Love and Shamrocks: Ballybeg, Book 5

by Zara Keane

  Clio refrained on commenting on why Lar might be returning to his residence close to lunchtime. Knowing him, a night spent banging a random woman would be the most innocent reason on a very long list of possibilities.

  “Why didn’t you call Clio?” Seán demanded, coming to stand behind her. “You must have known she’d panic if Tammy didn’t show up at the time she’d arranged.”

  “But she did get back on time.” Lar’s smile didn’t meet his electric blue eyes. “I made damn sure of that.” He turned to Clio. “How open can I be in front of the Guard?”

  “Go for it. After my recent adventures, I’d trust him with my life.” Literally, figuratively, and every other way.

  “Can I have a shower, Mum,” Tammy interrupted. “I feel icky after my night in the shed. I would have showered at Dad’s but the only clean underwear he had to offer was a pair of his own or a scrap of lace he found in the back of a drawer that had been left by some slapper. I didn’t find either option appealing.”

  “I can imagine,” Clio said dryly.

  “And he doesn’t have a tumble dryer,” the girl continued, an expression of horror on her pretty face, “so washing and drying the pair I had on wasn’t possible.”

  “Clearly, my household doesn’t come up to scratch,” Lar said with a grin.

  “All right,” Clio said to her daughter. “Go up and have a shower. But don’t think you’re getting off this lightly. I want a full explanation later.”

  Tammy sighed and made to do an eye roll but caught herself in time. “Okay, Mum. Just don’t yell at Dad. It’s not his fault I snuck off to Dublin.”

  After Tammy ran upstairs, Clio led the way into the living room. She noticed Seán was very careful to position himself on the sofa beside her. The feel of his warm thigh against hers was comforting.

  “Okay, spill,” she demanded once Lar had settled in the armchair opposite. “Why didn’t you call me the instant Tammy showed up on your doorstep?”

  “Because she was crying and obviously distraught. I was more concerned about getting her in out of the rain and hearing what she had to say.” He crossed his muscular arms across his equally muscular chest. “For all I knew at that moment, you were the cause of the problem.”

  “And you’ve since established that I wasn’t the cause of her tears?”

  He nodded and his mouth took on a grim twist. “She told me about that fucker O’Leary. She told me the whole damned story. And she also told me she had a shrewd notion you had something to do with him getting the shite beaten out of him.”

  Clio felt Seán’s hand on hers. “That’s right. In a moment of incredible stupidity, I called Ray Greer. I wanted his men to intimidate O’Leary. A show of muscle, that was all. I didn’t expect them to beat him up.”

  “In that case, you’ve been out of the life too long, Clio.” Lar’s lips twisted into a grim smile. “Men like Greer’s crew don’t show a bit of muscle and say a few harsh words. They’re trained to behave like attack dogs. Most come from backgrounds crappier than anything you experienced during your couple of years of slumming it, and you handed them a pedophile. Did you seriously think they wouldn’t take that as an open invitation to work out all their childhood grievances? Frankly, I’m surprised the man is still alive.”

  “Want to know what’s really ironic? I almost called you the day the police told me that prick wouldn’t be brought to trial. The only reason I called Ray instead of you was because I was afraid you’d kill O’Leary.”

  A muscle in Lar’s cheek flexed. “I probably would have.”

  “I didn’t hear that,” Seán said and put his hand over hers.

  The gesture did not go unnoticed by Lar. He looked from one to the other of them and smirked. “I wouldn’t have seen you hooking up with a Guard, Clio. Your taste must have changed.”

  “Improved at any rate,” she said in a mild tone but the barb hit home.

  His smirk widened. “Touché.”

  She gave an internal eye roll. Lar was insufferable at the best of times, and today definitely didn’t qualify. “While I appreciate you bringing Tammy home, I’d rather you left.”

  “I’m sure you would, but I’m not going anywhere until I know my daughter is safe.”

  “Trevor O’Leary got out of the rehabilitation center ten days ago,” Seán said, “but he’s still in a bad way. I don’t think Tammy has anything to fear from him.”

  “Hopefully by the time his physical health has improved,” Clio added, “she’ll have gotten over her infatuation.”

  “From the conversation I had with her this morning, I get the impression that she’s moving on.” Lar leaned forward in his seat, suddenly serious. “But O’Leary isn’t the danger I’m worried about. How much do you know about Ray Greer, Sergeant Mackey?”

  “Enough to know that I’d very much like to get my hands on him.”

  “I’m not going to tell you how I know this, so don’t bother asking. Ray Greer has been winding you all up. The heat has been building on him for a while. He’s a slippery bastard but a smart one. He knows it’s time to get out of Ireland and try his luck elsewhere.”

  “We have people prepared to squeal on him,” Seán said frowning, “but Greer has weathered worse scrapes than this with the help of his expensive lawyers. Why would he run this time?”

  “Ah, sergeant.” Lar’s smug smirk was back in place. “You’re an innocent lad at heart. Why do you assume the heat I’m referring to is coming from the police?”

  Seán and Clio exchanged a significant look.

  “He’s in trouble with someone from the criminal underworld?” she asked. “Who?”

  “That’s a question neither of you want answered. Trust me.” Lar steepled his fingers, his intense stare never wavering. “Let’s just say that Greer pissed off the wrong man.”

  After a moment’s of loaded silence, Seán asked, “What do you know about the break-in on Friday?”

  “Ray plans to fly the coop, but is short of funds. To finance his getaway, he needed portable valuables such as Clio’s mother’s antique leopard and the cash Aidan Gant hid in Clonmore House.

  “Do you have any idea where Ray is right now?” Clio asked.

  Lar’s grin widened. He whipped his smartphone from his shirt pocket, touched the display, and shoved it in front of their faces. “See this island? Until six months ago, it was a nature reserve. Your local council managed to push through new zoning plans to reverse the reservation order and have since sold it for a tidy sum. The new owner is building himself a holiday home, but had to put the construction on hold over the winter months. Ray paid off the security guys who are meant to be guarding the building site, and he’s been using the island to hide whatever cash and portable valuables he can get his paws on.”

  “I had no idea Inish Glas wasn’t still a nature reserve.” Seán raised an eyebrow. “You don’t happen to know about any other rezoning plans that the local council want to push through?”

  Lar laughed. “Oh, yeah. Aidan Gant convinced several councilors to make a push to sell the communal land where there’s a halting site. I don’t know the particulars but they wanted to build something on it. There’s supposed to be another plot of land toward Cobh where they hope to do something similar.”

  Clio shook her head. “And you know about all this because?”

  “Nothing sinister there. Gant mentioned it to me last year.”

  A clever deflection if ever there was one. “Back to this island,” she said. “Are you sure Ray’s there at the moment?”

  “Not one hundred percent, but he’s definitely not in Dublin. My sources tell me that he was planning to take the proceeds of the robbery on Saturday and sail to France.”

  Seán handed the phone back to Lar. “It would be easy to conceal a boat on the far side of the island.”

  “Why are you telling us this now?” Clio demanded. “If you’re willing to share the info with the police, why didn’t you do so before the break-in?”


  “First, I didn’t know about any of this until I made a few phone calls this morning. I was aware that Ray had a mole in the National Bureau of Criminal Investigation. I did not know that said mole broke into your house on Friday night. Second, I wasn’t aware that Ray was threatening Clio. I don’t want that motherfucker anywhere near my daughter.”

  “So what’s the plan?” Clio asked. “Call in the coast guard?”

  Lar shook his head. “No way. I brought you the information. I want to be there when you catch Ray.”

  “Out of the question,” Seán said. “Leave this to the police.”

  “Unfortunately for you,” Lar said casually, “I’ve waited to tell you about this until the last second. If we don’t find a boat within the next fifteen minutes, Ray will be long gone.”

  “You absolute prick,” Clio exclaimed. “No wonder you took your sweet time escorting Tammy back to Ballybeg and didn’t bother trying to call me. Where are we going to find a boat at such short notice?”

  “Buck MacCarthy,” Seán said, leaping to his feet. “Come on. There’s not a second to waste.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  “HAULED AWAY FROM my pint! It’s a disgrace,” shouted a drunk and belligerent John-Joe. “This is police brutality.”

  “And on St. Patrick’s Day of all days,” muttered Buck as he steered his boat toward Inish Glas.

  “Ah, quit whining, lads,” Seán said with a wink. “Sure isn’t this a bit of an adventure?”

  John-Joe crossed chubby arms over the orange life vest and scowled at his nephew. “I only like adventures that pay cold, hard cash. Somehow, I don’t see this jaunt being to my financial benefit.”

  “See it as your contribution to public safety,” Seán said with a grin. “And you never know, it might help to sway the judge in your favor when the guns and poitín business comes to court.”

  Lar Delaney, swagger undiminished by his bulky life vest, eyed the captain of the ship dubiously. “Is this boat seaworthy?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with my boat,” Buck shouted over the roar of the engine. “And if that Dublin fecker disagrees, he can swim to the island.”

  Seán laughed. “That’s you told, Delaney.”

  The other man gave an exaggerated sigh and sat on the seat next to Clio.

  “Ugh,” she moaned, clutching the side of the boat. “Are we there yet? I think I’m going to hurl.”

  “I told you to stay ashore with Tammy and Travis,” Seán said, shaking his head. “You threw yourself onto the boat.”

  He could only hope that the coast guard would reach them before long. While he couldn’t risk letting Ray escape to France, he wasn’t keen on the idea of tackling him and his crew with a bunch of civilians as back up.

  Clio grabbed his arm. “I see them. Look, they’re already on the move.”

  Feck. Seán peered through his binoculars. Sure enough, a sailing boat was leaving Inish Glas’s small dock. He adjusted the binoculars to get a better view. Ray Greer’s wiry curls and thick glasses were visible on the deck. “That’s them all right. Can this rust bucket move any faster, Buck?”

  Buck changed gears and the elderly vessel sputtered and splashed, then lurched forward and took off at an alarming rate. “Rust bucket, my arse,” Buck shouted. “Show them what you can do, Betsy Ross.”

  “You keep interesting company in Ballybeg, Clio,” Delaney remarked in a sardonic tone. “First, the Guard. Now, two inebriated fishermen. And you think I’m a bad influence on Tammy.”

  “Buck and John-Joe come as a double act,” Seán explained. “Buck can sail but not swim. John-Joe can’t sail but can swim.”

  “Between the pair of them, they have three functioning eyes and maybe half a functioning liver,” Clio added, slumping against Seán’s shoulder. Her complexion was green and her hair windblown, but she was still the sexiest woman he’d ever encountered.

  Delaney cocked an eyebrow. “So what’s the plan, sergeant? I can guarantee you that Ray and his pals are armed to the hilt. You, I assume, are a castrated Guard now that you’re back in uniform.”

  “If you mean to say that I’m no longer permitted to carry a gun, then that’s correct. However”—he got to his feet and pulled up the lid off his seat—“we just happen to have a pair of semiautomatic pistols and a couple of boxes of ammo on the boat. I suggest we use them and lose them in the sea before we get back to shore.”

  Delaney beamed and pulled a gun from the inside of his jacket. “Make that three semis. Give one of yours to Clio. She’s a damn good shot.”

  Seán stared at Clio. “Do I want to know why you’re a good shot?”

  She smiled, picked up one of pistols, and loaded it expertly. “Let’s file this particular skill under strictly-need-to-know for now.”

  “Jaysus,” said John-Joe, swaying at the side of the deck. “Did you forget to get rid of a couple of the guns, Buck?”

  “He did,” Seán replied. “But if you lads cooperate, I might just forget I saw them.”

  His uncle squinted at the weapons. “Are you planning a shoot-out?”

  “Much as I’d love to avoid one, I don’t know see that happening.” There was no need for binoculars now. They’d almost caught up with Ray’s boat. He turned to his uncle. “When I tell you to hit the deck, I’ll mean it. Literally.”

  A shout from Ray’s boat indicated they’d been spotted. Crouching under the wheel, Buck got them as close to the other vessel as he dared.

  On impulse, Seán grabbed Clio and kissed her hard. “In case you hadn’t already realized, you’ve captured my heart, Clio Havelin. When we get out of this mess, I want to make a go of it with you.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “Are you telling me that you love me?”

  “I love you,” he said, and meant it with an earnest intensity he’d never experienced before. “Now dry your eyes and don’t get shot.”

  Lar cleared his throat. “When you two are done with the love-dovey stuff, Ray’s men are prepping their guns.”

  They didn’t need to wait long for a hail of bullets.

  “TAim to incapacitate, not kill,” Seán said. “After my count…”

  Seán, Clio, and Delaney opened fire.

  “How many of them are there?” Clio whispered after the first round of bullets had been spent.

  “Unless one of them is hiding below deck, there are five including Ray.”

  “Four,” Delaney said. “I got one.”

  “Injured or dead?” Seán asked, alarmed.

  “If a some bastard opens fire on me, I shoot to kill, sergeant. Save your sermons for your underlings.” With that, Delaney took aim and fired again, neatly eliminating two more of Ray’s cohorts.

  Realizing he was well and truly screwed, Ray was waving his arms around in a panicked fashion. “Stop shooting, for fuck’s sake. We surrender.”

  Five minutes later, a disoriented Ray and the remaining member of his crew had been hauled aboard. Both had been nicked by bullets and were bleeding profusely.

  In the distance, they could see the coast guard speeding toward them.

  “Not much time,” Delaney said. Grabbing their weapons and the remaining ammunition, he tossed them onto the deck of Ray’s boat. Bending to give Clio a kiss on the cheek, he said, “Give my love to Tammy and tell her I’ll be in touch.”

  With these parting words and a mock salute to Seán, he leaped onto the other boat. “Get moving. You won’t want to be around when this baby blows.”

  Seán inclined his head a fraction. “Hit it, Buck.”

  Buck required no further invitation to put as much space as possible between him and a crazed lunatic in the possession of several weapons.

  They’d almost met the coast guard when they heard the explosion.

  “What the hell?” one of the coast guards exclaimed, staring in horror at the burning remains of Ray’s boat. His stunned gaze switched to the occupants of the Betsy Ross.

  “Faulty engine,” Seán said, deadpan.


  “It was giving us trouble from the start,” Ray added, ashen-faced and bloody, but rallying.

  John-Joe struggled to his feet. “If you’re done blowing shite up, can I get back to my pint?”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  WHEN THE COAST guard escorted the Betsy Ross back to shore, Tammy and Travis were waiting for them on the pier along with Helen, the super, Brian Glenn, and what looked to be the entire population of Ballybeg.

  “Jaysus. That’s quite a welcome party,” John-Joe said, delighted.

  Clio snuggled against Seán’s side. “I’m looking forward to getting home.”

  He ruffled her windblown hair. “And I’m looking forward to getting rid of everyone and having you all to myself. Preferably naked.”

  She was totally down with that idea, especially once she was off a moving boat and no longer seasick.

  Buck was taking the Betsy Ross’s new, bullet-ridden look rather well. “It adds a certain je-ne-say-whatsit to the vessel,” he philosophized after they’d docked and Seán was assisting him down the ladder. “A bit of street cred, you know. The lads in MacCarthy’s will be impressed. I might even get a few pints out of it.”

  “You’ll be getting a free pint in any case,” shouted Sharon MacCarthy from the pier, giving them a thumbs-up. “Drinks are on the house for the next hour to welcome the new addition to the family. Baby Lucy was born twenty minutes ago. So stop gawking and get to the pub.”

  John-Joe and Buck required no further incentive. Ignoring the squawking protests of the coast guard that they needed to be debriefed, they took off running for the pub and their promised pints.

  Superintendent O’Riordan watched them go, shrugged, and went over to placate his outraged colleagues.

  Brian winked when he approached. “Sharon knows how to create a distraction, clear a crowd, and make a bit of money all at the same time.”