“You look tired, son,” Colleen said. “Let’s clean up and get out of here. You both need your rest. We can visit some more tomorrow.”
Ivy grabbed Colleen’s hand. “Don’t worry about it. I can clean up. It actually feels good to get up and move a little bit now. Let me do it.”
“Nonsense. If you want to get up and move around, you can go for walks with us. Promise, we aren’t very fast,” a very pregnant City said, tossing a thumb to her pregnant counterpart, Daisy.
“Oh, I remember those final days, and I do not envy you right now.” Ivy laughed. “But it’s all worth it in the end when you hold that little one.”
“Or, in their case, little ones – twins,” Colleen said.
“Don’t remind me.” Daisy chuckled. “I freak out enough when I feel both of them fighting over who gets to move. They’re out of room.”
Dace noticed Ivy staring at the expectant mothers’ bellies with a soft smile like she was lost in a pleasant memory of her pregnancy. He wondered what those days were like – imagined how beautiful she must have been. That pinch in his chest returned, and it ached for those memories he’d never get to share and wondered what was worse: missing out on those times with their son altogether, or having him so many years just to lose him to something sinister?
“You okay, honey?” Carly asked? “You look a little pale.”
“Oh, I-I’m fine…just lost in thought, I guess,” Ivy said. “I really am happy for you both. How exciting to have babies so close in age.”
Colleen had returned to the living room to gather the rest of the wine glasses.
“Please, let me take care of those,” Ivy said. “It really is good for me to keep moving now after I’ve been in bed for so long.”
“I’ll make you a deal,” the older woman said. “I’ll move it all to the kitchen, and you wash the glasses.”
“Deal,” Ivy said without hesitation.
“Good because I hate washing dishes.”
The group laughed again as they hugged and said their goodbyes. There was something to be said about these women and how they were naturally drawn to each other – supported each other – and trusted each other…even Ivy. Dace took note of that. Her interactions were pure and kind – there was no act. Ivy was just being Ivy.
Dace hugged each of the ladies as they left and shut the door behind them. He turned to see Ivy standing, staring back at him, waiting anxiously. Her gaze bounced from him to the bag in his hand, then back again.
He held it up. “I brought your things. Thought maybe you’d like to have them.”
“I-I…appreciate that. I’m happy with what your ma and the ladies have picked up for me, but having something familiar is…”
“Comforting.” He finished her sentence.
“Exactly. How was the trip? Did you find anything?” Her eyes began to well with tears. “Cash?”
Dace shook his head, and that’s all it took for those tears to spill over.
She nodded. “It was a long shot, right?”
“We don’t know where he is, but we will find him. We learn more each day. It’s only a matter of time…”
She put up her hands to stop him. “I understand. I, uh, better go wash the wineglasses.”
When she tried to push past Dace to the kitchen, he stopped her. Standing shoulder to shoulder, she felt a familiar sensation course through them. Her breath caught as she looked up, and her eyes met his. There was heat in their stare that made each of them want things they had no right to desire. A nearly audible sense of longing and need thrummed between them.
Only inches from her mouth, Dace caught himself before stealing the kiss he’d dreamed of claiming for years. “Leave them. I’ll help you do them tomorrow. It’s late.”
He stepped away, breaking their moment. Ivy slumped her shoulders, her disappointment clear. His disappointment was nothing new.
“Why don’t you relax, take a bath or shower. I’ll put your things away, and we can both turn in for the night.”
Ivy bit her bottom lip while she mulled something over. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. She dipped her head and made her way to the bathroom in her room, quickly closing the door behind her.
It pained him to let her down in such a way, but he still had a job to do. He set the bag he brought home for her in the corner chair and went to work. Dace pulled open every drawer and looked on every shelf, even cleared her closet. She was hiding something, and he knew it had to be in there. He sat on the edge of her bed and scanned the room. Where would he hide something he didn’t want anyone to find if he had limited physical ability due to injuries?
He’d lifted her mattress and searched – even though it would have been difficult for her and most likely painful. It was a common hiding spot but no luck. He’d even unzipped the chair cushions searching. Where could she easily access something from her bed? Dace sat with his back to the headboard and pillows, legs straight on the bed, just as Ivy had for so many days.
His hand reached behind the headboard, under the lamp, under the nightstand…nothing. Then it hit him. He reached down the side of the bed and lifted the dust ruffle so he could slide his hand along the space between the bed frame and box spring. Bingo. He’d found Carly’s phone. The phone Ivy had been hiding.
All he could think about was getting back to her now that he finally had her back. But this, it kicked him in the gut and set him back a step or two. Why would she need this, and who was she contacting? It lent to her guilt and not her innocence that he so desperately hoped for. Even if there wasn’t a future for the two of them, there was a little boy out in the world who was going to need her.
Dace caught himself imagining this dark, twisted fantasy of the three of them together, even if she was guilty of whatever crimes landed on her. He decided it was easy to imagine because he knew in his heart of hearts that she was the victim, not the villain. And he’d prove it by connecting the dots that led to the real monster behind whatever was going on.
He needed the truth – all the truths – if he was going to make that happen. Dace went to the bag he’d brought for her and pulled out the framed picture of their son and placed it at her bedside. From his pocket, he pulled the two images he’d claimed and propped them against the frame for her to see. The final act in the hand he was playing tonight was the cell phone he’d found, placed right in front of the pictures on the bedside table.
Dace knew what was on that phone, where it had come from, and why she had it. He wanted her to know that they knew what she’d been up to. It was like a game, and he was showing all his cards in hopes she would reveal hers. Then he left the room, closed the door most of the way behind him, and made himself comfortable on the couch.
Then he waited.
He heard the shower turn off, followed by the bathroom door opening a few minutes later. Drawers opened and closed, and he imagined her arranging the things he’d brought home for her just the way she wanted them. Then a sob. The pictures.
Grief didn’t require death. You could grieve a loss without loss of life, and he was certain that was what Ivy was doing — grieving the loss of their son. Hell, he was grieving their son too, and he’d yet to meet the child and had only known about him a handful of days. But that was the odd thing about grief. It lay dormant in your heart and only came out when your heart broke a little…or a lot, depending on the circumstance.
There had to be guilt woven in her emotion. There was no way to miss that phone, and seeing it meant she knew that he now knew she’d stolen it. Another lie. Or maybe it was more deceit, but either way, she wasn’t forthcoming, and that was a problem and left him doubting her once again. The waffling between guilt and innocence was taking its toll on him – as it probably was her.
Dace remained on the couch and played the past few weeks over and over in his head like a highlight reel while searching for a missed clue at every stage as it raced through his memory. Surely there was something there, something right under their n
oses, and he prayed it would just appear while the sounds of her sobs from the other room haunted him. Those sobs weren’t an act. She wasn’t trying to convince anyone of anything. It was a private moment he was intruding on while she broke down in a million pieces. Pieces he wanted to pick up for her, but couldn’t. Not yet.
It was all he could do not to go to her. He didn’t know the ache she felt as a parent. He mostly felt curiosity and wonder where their son was concerned as he was still wrapping his mind around the idea he was someone’s dad. He understood the pain in her sobs related to loss because that was a pain he knew and knew it well. He’d lived with it every day she was gone and wondered if it was the same thing.
Dace stood in front of a decorative mirror on the wall and stared back at the man before him. Every tattoo, every piercing – he stared and judged, wondering if he was worthy of her…of their son. He studied the symbols of his journey to her, to ultimately find them. What it all really meant: was he ready to fight for what he knew or what he didn’t know had been waiting for him? He silently voted for the latter. Defining the fight was important, but the reward, in the end, not so much. If all he walked away with was his son, who he’d only known from pictures at this point, he’d be okay because all those years of searching and wondering would not have been for nothing. They’d be okay. But damn, he hoped Ivy was a part of that reward too.
Whether they were meant to be a family in the traditional sense or not, Dace didn’t know. Whatever was meant to be, would be…as cliché as it sounded, and he was okay with that. He didn’t have to know his son to know he was an O’Reilly, and they belonged together. O’Reillys fought for each other and protected one another and that now included Cashel. He imagined that would end with loving each other too.
What Dace was feeling was a little like love, and perhaps, in some unfamiliar way, that was exactly what it was. How did you love someone you’d never met? That part baffled him, but he was fully subscribed to it. It gave him, and all he had done in the past years, purpose. Perhaps all this time, he hadn’t been chasing Ivy but been chasing the son he didn’t even know about. Life was funny that way.
22
It was well after midnight when Ivy finally came out of her room to find Dace dozing off on the couch – his questions and wonderment becoming dreams while he slept. Though she was quiet and didn’t disturb him, he jolted awake simply by sensing her presence. Years of training in his field of work did that to you.
“Are you okay?” he asked, noting how slowly she seemed to be moving as if she was sore.
He stood to his feet when she didn’t answer and remained still, barely acknowledging him.
“You startled me,” she said with an easy chuckle. “I think I pulled something that I shouldn’t pull.”
He took up beside her. “Let me help you to the couch.”
“No, I’ll go back to bed, you were sleeping.”
“Ivy, I wasn’t sleeping. Not really. You came out here for a reason, so have a seat.” Dace wrapped an arm around her waist and held her hand as he walked her to the sofa. “Just lean on me. I’ll get you there.”
“You’ve been saying that a lot lately,” she teased. “I guess I should start listening.”
Dace snorted. “It would certainly make everything a lot easier. Can I get you anything? You thirsty?”
“No, I’m fine. Really. I just…couldn’t sleep. You really play hardball, O’Reilly.”
“How so?”
Ivy turned her body to face him and leaned into the back of the couch where she played with a loose string on the pillow. He could tell she was trying to find the right words – not just those which were true, but also those which he would believe.
“The kid?” he asked, hoping it would jump-start the conversation, and it worked.
Ivy pulled in her bottom lip as her brow furrowed and nodded. Her chin began to quiver, and her already swollen and bloodshot eyes began to well with emotion.
“I just miss him so much.” She whimpered. In quick motion, she looked up and wiped her tear-stained cheeks with the back of her hands while sniffling. “He was my everything, ya know?”
“I don’t know. I never had that chance.”
“I deserve that.” She wavered somewhere between a smile and a frown as she fought to maintain composure. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way. It was only supposed to be a short time, and we’d…we’d be back together.”
“Is that what your father told you?”
She nodded.
“Then why didn’t you? Why didn’t you come back?”
“The threat never eased up, I guess. Things would be calm for so long, and then suddenly, we were moving again. I couldn’t just leave. One, I had nowhere to go, and two…my father wouldn’t let me. We were in danger. That’s why he hired Eli.”
“Okay.” Dace paused. “You could’ve come here. You’ve always been able to come here. You know I would have protected you – both of you.”
Ivy placed a hand on Dace’s knee. “I know you would have taken care of us, and that’s all I ever wanted, but…”
“But what?”
“But you were in danger too if we did come here. My father was protecting you and your family as much as Cash and me.”
“He told you that?” Dace leaned forward, elbows to knees, and rested his head in his palms. “Ivy. Me – my family…we were never in danger from anyone. And if there was a threat, we’d know about it long before it got here.”
“No. You don’t know that, Dace. They’re dangerous. Whoever this is – whoever my father has been hiding us from…”
“He’s been hiding you from me,” Dace said, frankly. “He’s hiding both of you from me because he couldn’t risk us finding out what he was up to. And if we did…he’d use you.”
“Why would he do that, though? He’s a lot like you, does what you do…”
“Ivy. Your father is the guy we hunt, not the guy who stands alongside us. And I think he’s setting you up to take the fall.”
Her head jerked back in surprise. “Take the fall? For what?”
Dace just shrugged. “We don’t know exactly, but I can tell you it’s really big shit. Drugs, murder, cartel…I could go on.”
“Murder? Dace, I’d never…”
“Would you ever run with cartel drug lords? Run illegal weapons across the borders?”
Ivy’s jaw dropped, and she was mildly offended he would even ask. “I hope you’re only trying to make a point here and not legitimately asking me if I’m capable of those things?”
When he didn’t answer, she fell back onto the couch as though the wind had just been kicked from her lungs.
She whispered, “Dace?”
“Ivy, I want to believe you’re innocent. That you aren’t responsible for those murders back in Moss Bridge, the drugs and weapons coming into town, or the seven murders that have happened here in Portland since you’ve been back.”
“Seven murders? You can’t be serious. I haven’t left the building. Why would I do that – how?”
“Two of the murder victims were responsible for your assault in the alley, linked via DNA. You had motive.”
“Motive?” Her voice became panicked and pitchy. “To kill? I don’t even know who they were or where to find them. I assumed they were the people my father had been protecting us from – the ones who took my father and Cash.”
The people my father had been protecting us from rang over and over in Dace’s head. What if that was exactly what it was supposed to look like? You tell someone something enough times, and they start to believe it – put it in action and where else would one’s mind go? Ivy just gave him a possible clue.
“Or what if the men were hired by your father to hurt you?”
“Wh-what? My father? I-I can’t imagine why…he would…do that.”
“To send a message. To frighten you. They didn’t kill you, Ivy. Was that a mistake or intentional? Maybe, it’s all just a distraction – one to draw attention to you.�
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“I can’t believe he’d do that. He’s taken care of us for years and made sure I had twenty-four-hour protection the entire time.”
“Except for that day in Moss Bridge. He sent you off on your own and kept your bodyguard there. In fact, the meeting was bogus, and Eli didn’t need to be a part of it. Your father sent Eli outside just before the massacre.”
A long silence rested between them while she wrapped her mind around the picture Dace was painting.
“To be killed,” Ivy said as a statement, not a question.
“I believe so – Eli does too. If he hadn’t stopped to sit with Cash, he very likely would have been in the middle of it.”
“This doesn’t make any sense. None of it does. My father… How would I have pulled all this off?”
“Ivy, your picture was found at both local murders, and you appear to be the only one who made it out of Moss Bridge. This looks bad.”
“There’s no way one person killed all those people at the Moss Bridge house. They were massacred, Dace. You were there, you saw it.” Her voice began to quake. “And I don’t know those men. I thought they were after my father.”
“We didn’t find anyone at Moss Bridge. The entire place had been cleaned out.”
“You think I did that? From here?”
“Call logs from the first vic shows communication with you – your phone log matches.”
“What? But I haven’t even had my phone…”
“They date back to before your arrival, Ivy.”
Nerves were kicking in as Ivy began to see the picture Dace was painting. “But Dace, I swear to you…I have not been involved with anyone at all, especially a-a-a drug dealer.”
“The second victim, too, but from the phone I left on your nightstand. Carly’s phone that you stole. I don’t know how you’re going to explain that one away.”
“Dace. I swear, I’m not involved in any of that. Eli can vouch for me – he has been with me every day since the day I left.”
“How do I know he isn’t a part of this game, he’d tell me anything to protect you.”
Brother's Keeper V: Wylie (the complete series BOX SET): NEW RELEASE + Series Box SET included! Page 107