girl will pick up the flowers, and I’ll plant them. But thanks.”
“Of course. She going to be all right with you working longer hours when I’m at this summit in London?”
Terrance Ramsay was organizing a summit among the leading immortal shipping powers in the Atlantic. The leader of London was hoping that with enough pooled intelligence they’d be able to figure who was moving Elixir through western Europe and the United States. The problem had been getting enough representatives to attend. There was only so much any of them trusted the others.
“You know Josie won’t mind,” Tom said. “Besides, she likes me out of the house when she’s finishing a book. So tell an old married man. How were those human girls the other night? As featherbrained as they looked?”
“None of your business.”
“You thinking I’m just going to drop the Anne thing, are you?
Murphy felt his fangs push in irritation. “When do you ever drop it?”
Tom didn’t speak for a long while. Declan was mysteriously quiet. Murphy stood to go.
“Boss—”
“I have no need to talk about Anne O’Dea, Tom.”
“You still need her. You think Dec and I can’t see it?”
Murphy slammed down the file folder he’d been paging through, and Declan slipped out of the room. He was usually the voice of reason when the three of them argued, so Murphy had a feeling Tom and Declan had talked about this beforehand.
Tom was the oldest, Declan in the middle, and Josie was the youngest now that Jack was gone. But he and his sons had always been more brothers than sire and children, and Tom was one of the few vampires who could speak freely with the immortal lord of Dublin.
“Leave it,” Murphy said through clenched teeth.
“It’s catchin’ up with you.”
“I’m fine.”
“None of us is able to drink as much human blood as we need, and Elixir isn’t going away anytime soon. It’s better now that we know the scent of it in humans, but it’s still a problem.” Tom took a deep breath and leaned forward. “I’m stronger because I’m mated. Brigid—”