As we walked, I called Dad. “Harrison is definitely back in Kentucky. If you’ve got local agents who want to look for him, tell them to pull security footage of the third floor of the University of Kentucky Hospital. He was inside the closed stairwell by the main elevators in the… what building is this?” I looked on the wall beside the stairwell exit. “Building H. But he could be anywhere now.”
“Are you okay?” Dad asked.
“I’m fine. I’m pissed off, but I’m fine.”
Chapter 21
Brooke
Dimitri followed me through the lobby of my office building, past two FBI agents who lingered by one of the coffee stations. I lifted my chin in greeting as we passed.
Ty was already in the conference room. It was nearing six p.m., and the rest of our staff had left for the day. He had ordered dinner for the two of us and had wine waiting for me. It was our thing. Wine made us brainstorm better.
“Oh,” Ty said when we entered. “I didn’t know we were having guests.”
“It’s fine. Dimitri can have my food. I just want the wine.”
“I don’t want to—” Dimitri began.
I angled my head and stared him down.
He raised both hands. “Hey, who am I to argue? You don’t want to eat, then I see no sense letting it go to waste.”
“Any news from Agent Marshall?” I asked Ty.
“Yes. She said the shooter is claiming someone made her do it.”
“That’s what Sam overheard at the hospital. She wondered if it was some ‘God made me do it’ thing. What did Marshall make of it?”
“Marshall believes the shooter is most likely mentally ill.” Ty shrugged. “So you know how these situations go. She’ll be placed in a mental hospital, and the courts will go round and round about the case for years and years. How are things going on your investigation?”
“Well, I spent all morning and part of the afternoon looking through Mike’s case files. He’d made contact with a couple of people who knew Harrison in college—not the guys on Anya’s list, but other people. They both said Harrison liked to let people know that he was incredibly wealthy and already had a job lined up the minute he graduated. And that his father was well on his way to being the next Steve Jobs. Apparently he liked to fantasize about his father being a tech mogul and him taking over his father’s company some day.”
“Is any of that true?” Ty asked.
“No. His father died when Harrison was fourteen.”
“Ouch,” Dimitri said. “That’s a tough age for a kid to lose his father.”
“So Romeo wanted to be rich? That’s why he is the way he is?” Ty asked.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “He’s not exactly accumulating wealth doing what he’s doing. People who have unreasonable desires for riches, they embezzle, or rob banks, or… I don’t know. Find people like Declan O’Roark to marry.”
Dimitri and Ty cocked their heads at me.
“What? I don’t have an unreasonable desire to be rich; I’ve been wealthy all my life. And let me tell you, it didn’t make things gloriously easy.” I had still managed to lose a baby and become a widow extremely early in my adult life. And I was currently trying to take down a man who was stalking me in some weird desire to… be my happily ever after? What was that about?
I spent the next hour filling in Ty and Dimitri on everything I’d learned from Mike’s files, pulling documents from my semi-organized stacks as I went. We discussed the deaths of the three men on Anya’s list, and we talked about the note Marie had left for me.
“Who’s this?” Ty asked as he shoved his three-quarters-eaten sandwich to the side. We had gotten so caught up in the evidence Mike had collected that we hadn’t even opened the wine. Ty held out a photo of a pretty young brunette. He flipped it over and read, “Rhiana Callaway.” He looked up at me. “There’s a phone number.”
“Callaway,” I repeated. I took the picture and studied it. “This is Chris Callaway’s sister. She was a year behind us in school, but she was friends with a lot of people in our class. She was best friends with Madeline Gentry.”
“You’re losing me,” Ty said.
“Gentry. As in Mark Gentry. He’s number four on Anya’s list.”
“And Chris Callaway?”
“Actually, I think he preferred Christopher. He’s number six.”
“So why did Mike have a photo of Rhiana in here?”
“I’m not sure. Put that in the ‘to be followed up on’ pile.”
The more we sat there and discussed the evidence Mike had collected, the more frustrated we became. We had stacks of material related to Romeo and the people on Anya’s list, and stacks of notes that Mike had held back regarding the investigation that had gotten Teddy killed. I had no idea how the two very different piles of information were connected, or if they even were connected in any way other than…
“Me and Romeo.”
“What?” Dimitri said.
“The link between these two periods of time. The thread that connects this all is Romeo and me. I was working the case that Romeo got involved in. And I was present when these men got Romeo kicked out of school. And apparently I turned him down for some date. So he’s held a grudge.”
“Against everyone,” Ty said.
“No.” I shook my head. “Not everybody. Against those who have wronged him. The key to all of this is to figure out who wronged him the most. This can’t all be about him getting kicked out of UVA for an honor code violation.”
This also couldn’t be about an infatuation with me—or some delusion that he wanted to marry me. I wasn’t buying that.
I pushed back from the table. “Save the wine. I need a break.”
I had been listening to Romeo’s words inside my head on repeat. And the more I heard those words, the more I wanted to see Declan. I had a man who wanted to marry me—and not because he was infatuated with me or wanted to fix me, but because he loved me. His unconditional desire to make me happy was all a woman could ever ask for.
And I wanted to marry him. I didn’t care about his money or some big fancy wedding. I just wanted to be his wife—to get my second chance at happiness.
So why were we going to wait until June?
My mom acted like she couldn’t possibly plan a wedding in less than seven months, yet I couldn’t stop thinking that I—
“I can’t wait that long.”
“Huh?” Ty said. He and Dimitri were staring at me. They had been talking, and I hadn’t heard a single word of it.
“I have to go home. Romeo will just have to wait ’til tomorrow. I need time to think about all of this. I’m exhausted.”
“Okay…” Ty said.
Dimitri placed a hand on mine. “You good to drive?”
“I’m fine. I’m better than fine. You’re welcome to follow me back to Shaughnessy, but I…” I pushed away from the conference room table. “I have to go. I have something I need to do.”
I parked in front of the house. I would move my car to the garage later, or Declan or David would do it. I didn’t care.
It was early. Seven-thirty or so. I hadn’t even called Declan. He was aware that I had planned to work late with Ty, and that Dimitri was going to stick close in case Romeo showed his face. Again. I hadn’t even taken the time to call Declan and tell him that Romeo had approached me at the hospital. I wondered if Dimitri had.
It didn’t matter. None of that mattered.
I climbed out of my car, not even bothering to take anything with me, and burst through the front door.
Voices carried from the living room, and Declan appeared in the doorway. “Brooke! You’re home.”
“Hear me out.” I held my hands to my sides as if to steady myself. I was out of breath from the short jog from the car to the foyer, and from the excitement of what I wanted to say.
“Wait. We have—”
“Don’t you see? I can’t wait. I’m tired of waiting. Let’s not wait.”
“Br
ooke? Are you okay?”
I laughed. “I’m fine. Better than fine. I want to marry you.”
He furrowed his brows. “I know you do. I thought we decided that already.”
“Yes. But I don’t want to wait. I don’t want some high society wedding in Virginia. And I certainly don’t want to be another clichéd June bride. I want a wedding that says ‘Brooke and Declan.’ Right here. On this farm. I want our closest friends. I’ll wear a white dress if you want me to, but I don’t even care what we wear.” I threw my arms around him. “I just want to be Mrs. Declan O’Roark. I want to know that I’m coming home to this every night no matter what’s waiting for me out there. I want to know that you’re going to be beside me when I turn over every morning. I don’t want to wait.”
I kissed him on the lips. His fingers threaded through my hair, holding my head steady, and he kissed me back.
“Declan?” a female voice said behind Declan.
My eyes sprang open, and I stepped back out of Declan’s arms. In the doorway to the living room stood a tall, way-too-thin woman with long, dark red hair and a freckled nose.
Declan grabbed my hand. “Brooke, I want you to meet Claire Ryan.” There was strain in his voice.
I stepped forward and held out a hand. “Claire, it’s nice to meet you.”
She shook my hand, then spoke in a thick Irish accent. “You might not think so when you find out that you’re wearing the ring that was supposed to be mine.”
Darren O’Roark, Declan’s brother, stepped into the doorway behind Claire. I pulled my hand back and looked at Declan. Lines formed between his brows.
“Declan?”
“Why do you do this?” Declan asked Claire.
“You can’t blame her,” Darren said, then looked at me. “Hi, Brooke. Congrats on the engagement. Sorry I couldn’t make it to the party in Virginia.”
Claire laughed beside him. “Like hell. You’re not the slightest bit happy for them.”
I gave my head a little shake. “What is this, Declan?”
“I’m sorry. This is not how I imagined this would go.”
“How what would go?” I asked, confused. “Who is this woman?”
Claire crossed her arms and jutted out a hip. “This woman is Declan’s fiancée.”
I stared at this beautiful red-haired woman who looked like she was about to claw my eyes out. My heart made a slow but distinct leap into my throat.
“Stop it,” Declan ordered. “Darren, take her into the other room. I need a moment with Brooke.”
Claire smirked as Darren put an arm around her shoulders and led her back into the living room.
I looked up at Declan. “Who is she?”
“That’s Claire.”
“I heard her name, Declan. Who is she to you?” I didn’t even bother to lower my voice.
“That is a complication from my past that I hadn’t anticipated would come out this way.”
I crossed my arms. “A ‘complication’? Is that supposed to be an answer?”
“No, but it’s going to take time to fully explain who she is.”
“Okay then, let’s start with this: what did she mean when she said I was wearing her ring?”
Declan ran a hand through his hair. “That is also complicated to answer.”
The foyer began to spin. This wasn’t happening. Declan had always been honest with me. “You’ve never hidden things from me.”
“I haven’t been hiding anything from you. It’s not like you and I have told each other everything about our past.”
“Seriously? That’s how you want to play this?”
“I’m not ‘playing’ anything. I need to properly explain everything to you, but it’s all very—”
“Complicated. I heard you the first two times.” I slid Declan’s ring off of my finger.
“Don’t do this, Brooke. I just need some time to deal with Claire and my brother, and then I want to tell you everything.” He placed a hand on my cheek. “Go upstairs and soak in a hot tub. I’ll be up there soon, and I’ll tell you everything.”
I shrugged away from his touch. “No, Declan! A hot bath isn’t going to make this better.” I grabbed his hand, placed the ring in his palm, and forced his fingers to close around it. “You do what you need to do to uncomplicate whatever is going on in there and figure out whose ring that is. I have my own complications I need to take care of.”
I had come home thinking I was going to talk Declan into eloping or gathering our friends for a small impromptu wedding. I hadn’t wanted to wait for my mother to create some social spectacle, inviting hundreds of people I didn’t know and didn’t care to know. I had just wanted to be Declan’s wife. Romeo wouldn’t be able to threaten me with some psychotic desire to make me his once I was Mrs. O’Roark—at least, that’s what I told myself. And Declan would no longer be able to accuse me of using my determination to put Romeo away as an excuse not to marry him.
But now…
“Brooke,” Declan whispered. “Be reasonable.”
“I’m being as reasonable as I possibly can be right now.” I turned and headed for the stairs.
“Give me twenty minutes,” he said behind me. “I’ll be up, and I’ll explain everything.”
I took the steps two at a time. When I got to the top, I looked down at where he had been standing, but he had already disappeared into the living room.
And I could barely breath from the punch to the gut I’d just received.
Chapter 22
Declan
“Want to tell me how you got here?” I asked.
“Has living in the States made you thick in the head?” Claire said. “I got on a plane and flew here.”
I looked at Darren. “Did you know she was coming? You could have phoned and warned me.”
Claire gnawed on a cuticle. “I thought you would be delighted to see me. You’ve been away on business for so long. Surely you’d want us to be together.” She stepped to me and threw her arms around me. “Didn’t you miss me?”
I peeled her arms off of me. “You shouldn’t have come.”
“You don’t want me here?” Her voice took on a slight whimper.
“Your home is in Ireland.”
“It’s a nice home,” Darren chimed in.
I turned my glare on him. “That’s not helpful. Where the hell were you when she was managing to gather a passport and board an airplane to the United States?”
“Hey! She’s not my responsibility. She’s not yours either.”
“She is your responsibility. I pay you good money to take care of her when you’re at home. And since you haven’t been working for me here, you should be doing your job there.”
“Declan,” Darren said. “She belongs in a home or a hospital.”
“Are you taking your medication?” I asked Claire.
Her brow furrowed, and she blew the bangs off of her forehead. “I don’t like those drugs. They make me feel all… blah.” She stuck out her lower lip in a pout.
“Would you rather be in a home or a psychiatric hospital? Like Darren is suggesting?”
“No! I’ll kill myself if you send me to one of those!”
Darren rolled his eyes. Claire was notorious for being dramatic. She wasn’t suicidal, according to the very expensive therapists I’d paid over the years, just delusional. And unfortunately, I was the target of her delusions—as I had been for years.
By the time I got upstairs, I was exhausted. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do, but I knew Brooke would understand once I explained everything. She had to. Claire was alone in this world. Her family had deserted her years ago—disowned her after she’d made a single, life-changing bad decision. Darren and I were all she had now, and since I was the one with money, I vowed to provide for her as long as Darren shared the burden.
I opened the door to Brooke’s and my bedroom. I had already begun to see everything in our house as Brooke’s and mine. She was a part of me, and I wanted to share everything wit
h her. Just hearing her say she didn’t want to wait to marry me had made me the happiest man on earth. But despite all the wealth and happiness in our lives, we both had our share of complications. And some of my biggest burdens had walked through our front door earlier this evening.
The bed was made. Untouched. And the room was still and quiet. The chandelier overhead was dimmed. I walked quickly to the bathroom to see if Brooke had decided to soak in a hot tub after all, but there was no sign of her.
“Brooke,” I called, hoping she was just upstairs in the office above the master bedroom.
Nothing.
Checking the closet, I found her suitcase from the weekend on a luggage stand, still full of clothes. I was relieved that she hadn’t grabbed a handful of clothes and run.
I pulled out my phone and dialed her number. It went straight to voicemail. Brooke never turned off her phone, so I knew she had declined my call.
I sat on the edge of my bed and raked my hands across my face. This was bad. I stood again and paced. Where would she go?
I called Dimitri. “Is Brooke with you?”
“No. I followed her home. Isn’t she with you?”
I tightened my eyes. “No. She left. Claire is here.”
“Oh, shite,” Dimitri said softly. “Does Brooke know about Claire?”
“No. I hadn’t the chance to explain Claire yet.”
“Oh, shite,” Dimitri said again.
“Would you stop saying that?”
“Sorry, mate. What can I do?”
“Track her for me.”
“Declan, are you sure you want to do that? We promised her after the thing with the Russians that we wouldn’t unless we believed she was in serious trouble.”
“You’ve been following her all day. Can you honestly tell me you’re not worried about her being out there without any backup?”
“Oh, shite.”
“Stop saying—”
“No, I mean, I assume she didn’t tell you that Harrison was at the hospital today.”
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