by D. N. Leo
She was a hell of a fighter when it came to survival. Ciaran checked Stephen and found the same strong, steady pulse. Neither were conscious, and the fact they’d clung to the rock in the freezing water amazed Ciaran. He took them home.
37
An hour seemed like an eternity to Ciaran. Finally, he saw Madeline open her eyes. It amazed him that he had been able to totally control his emotional reactions—the urge to hold her in his arms, to hear her heartbeat, and to feel the vibration of her emotions inside that delicate body assaulted him without mercy and left him defenceless.
He rushed to the bed, pulled her up, and let her body melt into his arms.
Then he released her and said, “Yesterday you promised me you wouldn’t walk away from me.”
“I might have to break that promise. I only bring you disaster, Ciaran. Nothing good is going to come from you staying with me.”
“If you come with a package, I’ll take all of it. Why don’t you give us a chance?”
She shook her head. “I have to find Jo.”
“If we find Jo, will you stay with me, or will you go back to New York?” The question came as a surprise to her, and to him as well. Madeline gave no answer.
“Is Stephen okay?” she asked.
“Yes. Doctor Thomas has taken care of him. He had some minor external injuries. But he’s fine. He’d already told me about the attack from his end. He didn’t know what happened before he got to you.”
“Just after I left Mon Ciel, they attacked me. I don’t know how many of them were there—or who they were. I think it was the same people who attacked me at Fosse Way. They shot at me again.” She looked down to her injured arm, and frowned.
“You don’t feel any pain now because of the painkillers. We make the best.” He smiled and sat on the side of her bed. “Madeline, I have a very complicated family.”
“Tell me about it!”
“After we find Jo, and if you decide to stay, I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
His phone buzzed.
“We have to find Jo first,” Madeline said emphatically.
Ciaran looked up from his phone and grinned. On the computer screen, Jo looked at Madeline with a big, bright smile on her face. Her catlike, green eyes glittered, and her long black hair was pulled back in a ponytail. “Madeline!” Jo yelped in joy.
Madeline was speechless, and tears flowed.
“Come on, Madeline, don’t do that. I’m good now. I could do a somersault right now, but I don’t think it’s very ladylike to do so, and I might frighten Mr. Serious Detective here.” Jo turned aside and winked at him. “I need to cheer her up.”
“Keep talking, Jo,” Madeline said.
“I got really lucky. In the afternoon, after Zen talked to you, a couple—I don’t even know their names—broke into the hotel. They beat Zen up pretty bad and let me go.”
Madeline smiled but her tears kept falling.
“The couple told me to hide for a bit before going to the police. So I did. I went to the police early in the evening. Then late that night, Detective Adamson contacted the station and picked me up. I’m in his office right now.”
“Last night, I thought—”
“I know. Michael— Detective Adamson told me. It must have been hard on you and everyone involved. I’m so sorry. But I’m fine now. When we finish with the paperwork here, he’s going to take me right over to your place . . .” Jo turned sideways. “What? You don’t know where she is?”
Ciaran walked over and hopped onto the bed. “Jo, I’ll send someone to pick you up.”
Jo stared at the screen and cooed, “You must be Ciaran. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”
“I didn’t do a thing. You saved yourself, Jo. And it was a very smart move to name me as your contact person. You know how to pull strings.”
Jo grinned. “You set the strings up first. Otherwise, I’d have had nothing to pull.”
“Have you been to England before?”
“Haven’t had the pleasure.”
“Why don’t you stay for a few days? There are many wonderful places to see.”
“You made my dreams come true, Ciaran.” Jo beamed at the screen. “Madeline and I can finally do our girl shopping in London!”
Madeline nodded. They heard Detective Adamson calling out for Jo. She rolled her eyes. “Paperwork. See you soon. Love you both.” She grinned at Madeline and Ciaran and disconnected the call.
“Inviting Jo to stay . . . Very clever, Ciaran. Thank you.” She smiled and linked her fingers with his.
As soon as she touched him, he felt the comfort he’d been longing for. Not the comfort, perhaps, but the fear of having it and then losing it—the fear of what came afterward. Something wasn’t right. Ciaran shook the thoughts out of his mind.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“Famished.”
“Then let’s fix that.”
Ciaran and Madeline left the room and found Tadgh standing in the hallway, leaning against the opposite wall with a big grin on his face.
“What are you doing up here?” Ciaran asked.
“Rumor has it that our princess was up, so I just wanted to come to say hello.”
Madeline smiled, approaching to give Tadgh a kiss. “How are you, Tadgh?”
“Better than you were at dawn. You scared the hell out of my big brother.” Tadgh paused, making a humming noise, then pressed on. “You’re still mad at Mother, aren’t you?” he said to Ciaran. “Come on, she doesn’t deserve your wrath. Be mad at me. You can punch me, if you like.”
“Grow up, Tadgh.”
“This is as grown up as I can be at the moment. Give me a few more years, will you?”
“Take your time. Mrs. Rutherford is in, and I’m going to introduce Madeline to her famous jam and scones.” Ciaran slid his arm around Madeline’s back to lead her down the hallway.
“Ah . . .” Tadgh mumbled something.
“What?” Ciaran asked, without turning back.
“Mum is waiting for you in the Great Reception.”
Ciaran slowly turned around as if accepting a challenge. “Very well. Would you accompany Madeline to the kitchen?”
“Ah . . . mum asked for both of you, actually.”
Ciaran knew what was coming and opened his mouth with the intention of asking Madeline to go to the kitchen to stay out of this, but she had already grabbed his arm. “Come on. Let’s go have a chat with her.”
He had no choice but take her with him. Tadgh followed without making a sound.
38
The Great Reception room was used for family gatherings. Jennifer remembered vividly Conan sitting in the chair in front of the fireplace. Her husband had loved to watch her teach baby Tadgh to walk—he fell so many times trying to run. Conan had gotten a thrill out of a young Ciaran presenting him with new chemical formulas that he had mixed from his mother’s cooking recipes.
Ciaran had been only four turning five, but he’d been able to heal many injured wild animals he found in their yard by using things he found in the kitchen and the garden. That pleased Conan tremendously, inasmuch as he was devastated when Ciaran mixed his first explosive compound and blew up the head of the Goddess of Kindness statue. Conan had then put the statue in the middle of the yard to remind Ciaran of the consequences of violence. But Jennifer knew that wouldn’t work for Ciaran.
She knew her son.
And she would do whatever it took to keep him safe and to keep this family together under the roof of Mon Ciel. They couldn’t afford mistakes this year. She couldn’t allow strangers in the house this year.
She knew what was behind the number thirty-three. But she would take the secret to her grave. Revealing it to Ciaran would undo his life. She would rather rot in Hell than doing that.
So for now, she had to eliminate the immediate threat—those strangers in their home—and she had to live with Ciaran’s resultant wrath.
Ciaran and Madeline walked in, followed by Tadgh
.
Jennifer sat on a chair at the top of a long dining table. “I’m sorry about what happened to you last night, Madeline,” she spoke gently.
“They couldn’t get to me last night, whoever they were, but I’m sure they’ll find another opportunity.”
“You’re a reasonable girl, Madeline. I’m sure you won’t mind me arranging a late breakfast here. I feel like a morning tea myself. Then we can discuss some family business.”
“Your house, your rules, Jennifer.”
“That’s a good sign. We’re starting to understand each other a bit better now. Why don’t you all sit down?”
Tadgh didn’t need a second invitation. He grabbed a chair and settled in.
“Tadgh travels extensively and has experienced great foods all over the world, but he always craves Mrs. Rutherford’s scones and jam. At one point, he asked me to express post them to him when he was in Africa!” Jennifer smiled.
“Mother, that’s not to be spread around. You promised me,” Tadgh protested.
“You were lucky you didn’t ask me to do that.” Ciaran smiled slightly.
“That wasn’t luck. I was being smart.”
“You know, Madeline, Ciaran’s father called this place ‘Mon Ciel,’ as if this was his blue sky, his heaven, his world. And he wasn’t talking about the palace. He meant the family that he loved with all of his heart. Am I correct, Ciaran?”
“What are you getting at, Mother?” Ciaran lowered his voice.
“The LeBlancs were blessed with their fortune, but they were also cursed with secrets, Madeline,” Jennifer said.
“She doesn’t need to know any of that,” Ciaran growled out in protest.
“As you can see, like his father, my son will do whatever it takes to protect the family secrets . . .”
“Mother!” Ciaran stood up.
“And as you can see, he was about to bully his mother out of her place.”
“I would never—”
“Then you will give me a fair chance to speak to Madeline. I think she cares for you, so she should hear what I have to say. Don’t you agree, Madeline?”
Madeline nodded. “I’ll listen, but I’ll reserve judgment. There’s nothing you can do or say to influence me.”
“Naturally! And Ciaran, I will only speak the truth, and if you think otherwise, you can have your say. Of course, that will only happen if you stay. Would you rather stay or leave the room, Ciaran?”
Ciaran sat down slowly, giving Jennifer a warning look.
Jennifer smiled. “Yes, I’d rather you stay. Madeline, Ciaran loved his father—no, more precisely, he worshipped his father. Before you object, Ciaran, let’s say you loved your father very much. Is that better?”
No response from Ciaran.
“Yes or no, Ciaran?”
“Yes, I loved Father,” Ciaran snarled.
“So much so that your world seemed to stop when he died. So much so that you would not accept his death, although he died from natural causes. So much so that you immersed yourself in natural medicines, exotic pharmaceutical compounds, and any and all computer gimmicks that helped you to fantasize about bringing your father back.”
“No, Mother. That’s not true. We’re finished here, Madeline.”
Ciaran stood again, grabbing Madeline’s hand so that she would come with him.
“Did you or did you not create the computer character called White Knight?” Jennifer spat out the question.
“What?” Tadgh was astonished.
Madeline stared blankly at Jennifer, and then she turned around to observe Ciaran.
Jennifer continued, “You think your old mother knows nothing about what you do? You think you are in charge of the family, and I am living in oblivion in Dublin?”
“Create? So you are the White Knight?” Madeline asked, shocked.
“White Knight is a very critical and advanced program that could change the landscape of science, Madeline,” Ciaran said.
Madeline stared at him. “I don’t question your motives for creating such program. I am sure it will benefit humankind and more. But I am questioning your motives toward me. Did you arrange our coincidental meeting at Hyde Park?”
“No. I didn’t know you before that.”
“So did you know what I needed to do at our dinner?”
“Yes, but I only had general information. I didn’t know your intentions.”
“So that’s why you let me into your headquarters so easily. You wanted to scope me out!” Tears welled in Madeline’s eyes.
“Madeline!” Ciaran approached, “It’s not what it looks like.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were the White Knight, Ciaran?”
“I . . . I didn’t say I wasn’t.”
“It’s the same as a lie. And I lied to you, too. We can’t start a relationship based on lies. We aren’t meant to be together, are we?” Tears were streaming down Madeline’s face now.
“I would never tell a woman I worked with those programs. They’re violent games. If she didn’t know me, she’d think I was a serial killer,” Tadgh chimed in and received a scolding glare from Jennifer.
Madeline stood up and headed toward the door. Ciaran grabbed her arms. “You said you’d give us a chance, Madeline. We need time.” His voice was gentle but firm.
“Will you tell me everything? There can’t be any secrets between us—” Madeline said.
“Everyone has secrets they can’t share, no matter what,” Jennifer cut in.
“Mother!” Ciaran growled, turning toward Jennifer.
“Let me help you elaborate on that, Ciaran. Can you honestly say that your wife did not die because of one of your secrets, Ciaran?”
“Juliette didn’t die because of my secrets.” Ciaran’s voice quieted, but Jennifer could see the anger oozing from his pores. His eyes were red, and a vein on his forehead throbbed. She remained seated, staring at Ciaran while Tadgh stood.
“Perhaps not. Because she died for them. She robbed you of your heart, your life, and your secrets. She died for her greed,” Jennifer continued.
“Why would you say that, Mother? Why do you hate me?” Ciaran flew in Jennifer’s direction. Tadgh darted after him, but he was too slow. Ciaran punched the leg of a statue standing on a head-height column behind Jennifer. It cracked, crumbled, and collapsed to the floor. He braced his hands on the column, trying to suppress his anger.
Jennifer didn’t even blink. She didn’t need to look behind her to see Ciaran’s expression because she could read that on Madeline’s face. Madeline stepped back, tears rolling down her face. She turned around and headed toward the door.
Stephen entered the room just then and saw Madeline. He glanced at the scene before him and gently touched Madeline’s shoulders. “Madeline, what’s the matter?”
“I need to leave. Could you take me out of here, please?”
“You were attacked last night just outside this house. We have to be careful. We haven’t found Jo. We could use some help.”
“We found her. She got away yesterday and is with Detective Adamson. Please take me out of here. We can pick her up on the way.”
“On the way to where? The car was trashed last night. Could you calm down? Stay here for a bit, and we can sort things out?” Stephen spoke gently.
“I can arrange transportation for you right now, if that’s of any help.” Jennifer’s voice was as cold as steel.
“Lady LeBlanc, if you or your boys do anything to hurt Madeline, I will not let it slide,” Stephen growled.
Ciaran turned his gaze from the ruined statue and directed it toward Stephen. Tadgh inched forward. Jennifer knew the sight of her sons would intimidate the hell out of Stephen, so she remained silent.
“They didn’t hurt me or anything, Stephen.”
“So why the hell do you look like this?”
“I just need to leave. Right now.”
“Not until you tell me what happened. What did they do to make you cry?” Stephen threw a le
thal stare at Ciaran.
“Nothing happened. It’s my problem. Let’s go get Jo and head back to New York. I don’t belong here.”
Stephen shook his head and stiffened his stance.
Madeline huffed out a breath. “Stephen, if you want to stay and pick a fight, feel free to do so—it seems there’s enough testosterone in the room to do that—but I will leave here by myself.”
The cheery sound of Mrs. Rutherford humming a country song as she pushed her teacart echoed into the room.
“Madeline, please stay a bit longer. The people who attacked you last night might still be out there waiting. If anything happens, I don’t think I’m in any shape to help you.”
Mrs. Rutherford entered the room, the aroma of her famous scones with jam and freshly brewed jasmine tea filled the room. She stood at the door and noticed the tension in the room right away, saw Madeline’s tears.
“Morning tea, everyone.” Her voice trembled a bit and sank into an awkward silence.
“Madeline . . .” Ciaran approached.
“Stay the fuck right there, Ciaran,” Stephen yelled and stopped Ciaran in his tracks.
Madeline continued to head toward the door and had to step around the teacart.
“You, too! I said stay, Madeline!” Stephen growled.
Madeline took one more step and Stephen ran to her. He grabbed her shoulders violently and threw her back into the room. Madeline fell, rolling on the floor. Ciaran rushed to her, and Jennifer stood up from her chair.
Stephen grabbed Mrs. Rutherford, pulled out his gun, and pointed it at her head. “Stay still,” he commanded the room.
Everyone froze.
“Lady LeBlanc, may I ask for your permission to stay thirty minutes longer at your palace?” Stephen asked, a sarcastic smirk on his face.
Ciaran inched closer to Madeline.
“I said, stay still, Ciaran. Or I’ll put a bullet in her head.” Stephen pressed the gun against Mrs. Rutherford’s head.
“Stephen, what’s going on?” Madeline asked.
“I wouldn’t have had to do this if you’d behaved and done what I said. But you preferred to go about it the hard way.”