Chapter Thirteen
Liam
“Niamh,” I said, totally at a loss. “The bloody hell are you doing here?”
It was Mari who had the sense to usher my soaking-wet sister into the apartment. When had it started raining? When you were licking your wife’s p***y, that’s when.
“What’s your name again?” said Mari to my sister.
“Niamh,” said Niamh slowly, her teeth still chattering. “Like ‘weave’ except it starts with an ‘n.’”
“It’s nice to meet you, Niamh. Let’s get you out of those wet clothes.”
“I can do it myself,” groused Niamh. “I know where the bathroom is. I don’t even know who you are, though.”
Niamh headed to the bathroom and shut the door hard enough that I winced.
What the hell was my teenage sister doing here? Did Uncle Henry and Aunt Siobhan know? It was a two-hour drive from Olympia, a
