Pierce must have deliberately sent me a picture of facing down a giant of a man, and winning. I grinned. “And the big guy, red hair, green eyes, is your father?”
“Lorcán. Means fierce.” There was no doubt Pierce respected his dad.
I tapped his arm. “Your mother may be tiny, but she’s cornered fierce when it comes to your father. I like her. Like both of them. You don’t look like your dad at all.”
“No. Damn good thing I have Athair’s temperament but look like Máthair.”
A series of images flashed across my internal screen, all of them with Pierce in dicey moments with beautiful women. Most of them were pointing a gun at him. “Uh-huh. Looks like being a handsome dude got you out of a few tight spots.”
“Some.” He jerked his arm away from me, put his hand back on the steering wheel. “That should be enough to prep you for…home.”
“Maybe. None of those images explained why we’re going to your parents’ house.” I was digging, pushing him.
“Returning the car to Siofra.”
That was probably true, but it wasn’t the reason we were in Ireland. “Eamon Grady?”
“Lives near Máthair and Athair.” Brisk, chilly words.
Curiosity aside, I let it drop. I’d invaded enough of Pierce’s personal life to hold me for the next hour or so, as long as it took us to get to… “Where exactly are we going?”
Pierce managed a grin, but his face was still pasty gray. “Not too far from Blarney Castle. Want to kiss the stone?”
Keep it light, Everly. I shifted position to look at him full-on. “It would be horribly remiss of me to be so close and not kiss the Blarney Stone. After all, I need to fill in all the words you forget to say.”
His belly laugh was genuine and warmed my soul. It wasn’t often I could work my way beneath Pierce’s super spy, protective exterior and reach the man. Spoiling the moment wasn’t an option, so I held my questions at bay, and kept the last image I’d seen, the one that rocked my sanity, to myself.
Cait Connor had been standing behind a wheelchair, smiling down at a man, and was one of my rare future images.
EIGHTEEN
“WE SHOULD FIND A CAR WASH. It would be polite to return a clean, vacuumed vehicle to your mother.” I looked around the semi-trashed car. “We’ve been living in here for a gazillion hours and there’s the distinct aroma of unwashed bodies and stale food. We should probably shower and clean up before—”
Pierce glanced at me, added one of his patented grunts. “Glanmire. The petrol station has a car wash. No shower unless you want to audition as a hood ornament.” He gave me a lame grin, then tapped the steering wheel in an unconscious rhythm. “Thanks for thinking of my máthair.”
The knot of worry that had been riding in my chest released. I drew in a breath, filling my lungs. It was going to be okay, going home with Tynan Pierce. “She’s a woman. I’m a woman. We have an estrogen bond going on that makes for easy communication.”
“This is gonna be worse than the ninth circle of hell.”
“Treachery?” I shrugged. “I suppose female intuition is capable of treachery, but mostly not. Most women aren’t unfaithful, traitorous, double-crossing bitches. Has Annie ever met your parents?”
Damn it all. I hadn’t checked in with Annie since Pierce arrived in Torquay. She’d kill me. I fumbled for my phone, gave up when Pierce answered me.
“No. And what does A.J. have to do with female treachery?” He sounded serious.
My mouth dropped open. “Nothing. She’s not treacherous at all. But she was a super spy, and your partner in all things covert. Surely she taught you the advantages of female intuition. Heck, the two of you could write a book on covert technique.”
His smile was infectious. “Yeah. But A.J. would shoot me if I suggested we divulge secrets about estrogen-based intuition.”
My heart skipped a beat. There was something relaxed and little-boy in that smile I’d never seen before. I turned away for a second to gather my thoughts, and then glanced at him with a question. “Are you happy to be going home, to see your family?”
The smile disappeared, and I immediately regretted asking. “Sorry. I’m prying where I shouldn’t be.”
“My parents are good people, but we have philosophical differences.” His tone was even, modulated.
“Isn’t that true of most parents and their offspring? I had a great relationship with my folks, but loved them very, um, differently, after I left for college.”
Pierce shot me a quick glance. “How’d that go?” He wiggled his fingers.
“The touching thing?”
He nodded.
“Mom and dad were the quintessential overprotective parents. They homeschooled me, so it took some adjustment, learning to keep my fingers to myself in crowded areas.” I shuddered, remembering the agony of accidentally brushing against strangers and seeing their intimate secrets. “I’m a fast learner. Figured out how to do most things without using my fingertips.”
Pierce sighed. “Suggestion. Keep them away from my family.”
Irritation and hurt bubbled deep in my gut. “That’s why you brought this up? To warn me not to trespass in your parents’ privacy? I thought you knew me better than that.”
“Máthair is…friendly. Hard to resist.”
It sounded like his words had been buried a long time ago, and were suddenly being dug out from some deep, dark place in his psyche. My empathy overcame common sense. “I could stay in…where did you say? Glanmire. They must have a hotel or bed and breakfast, someplace I can wait for you while you return your mom’s car. I could rent my own vehicle there, and then we can start looking for Grady.”
“No need. We’ll stay with my family.”
Panic took over, and adrenaline flooded my veins. “What? What does that mean, stay with your family? You mean in the same house?” I couldn’t keep the sheer terror out of my voice.
His lips twitched. “No. They’ll probably put us in their guest house.”
“Probably? Give me percentages, something I can count on.”
My obvious panic brought out a legendary Pierce grin. “Fifty-fifty.”
I stared at him, calculating. The frightening lack of color in his skin was completely at odds with the grin. Something was going on, and I didn’t have a clue how to get to the root of it. My fingers itched to touch him. This time with a specific question in mind.
But we’d reached the turnoff for Gleann Maghair and I was distracted by the view. The sun was low in sky and cast a golden glow over the rolling hills and stone bridge. “It’s lovely. We should probably stay here and eat supper. You know, so we don’t arrive at a bad time. Your family doesn’t expect us…do they?” I honestly had no clue. “Did you text them, call them?”
“No. Máthair will want to feed us.”
His tone left no room for discussion, but I tried anyway. “It won’t be that late when we get there, around five. What if—”
He huffed out a sigh. “She’ll need to feed us, Belisama.”
We took care of cleaning the car, and were back on the road in twenty minutes. The closer we got to wherever Pierce’s family lived, the quieter he got. Not that Tynan Pierce ever ran at the mouth, but there was a strange tension vibrating around him. “Is there anything you want to tell me before we get there?”
“No.” He turned onto a side road that was marked with a sign that read Tuatha Dé Danann.
I pointed to it. “What does that mean?”
“People of the Goddess Dana.” His knuckles went white on the steering wheel.
“Oh.” My belly hollowed. “Is this where your family lives? Are they spiritual?
He sighed. “They’re peaceful. Gentle.”
Exactly the opposite of their son’s worldly persona. “That fits. So are you.”
He jerked his head to look at me. “What?”
I lifted my hands, shrugged. “Isn’t it obvious? You couldn’t be the warrior you are if your core beliefs weren’t
based in peace and respect. A huge part of your life has been spent making life or death decisions. I’m learning that it doesn’t come easily, and there’s always a price. Just before I shot Fion Connor, I was acutely aware that she was Cait’s mother, and that her death would affect Cait in a slew of ways. It didn’t stop me from shooting, but it, and a few other things, stopped me from taking a kill shot. I wouldn’t have missed, Pierce. Not if I’d intended to murder her.”
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, and then turned into a paved area just off the road to the right. “Huh.”
Trees surrounded the area. No visible buildings. Did Pierce’s parents camp? Like in tents? “Is this where your family lives?”
“Yup.” He shut off the engine, popped the trunk, and pocketed the car keys. “Get that Sig out of the glove box will you? Needs to be stowed in the boot.”
Was boot an Irish term as well as British? Not that it mattered. I dropped the gun in my handbag, got out of the car, stood, stretched into a couple of yoga poses, then hustled to the back of the Citroën where Pierce was unloading his duffle and my suitcase.
He pointed to a metal box. “Gun goes in there. You have any other weapons?”
“Just my knife.” I dug it out of my handbag, showed it to him.
“You can keep it with you.”
I clicked the suitcase handle into “pull” position. “Which way?”
“There’s a path.” He slammed the trunk closed and pointed. “Follow me.”
We wandered along a paved trail that wound through a wooded area. Eventually it opened to a… “It’s a village. Your parents live in a…” Words defeated me.
“Self-sufficient commune.” Pierce broke off from the path and turned to the left. “House on the end.”
The houses were small, but well kept. There was a center building that appeared to have shops, a grocery, and other places like that. Pierce wasn’t giving me time to check things out. “Are we in a hurry?”
“Not exactly.” He stopped at the bottom of the steps leading to his parents’ front door.
My last morsel of patience was gone. “You know, it would help if you told me exactly what’s going on here.”
I glanced up at the exact moment the front door opened and forgot to breathe.
She was a Madonna…without the halo, but she definitely radiated peace. Her complexion was lighter than her son’s, and her hair was pure silver, but those eyes were exactly the same and left no doubt I was face-to-face with Tynan Pierce’s mom.
“Máthair.” His voice was soft, respectful.
“Bheatha bhaile.” She nodded at me. “Welcome to our home, Everly. I’m Siofra, Tynan’s mother.” Her voice had the lilting brogue that Pierce’s did, but it didn’t carry his usual undertone of command. She sounded the way a soft Hawaiian breeze felt, and for a moment I was home. Until the enormity of her words hit me, and shock rolled down, pooling in my belly. Pierce’s mother knew about me. Knew who I was.
Pierce motioned me up the stairs. “Leave the suitcase. I’ll get it in a minute.”
I shut down my ESP fingers as tightly as possible, grabbed the handrail for support, and made my way up the six steps. Siofra smiled at me, and then touched my cheek, delicately as though I might break. Tears welled from someplace deep in my heart, surprising me with an unexpected emotion that I couldn’t identify. Acceptance, maybe. She wrapped me in a gentle hug, and I inhaled the scent of lavender and honey. It fit her perfectly. And embarrassed the hell out of me, since I must have smelled like week-old garbage.
When she broke the hug to reach for her son, a crazy sensation of loneliness overwhelmed me. It disappeared in an instant, but left me reeling. Must have been the power of a mother’s hug. I hadn’t felt that in a long time.
They said a few words in Gaelic to each other, then Siofra took my hand, apologized, and switched to English. “This is rude of us. Please come inside, Everly. It’s early, but there’s supper waiting.”
Pierce had jogged down the steps to retrieve my suitcase, so I paused, turned, waited for him to join Siofra and me on the stoop. A flash of movement in front of the grocery store caught my attention, and when I looked up a young woman caught my eye. She seemed familiar, but I couldn’t see clearly, because she was bending over a man in a wheelchair.
I stared.
She stood, tossing a fall of long, brown hair away from her face.
It was Cait Connor. In an exact replica of the future image I’d picked up from touching Pierce.
NINETEEN
OF COURSE I’D KNOWN CAIT was in Ireland, but here? At Tuatha Dé Danann? That didn’t fit at all. I’d only been here five minutes and already knew it wasn’t your average community. What were the odds Cait would show up here?
I whirled on Pierce. “You knew.”
He shook his head. He had to be lying.
Siofra smiled. “Do you know our Caitlin, then?”
I spun back around. “Yes, from Torquay. Is she a frequent visitor?”
“Just casually. She carries much on those young shoulders.” Siofra fussed with her hair. “She’s here to visit with her father of course, and the community encourages him to share her burdens. So far our success can be measured in very small increments, but we have faith that the Goddess Dana will touch his soul with harmony from the earth, and he’ll come to understand Caitlin’s needs more fully.”
Pierce snorted. He’d joined us on the stoop while Siofra and I chatted, and now he used the edge of my suitcase to nudge me behind my knee. “Inside, Belisama.” Tension vibrated in his words.
My spidey sense kicked in and my heart dropped to my toes. Something was up, and it wasn’t good. “I’m just going to run and say hello to Cait—”
Pierce’s grip on my suitcase made it into an immoveable force that he used to shove me into the house. “Not now.”
“Just leave the bags here in the hall, Tynan. I want to be sure you have a chance to eat before your da gets home from the community service,” Siofra said, then she scurried down the hall toward the amazing scent of what I hoped was Irish stew.
Pierce grunted his agreement, set our bags down, and manacled my upper arm with a don’t-even-think-of-escaping grip.
I wrestled free. “I’ll wait to find Cait until after you explain what the hell is going on. But right now, please tell me that smell is Irish stew. Other than convenience store food, it’s my first meal in your country, and at the risk of being annoyingly predictable, I really, really want it to be stew.”
Pierce gave me a forced smile. “It’s stew. Máthair makes the best, and there will be pub salad as well.” His brogue had become richer, fuller in the short time he’d been talking with Siofra. It vibrated in my chest, making me want to trust him. But I couldn’t. Not after his noticeable lack of surprise at finding Cait here.
We sat at a weathered pine trestle table in Siofra’s warm kitchen. She ladled the stew into handmade pottery bowls, then took a loaf of bread from the oven and placed it on a blue plaid cloth in the center of the table. “I heated the bread just a bit so the butter would melt,” she said, putting a plate of what looked like a lump of homemade butter next to the bread.
She sat across from us, her gaze steady on my face while I took the first bite of stew. I groaned. The lamb melted on my tongue and mixed with the flavors of cabbage, leeks, celery, and peas.
Siofra grinned. “You like it, yes?”
“It is absolutely perfect,” I said, tearing off a hunk of bread.
She scooted a plate and fork toward me, then scooped a mound of salad on the plate. I recognized lettuce, beets, cucumber, cabbage, and eggs, but when I tasted it, the ingredients in the dressing escaped me. “Delicious. What’s in the dressing?”
“The flavor you’re unfamiliar with is probably the malt vinegar.” She tucked her chin, shy.
I barely controlled the urge to lean across the table and hug her. With only warm smiles and few bites of food that had been prepared with love, Pierce’s mother had
firmly established herself in my heart. “Your mother is incredible.” I nudged him with my elbow. “How is it she knows about me, my name?”
Pierce scowled. Siofra blushed.
“She, ah, asked.”
“I’ve always known when my son is hiding something. It’s a mother’s way, and he’s a rare visitor here, so there had to be a reason he needed my Citroën.”
Pierce hadn’t lost his scowl. “She’s a force to be reckoned with.”
Siofra nodded. “I am that. Best you eat before I start poking into what you and Everly are about.”
A prudent woman would have dug into her food and left Pierce to answer Siofra’s implied question. I’d never been that sensible or practical. “We’re here to…see…Eamon Grady.”
Surprise fluttered across Siofra’s face. “Eamon?”
I swallowed my last bite of stew. “Yes. Does he live here?”
A low, threatening rumble sounded in Pierce’s throat.
Siofra stared at her son, one eyebrow arched. There was no doubt where Pierce inherited the expression. “Yes. Eamon is a resident.”
Anger spiked. I didn’t think about it, simply latched onto Pierce’s arm fingertips tuned to wide-open trespassing mode. To give him credit, he didn’t so much as flinch. Images flashed of Grady at a distance, Pierce arguing with his parents, and a pissed off Pierce storming away in his mother’s Citroën. “You never talked to him? Never questioned him?”
“No. Needed more intel.” Pierce pushed his empty bowl to the side, then buttered a slice of bread.
Siofra patted my hand. “Eamon is one of our more difficult residents. He’s never fully embraced our connection with the land, but the Goddess Dana doesn’t give up on potential followers. We are gentle people and offer protection to anyone who actively pursues peace.” She sounded desperate.
“He’s a psychopath, Ma. You’re not safe.”
My attention flipped between mother and son, and I began to see why Pierce had been acting so odd lately. With Eamon Grady living this close to his parents, Pierce had to be freaked out about their safety, and apparently Grady had been living here for quite a while. And now my quest for revenge had brought my confrontation with Grady into Pierce’s family home. Guilt settled like a lead weight. “We need to leave, Pierce. Take Grady away from here.”
a Touch of Revenge (Romantic Mystery - book 6): The Everly Gray Adventures Page 13