Haley blew out a quick breath. “Right. You’re right. I can do this.” She paused. “But it’s still silly.” She walked toward the door, then stepped into the hallway. Steven followed her down the stairs into the foyer. She stopped at the entrance to the den and her shoulders lifted then fell as she drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. And that was it. She approached the two men in her den. One was seated on the end of her large L-shaped couch. The other stood by the mantel looking at the three pictures she had there.
“Hello. I’m Haley. Which one of you is my . . . um . . . grandfather?”
“I am.” The gentleman on the couch stood with the help of his cane. Haley moved toward him and stopped in front of him, leaving about a foot between them. Steven sensed she might have restrained herself from reaching out and hugging the man.
For ninety years old, he looked good, his back as straight as if he had a steel rod running from the base of his spine to his neck. Steven guessed him to be about six feet two inches or so, since he towered over Haley by about six inches. Ian Burke still had a head full of hair, white as snow.
He wore a short-sleeved collared shirt, dark trousers, and black loafers. He looked casual and comfortable, and if Steven hadn’t known he was as rich as Midas, he sure wouldn’t have suspected it. The man’s eyes hadn’t moved from the woman in front of him. He lifted a hand to touch her hair and she let him wrap a curl around a finger. “Aileen,” he whispered. Tears welled in his green eyes and he drew in a shuddering breath. He cleared his throat and dropped his hand back to his side. “I mean, Haley.”
“I was Aileen to you,” Haley said in a soft voice.
“Aileen. That you were. Are. Could I . . . hug you?”
Haley stepped forward and wrapped her arms around the man’s waist.
Haley stood still, feeling this man’s arms around her and wondering what had happened to her life. She had twenty-five years to catch up on. Maybe.
“I’m sorry to be intruding so late, but I couldn’t wait another minute to see you.”
A tremor went through him and she stepped back. He let her go, but she sensed he didn’t want to. A flash of a younger Ian Burke blipped across her mind. He held her in front of him on a horse and she heard her laughter as they trotted through a green field. “You’re the reason I love horses,” she blurted.
Tears filled his eyes and he blinked them away. “You wanted to be on the back of a horse from the moment you knew what the animal was.”
“I remember that. I think.”
“To be sure you do.”
Did she? Or did she just desperately want to? Uncertainty flooded her. She glanced at Steven, who stood silent in the doorway and briefly wondered why his presence calmed her. She’d have to think about that later.
Haley turned back to the man she believed was her grandfather. She hadn’t had the time to do the kind of research she’d wanted to do before meeting him. But maybe that was a good thing.
“Please. Sit. I’ll get you some tea.”
“We can forgo the tea just now, if that’s all right with ye?”
“It’s all right.” She focused her attention on his companion, who was still standing near her mantel. He’d stayed silent thus far. Her grandfather sat and she motioned the other man to the wingback chair. He hesitated, glanced at her grandfather, then seated himself on the edge, back ramrod straight.
Her grandfather nodded to his friend. “This is Hugh McCort. He’s been in my employ in some shape or form for the past forty years. He’s a faithful employee and”—he cleared his throat—“a good friend.”
Hugh started, then looked down. “Thank you, Ian.” He spoke to the floor, but his gruff voice carried.
“Of course.” Her grandfather looked back at her. “You’ve lost your accent.”
Haley smiled. “I haven’t lost it, it’s just been . . . diluted, I guess. It still comes out occasionally.”
A police officer poked his head in the door. “Is it all right if I go up?”
“Of course,” Haley said.
Her grandfather frowned. “What’s going on? All the Gardaí—I mean, police. What are they doing here?”
“Someone broke into my home tonight. They’ll be leaving soon.”
“Broke into your home? Are you all right?”
“Quite, thank you.” She didn’t want to get into it right now. “Please, tell me what you’re doing here.”
“I got impatient. O’Brien hadn’t called and wasn’t answering his phone. I have a private plane and decided to put it to good use.”
“Where’s your pilot?”
“Hugh has been flying since he could walk. One of the reasons I hired him long ago. Anyway, we snuck away from the castle under cover of darkness and took off.” He ran a hand through his white hair and she had another glimpse of what he’d looked like as a younger man—a powerful businessman. “I haven’t flown since before you disappeared. It was . . . invigorating. I feel twenty years younger already.”
“Duncan said you shut yourself away for a long time,” she said.
He sighed and his thin chin quivered. “I did. I fell into a deep depression. The only thing that kept me going was your grandmam and, eventually, work. And then another attempt was made on my life and I realized that if I died, they would win.”
“‘They’ being whoever killed the rest of the family.”
“Exactly.”
“So you fought back.”
“The only way I knew how. By becoming a recluse and staying alive.” He closed his eyes and inhaled. When he opened them, they held intense grief before he blinked it away. “Now, it sounds as if O’Brien made contact with you. Did he?”
“He did.”
“Then do you know where he is? I’m quite worried about the lad.”
She reached out and grasped his fingers. “He was shot last night. But he’s in the hospital and expected to recover.”
Her grandfather paled and Hugh gave a low gasp. “Shot?”
“It was an ambush as we were coming out of a restaurant last night. Duncan took the worst of it.”
“Oh my, oh my, that’s terrible.” He rubbed a hand across his forehead.
“I know, but he should be all right.”
“Who did this? Who would shoot Duncan?”
“I . . . I’m not sure.” Indecision raced through her. Did she tell him that she was the target and Duncan the poor collateral damage? Yes. She wouldn’t start their relationship—or whatever—with secrets. “I don’t think he was the intended target. But we’ll check on Duncan in a bit. Right now, I want to ask about the day the castle was attacked.”
A light shudder shook him. “That was a day I’ll never forget and try not to remember.”
“I understand.”
“Go ahead. Ask your questions.”
She rubbed her palms together. “You have no idea who was behind the attacks?”
He paused, then shook his head. “I can’t say that I do. Oh, I’ve had my theories and I’ve even hired investigators over the years to look into it, but I have no idea. It comes back to a particular mafia family that was prevalent twenty-five years ago. And I suppose it very well could have been them.”
“But . . . ?”
“But I’m not so sure.”
“Did they have a reason to target you?”
“Indeed. Back in the 1800s my father was very active in bringing the railroad to County Mayo. That’s how we amassed a great deal of our family fortune. Then later, in the 1920s, he saw that the government wasn’t utilizing the sea to its advantage. B&I was the great shipping company and my father wanted to throw a bit of competition their way. If you know your Irish history, you know that even after Ireland won her independence from Britain, Britain still had control of our shipping. And even though many Irish lads were employed by the British, my father wanted more. He wanted Ireland to be fully free of Britain’s hold on the shipping industry.”
“So he built his own shipping company.”
> “That he did, me dad. He was a clever fellow with a keen instinct for business.”
“Looks like he passed that on to you.”
“He did.” Her grandfather breathed in. “But there were some who were none too happy about all of that. There was a feud between our family and the O’Reillys, another shipping company. But that went way back. And truth is, it was initially investigated, but nothing turned up.”
Haley made a note to do her own investigation. She studied him. Took in every detail about him. “I want to know them.”
“Who?”
“My family. I want to know who they were. Who they loved, what they hated, their favorite foods . . . everything. Do I have cousins? Aunts or uncles?”
His eyes reddened and he swiped a shaky hand over them. “You have three cousins removed but no first cousins. Your father was my only child and we were surprised to get him. Your dear grandmam and I had been married twelve years before he came along. I was closing in on forty and she was thirty-seven when he was born. I have a brother and a sister. They’re quite a bit younger than I.” He nodded toward Hugh. “But you were great friends with Hugh’s niece, Siobhan. She was just a couple of years older than you. You were more like sisters than friends.”
“She talks about you to this day,” Hugh said.
Haley shook her head. “I don’t remember her.” Did she? Siobhan. The name triggered something deep within. Laughter, giggles, merry-go-rounds, swinging so high she could touch the sky . . . She turned back to her grandfather. “What did I call you?” she whispered.
“Grand,” he said. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I was Daideo to you and wee John.”
She swallowed the lump in her own throat and realized she was coming to accept this whole crazy story. “Daideo.” Yes, she remembered that. But still . . . “I don’t mean to hurt you, but I want another DNA test as well.”
He simply nodded and she realized he’d expected her to ask. For some reason the thought comforted her.
“Where are you staying?” she asked.
He shot a glance at the man who’d remained mostly silent. “What was the name of the hotel?”
“The Marriott.”
“That’s it.”
Haley hesitated, thought about what she was about to say and whether or not she wanted to. And whether or not it would be safe, but . . . “Would you want to stay here? I have plenty of room. I . . . I mean, if you think you’d be comfortable. If you’d prefer your own space, I certainly under—”
“We’d be honored,” her grandfather said softly. “We’d love to stay here, but I don’t want to impose.”
Haley shook her head. “Not at all. I keep the rooms ready just in case someone needs them. And each room has its own bathroom so that should help. But—” What if they shouldn’t? What if Richie sent the killer back?
“But?”
“It might not be safe. No, never mind, that’s probably not a good idea.” She couldn’t put them in danger.
“Not safe? Does that have to do with this break-in that happened tonight?”
“I think so. I seem to have made a rather dangerous man angry when I intervened in a domestic violence situation.”
“Then we should definitely stay.”
Haley shook her head. “You should definitely go.”
“No,” Steven said. “They should stay.”
“What? Why?” Haley stared at him.
“Safety in numbers?”
“Tell that to Duncan.”
He winced.
“No,” she said, “there’s a good chance Richie—or one of his goons—could try to strike again. I don’t want anyone else getting hurt because someone is after me.”
Her grandfather rose, steadied himself with his cane, and stepped over to her. He took her hand. “I want to stay. Please. You’re a bodyguard. You keep people safe, do you not?”
“Well, yes, but I’m not usually the target.”
Her phone buzzed and she read the text.
Zeke
I need u. Richie’s here n I think he’s going 2 kill us all this time. Help us.
[14]
Steven blinked when Haley shot to her feet. “What are you doing?”
“Going to help Zeke. Richie’s there.” She raced out the door after yelling for Steven and Quinn to follow her and the others to stay with her grandfather and his friend.
Steven was already on the phone requesting officers be routed to Zeke’s residence. “Haley, you should stay here,” Steven shouted at her. “There are still too many questions—who is the shooter? Who was in your bedroom?”
She climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed the door. He opened the passenger side. “You should stay here,” he repeated.
“Not a chance,” she said. “And besides, Richie’s at Zeke’s house. He’s not planning his next move on how to send me on to eternity.”
“But—”
“He’s terrorizing a family with a sick kid, Steven. I hate bullying and that’s all he is—a bully.”
“I agree, but he’s a possibly deadly one.”
“That I made angry.”
She shot him a pleading glance and he knew he might as well give in. She was going. “Then get in my car,” he said. “I’ve got the lights.”
Haley jumped out of her Hummer with a gasp of pain, but didn’t let that slow her as she raced to the passenger side of his truck. Quinn was waiting on them in his own vehicle when Steven climbed in, hit the lights, and squealed away from the curb. Quinn fell in behind them. She went silent and he could almost see her brain working. He glanced back at the road. He needed to focus on his driving, not her. “What are you thinking?” he asked.
“Second-guessing myself.”
“Why?”
“Duncan was watching me before everything went down with Richie.”
“Yes.”
“I’ve also thought about what you said. What if the attack really wasn’t related to Richie? I just can’t get the guy that broke into my house out of my head. He’s done this before. He skirted the officer on duty and he came with murder as his intent. He was prepared, efficient, and deadly. If I had been in my bed, I wouldn’t have known what hit me.”
He glanced in the rearview mirror. Quinn was right on his tail. “Then someone else wants you dead.”
“But who? Why?”
“Someone from your past? Someone who knows you’re still alive and doesn’t like the fact?”
“But how would they know?”
She grabbed the door handle as he took a particularly sharp turn. “Could be Duncan was right and someone followed him right to you,” he said.
“Right.”
He flew through the streets and cut the time in half that it would normally take to reach Zeke’s house from hers. To him, it felt like it took a year. Domestic violence situations always got to him. Finally, he pulled to a stop at the edge of the drive. Other officers were there, cruiser doors open. Two officers stood talking. Steven relaxed a fraction and climbed from the vehicle, making sure his badge was visible on his belt. “What’s the situation?”
The two officers turned. One a pretty blonde, the other an older man with graying hair and hard blue eyes. “Got a domestic violence call. When we got here the guy was gone and nobody’s talking. It was all a misunderstanding.” He rolled his eyes.
Haley stepped up beside Steven. “I’m going to check on Zeke.”
She walked toward the front door and halted when it flew open. Steven turned from the officers to see Zeke’s frantic face.
“He’s not breathing!” Zeke shouted. “I think he’s dead. Someone help him.”
Haley pushed past him and raced into the house. Steven bolted after them.
Haley rounded the doorway and into Micah’s room, where she found his mother crying and attempting to do CPR at the same time. She looked up at Haley’s entrance. “Call 911! His heart’s stopped.” She continued to do compressions.
Haley pulled her phone from the clip o
n her belt.
“I’ve got it,” Steven said from behind her. “Do you want to wait for the ambulance or put him in the car?”
“I’ve got an AED, but I’ve never used it before. His heart’s never stopped before,” Belinda said through her tears. “Grab it, please. There. On the desk. I read the instructions, but I—”
Haley found it and rushed to the bedside. The woman already had her son’s shirt open, his chest exposed. She felt for a pulse and couldn’t find one.
“Do something!” Zeke cried. “He’s dying!”
“You know how to work it?” Belinda gasped.
“Yes. Do you know how to do mouth-to-mouth?”
Belinda nodded.
“Breathe when I tell you to breathe. Move when I tell you to move, got it?”
“Yes, yes, just help him.”
Haley grabbed the sticky pads and placed them on his chest. “Breathe.”
Belinda blew a breath into her son’s lungs.
“Now don’t touch him.” Haley then hit the analyze button. The machine ordered her to deliver a shock. “Stand clear.”
Zeke and his mother moved back and she pressed the shock button.
Micah jerked and Haley placed her fingers on his pulse—or where he should have a pulse. “Breathe again, Belinda.”
She did.
“Come on, come on,” she heard Zeke mutter. “Please, Micah.”
Haley waited. Praying to feel something. Anything. But got nothing. “Clear again.” She went through the cycle once again and was ordered to give him another shock. She did. He jerked.
“Ambulance is almost here,” Steven said.
Haley felt for his pulse while her own thundered in her ears. “Come on, kid,” she whispered. And then she felt it. A flutter under her fingertips. Then another and another. “Got it! I got a pulse.” She kept her fingers there while she checked his breathing. He wasn’t. She placed her mouth over his and blew while feeling his weak pulse beating beneath her fingers.
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