Patrick emerged from the courtroom riding a wave of exhilaration. Mick’s book would proceed to publication, and today’s ruling would make it hard for the Blackstones to come after them again.

It took a while to finalize paperwork in the judge’s chambers, but he practically danced on air as he left the courthouse. Mick and Ruby had commandeered the pub across the street to celebrate, and he headed over to join them. By the time Patrick arrived, the taps were flowing and Mick stood atop the bar, preaching to the rowdy crowd as he recounted his glory in the courtroom.

Patrick didn’t care. Mick Malone and his drunken ramblings were no longer his concern, and he scanned the room, searching for somewhere he could relax with a mug of his own. The tables near the back were mostly empty except for Liam Malone, looking angry and sullen. Unlike the others, who mingled with foamy mugs of beer and sloppy grins on their faces, Liam sat alone, arms folded across his chest as he moodily watched Mick spout forth.

Patrick wended through the crowd and sat on the scarred wooden bench beside Liam. With their backs against the wall, they had a good view of the entire pub, with its brass railings and sawdust covering the old wooden floorboards.

“Not in the mood to celebrate?” Patrick asked.

Liam kept glowering at Mick but finally turned to look at Patrick. “You’re a lawyer. You probably know a lot about money and stuff, right?”

Plenty. The church had trained him in finance and corporate law in hope of someday using him as a lawyer for the archdiocese of the church. He was curious what had made Liam so moody.

“I know about money and stuff,” he confirmed. “What do you need to know?”

Liam scrounged in his pocket and came out with a ring. He held it beneath the table so no one else could see it. “Do you know where I can fence this?”

Patrick’s eyes widened. “That looks like the ring Mrs. Kellerman always wears.”

“It’s her wedding ring,” Liam said. “Where can I sell it for the best price?”

Patrick stood, careful to give nothing away as he lazily moved to stand in front of Liam. The first thing a good boxer learned was not to telegraph his upcoming moves to an opponent. He turned and, with lightning-fast speed, grabbed Liam by the collar, hoisted him up, then slammed him against the back wall.

“And how did you come into possession of Mrs. Kellerman’s wedding ring?” He kept his voice low and soft, which was usually more threatening than shouting.

Liam didn’t flinch. “She gave it to me,” he said, his eyes full of challenge. He planted the sole of his boot on Patrick’s thigh and shoved him back.