“Och, ye are a wicked, wicked lass,” Siobhan said, feigning shock. “’Tis what makes us so alike, I’m thinkin’.” Then she grinned and winked. “But if he is anything like his grandfather, then aye, he is well-endowed indeed.”
Quinn gasped, even as she laughed. “’Tis the problem with those cursed denims,” Siobhan lamented sadly. “’Twas far easier to discover a mon’s secrets when they were proudly unencumbered beneath his kilt.”
The laughter of the two women echoed across the lake.
Chapter Five
As far as bars went, it was a decent enough place. Judging by the crowd, it catered to the low- to mid-range income, white-collar working class. Good folks who worked hard and wanted nothing more than a friendly face and a cold beer or two before heading out to whatever awaited them at home. Nothing fancy, but it was simple and clean. And fairly busy, too, for a weeknight.
Seth spotted Dave at the far side of the bar and, surprisingly enough, he was alone. He’d expected to find the younger man surrounded by pretty young coeds from the local university. Dave was one of those guys that women were naturally attracted to. Fairly tall, lean and well-built, with surfer-boy looks and a friendly smile to match. Seth tried to set aside his natural disgust.
He took the seat next to Dave and ordered a beer. He felt, rather than saw, Dave’s surprised glance.
“I don’t want any trouble,” Dave said quietly, staring at his beer.
“That makes two of us,” Seth said. “I was hoping maybe you would—”
Dave held up his hand to stop him. “Before you even ask, no, I don’t know where Quinn is.” He took a drink of his beer. He might have switched jobs months ago, but Seth had overheard enough to know that he did keep in touch with several of the guys he’d worked with. “And even if I did, I sure as hell wouldn’t tell you.”
“That obvious, huh?” Seth muttered. He didn’t expect an answer. He didn’t get one.
Cheers from the pool tables erupted behind them. Music played from the digital jukebox. A couple of girls in business casual danced in the corner with their margaritas.
“It’s not the same without her,” Seth said finally. “Nothing is. And no one will tell me a goddamn thing. Not even if she’s okay.”
“Do you blame them?” Dave asked, finally turning to look at Seth. “You made her life a living hell. Fuck, O’Rourke, you made her cry. Any number of us wanted to shoot you for that reason alone.”
There was nothing Seth could say to that, except agree to the truth of it.
It didn’t surprise him that Quinn had managed to inspire such loyalty and protectiveness in those around her. For as strong a front as she put up, there was always the sense of something fragile just beneath the surface. Something that made people want to stand in front of her and protect her, especially from the likes of an asshole like him.
“Why’d you do it, man?” Dave asked.
That was a much more difficult question. Seth wasn’t even sure he had an answer. He had some ideas—ideas that frankly scared the shit out of him—but he sure as hell wasn’t going to share those with Dave, or anyone else for that matter.
“I just need to know she’s okay. To see for myself. And to... apologize.”
DAVE LOOKED LONG AND hard at the man next to him. As skeptical as he was of Seth’s underlying motives, Seth looked different. Really different. It wasn’t the fact that he’d let his hair grow out past the military skull cap that had changed his appearance so much, nor that he was clean-shaven and wearing something other than gym shorts or sweats.
No, it was more significant than that. That huge chip on his shoulder was gone. Was it possible that Seth had rehabilitated more than his body? That perhaps Quinn had worked magic with more than his physical injuries? Dave wasn’t a religious man, but he’d seen Quinn do things that modern medicine couldn’t explain.
“Tell me something,” Dave said quietly. “You never filed charges against me for whaling on you that day. Why?”
Seth lifted the beer to his lips and took a long pull. “Because I deserved it. And because you were the only one with balls big enough to do it. Fuck, if the situations were reversed, I probably would have killed you and disposed of your mutilated body months ago.”
It didn’t make for a nice visual, but the words were heartfelt and genuine just the same. Dave could respect that.
Dave nodded. “I must be fucking crazy for even thinking about doing this,” he mumbled. “And before I do, you have to swear that you’re not going to hurt her. Your word, man. No bullshit.”
Dave sensed that if Seth gave his word, he would keep it. Half a dozen men owed their lives to the guy sitting next to him, and those were just the ones Dave knew through the rehabilitation center. Seth O’Rourke might be a bastard, but Dave had seen enough good men struggling through grievous injuries to know that the shit they had to deal with messed up the wiring sometimes. Wounded animals tended to lash out, and with what some of these guys had gone through, it was a wonder they retained any civility whatsoever. The guy next to him had single-handedly saved six men at great cost to himself. So yeah, maybe he could cut Seth a break.
Seth looked at him with barely guarded hope. “My word.”
“All right,” Dave said on an exhale. “It’s not much, mind you. Quinn is a very private person. But I do know that her last name is Brennan and one time, when she was working with an older guy, I overheard him say he knew her father from when he used to live in a place called Graystonville.”
“Graystonville?” Seth asked. The name rang a distant bell.
“Yeah, that’s what he said.”
Seth thanked him. Signaling to the bartender, he bought Dave another beer and added a shot. With any luck he could be packed and on the road within the hour.
For the first time in months, the beast stretched and yawned, flexing its claws.
GRAYSTONVILLE, IT TURNED out, was an old mining town in Northeastern Pennsylvania, known to local historians for its high concentration of Molly Maguires (a secret society of Irish mine workers who rebelled against poor conditions and unfair practices) back in the heyday of anthracite coal mining and railroad barons. Even today the remains of old breakers and black hills of slag and culm were visible beneath the lanky trunks of sturdy white birch.
It took a while to track down Quinn’s family. The area was still heavily populated with those of Irish descent, and trying to find someone with a surname of “Brennan” in Graystonville was akin to finding a needle in a haystack.
But Seth was on a mission, and when Seth was on a mission, the only possible outcome was success.
He began a methodical search, beginning at one end of the town and working his way through the pubs. Like most small town folk, they tended to be wary of outsiders, but Seth was able to work his magic. Having the last name of O’Rourke, a couple of great-uncles who’d worked in the mines a bit to the north, and the ability to drink copious amounts of beer and whiskey all played in his favor.
By the end of the afternoon, Seth had made some new friends. He also now knew exactly where he was going.
Seth pulled in front of the house at twilight and parked along the raised curb. It was old, like every other home around it. Tall and narrow, each floor the width of a single room, it was built into the side of a hill. What little paint remained on the front porch was peeling away, revealing the same dingy color of gray that seemed to permeate everything else in the depressed, forgotten town.
Seth had a hard time imagining Quinn growing up here. Everything about her was so soft and this place was so ... hard. Then again, maybe it was her absence that made everything seem so bleak. God knew, he could relate to that. Quinn had been like a ray of life-giving sunshine in his life when there had been nothing but cold and darkness. Too bad he’d been too fucking stupid to realize it at the time.
Now he was going to make it right.
A TV blared from within, broadcasting some sporting event as Seth made his way toward the house wi
th a heavy feeling of foreboding. There were secrets here. Secrets that would most likely change the way he thought about certain things, and suddenly he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Inside, the beast’s ears lowered and flattened against its head.
Fighting a growing sense of unease, Seth made his way to the front door. The steps creaked and groaned beneath his weight but held firm. The doorbell hung drunkenly by a wire from the outer frame, so Seth took a deep breath and then rapped his knuckles on the wooden screen door.
The low rumble of male voices preceded the tread of heavy feet growing closer across hardwood floors. The inner door opened, and Seth found himself face to face with a burly man tall enough to look him in the eye.
“Yeah?”
It only took a second or two for Seth to commit the man’s features to memory. He had the same honey-colored hair as Quinn, but his was shaved close to the scalp in an old-fashioned buzz cut. He had the same unique shade of gray eyes, too, except where Quinn’s were soft and kind, this guy’s were cold as granite. Beyond those two things, the similarity ended, but Seth knew without a doubt he was looking at Quinn’s brother.
“Is this Fergus Brennan’s place?” Seth asked, modulating his voice to the proper tone that both commanded and gave respect.
The man’s eyes narrowed. “Who wants to know?”
“Seth O’Rourke. I’m looking for Quinn Brennan.”
“Who is it, Johnny?” called a voice from farther back in the house.
Johnny leaned against the door frame and looked at Seth like someone might view a rattlesnake coiled up on the welcome mat. “Some guy’s looking for Quinn,” he called back without taking his eyes off of Seth.
His words were met with an abrupt halt to the conversations in the other room, followed by the sound of several pairs of heavy tread heading his way. Over Johnny’s shoulder, Seth was able to see three other men of similar size and build, all within a few years of each other in age, and one older man who could only be their father.
Fergus Brennan pushed his son out of the way and glared at Seth. It was hard to believe that his gentle Quinn came from the same stock when sheer malice radiated from these guys in tangible waves. The beast rose, alert and no longer uncertain.
“What’s she done now?” Fergus Brennan barked through the door, using the same kind of commanding tone that Seth often used himself when he was out for blood.
Seth bristled, but forced himself to remain calm. He needed information. He could always come back and kick their asses later if he needed to.
“She’s done nothing wrong,” Seth heard himself saying, surprised at the even tone of his voice. Inside he was raging and he didn’t even know why. “I’m hoping you can help me find her. May I come in? I’ll only take a few minutes of your time.”
One or two of them shifted behind Fergus, but not one of them spoke a word.
Fergus made no move to open the door, speaking through the dirty screen. “What’s she to you? She run away?” Seth caught Fergus’s pointed glance down at Seth’s left hand.
Jesus Christ, Seth thought. Didn’t he even know if his daughter was married or not?
The sick feeling in his gut deepened with every second he spent in their presence. How long had Quinn endured this?
“Nothing like that,” Seth said, though that wasn’t exactly true. Quinn had kind of run away, but not from the abusive husband Fergus obviously thought he was. The saddest part was, Fergus didn’t seem bothered by that at all. Quinn’s father’s eyes scanned the scars visible along his neck and arms.
“She helped me a while back, and I wanted to th—”.
The temperature dropped about ten degrees in a matter of seconds, and every one of them stiffened. If Seth thought Fergus’s eyes were hard before, they were now pure ice and venom.
“Get the fuck out of here,” he hissed, moving back to shut the door.
“Please,” Seth said through clenched teeth. It was against his nature to ask twice, but when it came to Quinn, he was finding there was little he would not do. “If you could just tell me where I might—”
“Don’t know, don’t care.” Those were Fergus’s final words before the door slammed in Seth’s face.
Seth stared at the door for a moment as he debated whether or not he should kick the fucker in and demand a more suitable response to his determinedly polite query. Then an image of Quinn appeared in his head, looking at him with those soft gray eyes and he knew instinctively she wouldn’t want him to do that. She wouldn’t want him here at all. And now he understood exactly why.
He turned on his heel and walked away, something he wouldn’t ever have considered doing a few months ago. That alone told him that Quinn had somehow gotten deep inside him and changed him.
It made it all the more imperative that he find her.
Chapter Six
Seth went back to one of the bars he’d visited earlier to grab a plate of something deep-fried and greasy while he considered his options. His beast purred happily as he sank his teeth into the two-handed sandwich and nearly groaned in ecstasy. Either they hadn’t heard the fried-food-is-bad-for-you thing or they had and just didn’t give a shit.
That was the thing, he realized. Life was all about choices, the good and the bad.
Until recently, he hadn’t worried too much about making bad choices. He’d done what was right for him, and consequently, his life had been a series of missions, tasks suited to his superior skill and strength. Fighting. Protecting. Winning.
All that had changed with that last mission. Even if he could regain most of his strength, he wasn’t sure he could go back to that. It was no longer enough. He wanted something more. Something he couldn’t readily identify. What he did know was, whatever that something might be, it had begun the moment Quinn Brennan walked into his life.
“No luck, eh, son?” An older man in his mid- to late sixties sidled up to Seth and sat down without waiting for an invitation. He lifted up his hand to signal for a couple of beers.
Seth shook his head, taking another bite of what he thought might have been a burger as grease dripped down over his fingers. Whatever it was, it was delicious.
“Could’ve told you you were wasting your time.”
Seth chewed and swiped his mouth with the extra napkins that came with the meal. “Yeah? Why didn’t you?”
The old man chuckled. “Because I would’ve been wasting my breath. Some things a man needs to see for himself before he’ll believe ‘em.”
Amen to that, Seth thought, thinking of Quinn’s family.
“Fergus Brennan is as mean as a snake,” the man said, earning a muttered agreement from the woman who brought over two fresh, frosty bottles. “Bet he near ripped your throat out at mention of the girl’s name, eh?”
It was something Seth could not wrap his mind around – the fact that a father could harbor so much ill will towards his daughter. Especially when that daughter was Quinn. “Why is that?”
The old man’s eyes flicked toward the door. “I think Danny might be a better one to tell you about that.”
Seth looked up and saw one of Quinn’s brothers making his way toward them.
“Good luck to you, son,” the older man said as he got up and walked away with a nod to Quinn’s brother.
“Hey.” The newcomer shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “Mind if I join you?”
Seth eyed him carefully. He looked like the others, but he didn’t have the same cruelty in his features they’d had. That didn’t mean Seth was going to put up with any shit from him. “That depends on if you want to walk out of here or be carried out.”
The guy considered him for a moment, then nodded. “Fair enough. I’m Danny Brennan.” Sliding out a chair with the tip of his steel-toed work boot, he sat down across from Seth and signaled toward the bar. He must have been a regular, because the server appeared moments later with a bottle of Jack Daniels and a glass.
“How do you know Quinn?” he asked.
“She
was my physical therapist,” Seth said simply.
“Why is it important that you find her?”
Seth was getting irritated with Danny’s questions, especially since he had quite a few of his own. However, he also knew that the man sitting before him was his best chance of locating Quinn.
“Because she helped me, and I want to thank her.”
Danny nodded as if that was the answer he’d expected and poured himself a few fingers of the Jack. He drank it down, repeating the gesture twice more before he spoke again. “If you’re serious about finding Quinn, try heading north to a little town called Erehwon.”
Wiping his mouth, Seth pushed his now-empty plate away and dropped the saturated napkin on top.
“What’s in Erehwon?” he asked. It didn’t really matter. If there was even the slightest chance that’s where Quinn was, that’s where he’d be, too. He sensed he was being given a rare opportunity to glean information, though, so he would make the most of it.
“My grandmother,” Danny answered. He took his time saying his next words, watching Seth’s reaction carefully. “She’s a healer.”
Seth’s expression remained interested but little else. Leaning forward, Danny lowered his voice and added, “Not the kind with a medical degree.”
“What are you telling me? That your grandmother is a witch?”
Danny winced. “Keep your voice down,” he warned. “And yes. Well, not a witch exactly, but close enough to make a lot of God-fearing Irish Catholics pretty damn uncomfortable, feel me?”
Seth felt the first tendrils of comprehension coursing through his mind, along with tactile remembrances of how it had felt when Quinn touched him. Until now, he’d thought the tingles and warmth stemmed from his feelings for her, but what if they hadn’t? What if it was something more, something he’d never considered?
“What does that have to do with Quinn?” he asked carefully.
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