The Reckoning (The O'Neils Book 6)

by Kathryn Shay

  “Come with me and Ben.”

  His gaze snapped up. “What? Why on earth would I do that?”

  She ignored his question. “Don’t wear a suit. Wear something green. Casual.”

  “I’m not going with you, Jamie.”

  “Jeans if you have them.”

  “Of course I have them.”

  “Cool, I bet you look terrific in them.”

  “Flattery doesn’t work on me.”

  “Be at my house by 10 o’clock, and wear boots because we’ll walk from there. If you aren’t on time, we’ll have to meet you at the pub.” She stepped away, said, “Goodbye, Mr. Moran,” and walked out, leaving him open-mouthed.

  Kinley rang the doorbell of Jamie’s home at 9:30. Keeping his heart rate even and pulse steady took concentration.

  She answered. Her face lit when she saw him. “Hi.” She was…sexy in tan jeans and a green long-sleeved shirt with lacy arms. Her feet were covered in cowboy boots. “I’m so glad you came.” She took his hand and squeezed it.

  “Hi.” He nodded to her shoes. “You’re working in those?”

  “No, I’ll change before I go back tonight. I’m enjoying the celebration with my son. And now you.”

  From behind her, Ben called, “Mo-om,” and appeared at the door. “Can we go now?”

  “Yes, honey. Say hello to Mr. Moran first.”

  Ben greeted him with Jamie’s smile. Kinley smiled back.

  After saying goodbye to her grandmother, and bundling up, they walked out to the street. Ben skipped ahead of them, kicking the snow.

  She put her hands in her dark pink jacket with a furry hood. “Want to tell me why you came?”

  “I honestly don’t know. I woke up to a yes, go in my head. I hope I don’t cause a commotion.”

  “We’ll keep a low profile.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  There was a line to get into the front door, but Jamie steered them down the driveway to the kitchen entrance. He followed her in. “Jamie, me girl,” Liam greeted her. Then he noticed her company.

  And his face transformed. Pure joy emanated from him. Kinley had waited all his life for a brother to look at him like that. Liam strode over and hugged Kinley. “I’m so glad you’re here. I encouraged Jamie to bring you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re our brother.”

  Ben tugged on Jamie’s shirt. “I wanna go to the kids’ room.”

  “Okay, but I’ll bring you there. You have to go through a crowd.”

  Bolder-like lumps had formed in his throat at Liam’s welcome, so Kinley mumbled his thanks and followed Jamie again to the pub. When she opened the kitchen door, they were greeted by a cacophony of celebration. “Danny Boy” emanated around the room and when he got further in, he saw Paddy O’Neil and his wife sitting on the piano bench. Mary Kate played and the two of them lead the song, which had spread through the patrons.

  Mitch Calloway stood at the entrance to the kids’ area. “So, you got guard duty again for the kids?” Jamie said to him, squeezing his arm.

  “Yeah, mostly because of Rory. At least he and Mikey are older.”

  Kinley remembered then that he was among American Royalty. The former president and his kids were members of the O’Neil clan. That he, Kinley, was not, galled him.

  “Kinley, is that you?”

  He turned to find Bailey behind him.

  “What a pleasant surprise.” She hugged him, too.

  “Why is that?

  “I already told you, you’re family. I hear you were checking out Guardian.”

  “Um…”

  “It’s okay if you couldn’t come in the first time. Were you remembering your gang days?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “Another volunteer, John Battaglia, the renowned heart surgeon, told me he did, too. I’m sorry if it brought back memories.”

  “I still don’t think—”

  “Hush, you’ll join us. Eventually.”

  Jamie ducked into the kids’ room just as another person came up to them. “Hey, there.”

  “Hello, dear.”

  He handed his wife a beer. Then one to Kinley. “Welcome.”

  Accepting the brew, he said, “Thank you, Mr. President.”

  “It’s Clay. We’re family.”

  “So everybody keeps saying. I guess I don’t know why.”

  Ignoring his comment, Clay glanced around the space. “What do you think?”

  “That St. Patrick’s Day is going to rake in money.”

  Bailey chuckled. “Don’t bet on it. Starting at ten, beer is ten cents a glass. After that it goes up five cents every hour.”

  He looked down at his glass. “I don’t think I’ve ever had green beer before.”

  “Only one keg worth. Then we go back to regular.”

  “I don’t understand the financial decisions made for this place.”

  Bailey sipped her beer before answering. “You will, Kinley. Eventually. You’ll understand everything about our pub.”

  Pat and Dylan sat closeted in the office both with brews.

  Dylan ignored that he was ingesting green beer and took a sip. “I can’t believe Jamie brought the fucker.”

  “What was she thinking?”

  “I still don’t understand how a woman’s mind works. Rachel’s mad at me because I didn’t rush right over and accept his olive branch.”

  “Olive branch my foot. He’s plotting something.”

  “No, he’s not.”

  Dylan saw Jamie in the doorway. Dylan quipped, “There’s Benedict Arnold.”

  “Thanks a lot, Dylan. If you weren’t so pathetic hiding out in here, I’d say something nasty to you.”

  “We’re your bosses, girl.” This from Pat. “Watch your tongue.”

  “Now you don’t want to hear from me! You’re always asking me for advice on how to get out of a tiff with your wives.”

  Pat lost his bluster. “Sit then, lass. Tell us why you invited him. Did he weasel a date with you?”

  “This isn’t a date. I feel bad for Kinley. Even now, in this mess, you’ve got each other and he’s alone. I offered him company, is all.”

  Dylan slammed his glass onto the desk. “He created this mess. He wants to be alone in it. Everything he did assured that.”

  Jamie shrugged. “So far, you’re 3-2. Bailey and Liam already welcomed him with open arms today. And Aidan’s warmed up to him.”

  Pat scowled. “They’re the softest. Aidan’s still a baby about everything, Liam is just good, but Bailey loved Moira. So, she wants to help Kinley.”

  “She should be helping us deal with his bullying.” Dylan again.

  “I’m sorry you feel that way.” To Pat, she said, “You too. You…disappoint me.”

  Kinley was seated at a table with Clay and Bailey, talking about business, when four women appeared. One was more beautiful than the next. And he knew exactly who they were.

  “Okay Clay, beat it,” the one with startling green eyes said. “This is girl time.”

  Clay stood abruptly. “See you later.”

  He left and all four women sat. Combined with Bailey they were downright scary, so he kept his mouth shut.

  “I’m Brie, so Patrick’s mine. He can be a stubborn jerk sometimes but basically, he’s a good guy. I’m working on him in this situation, but I need your help.”

  “I—”

  “No, it’s listening time.” Rachel, with the auburn hair that the camera loved, was a reporter. “I know you, Mr. Moran. I did a feature on you once. I’m sure you don’t remember.”

  He did now. He’d been on her show about young entrepreneurs.

  She added, “We’re a happy family, and though we got that Camelot thing going for us, we’ve had our share of problems. We deserve happiness, and so do you. Join us instead of fighting.”

  Sophie, Liam’s strawberry blond firefighter, spoke up. “I won’t let you hurt my husband or my family. I might not seem it, but I’m to
ugh!”

  And C.J., the lovely blond who’d snagged Aidan, snorted at Kinley. “I’m a federal agent and I could do damage to you.”

  “For—”

  “Shut up. But I’d rather not. Just know, if you keep all this up, the five of us will take you down, one way or another.”

  “Don’t include me in that.” This from Bailey. “I want him in my life.”

  C.J. glanced at the others. “Ready, ladies?”

  They all stood at once, even Bailey who squeezed his arm. Soon they disappeared into the crowd.

  Jamie returned. “You okay? I saw what happened.”

  “I’m fine.” But he wasn’t. The wives had disconcerted him. They were accusing him of wrongdoing? Paddy O’Neil chose his four legal boys over him. Had they any idea how he felt?

  Her son tugged on her sleeve.

  “Ben needs to eat.”

  “Go ahead. I’m leaving.”

  “Oh, Kinley, not yet.”

  “This was a mistake. It’s not your fault. It’s mine for showing up. Goodbye, Jamie. Ben.”

  He grabbed his coat from the chair and walked outside. Cold air embraced him. He didn’t need it. He was already frigid inside.

  Chapter 5

  * * *

  Jamie hadn’t seen Kinley since St. Patrick’s Day, and when she entered the building that housed his offices a full week later, she hoped he’d come in today.

  Last Tuesday, when she worked, she found Nigel in Kinley’s office, at his computer…

  “Nigel, what are you doing in here?”

  A quick, odd expression, then his face blanked. “Mr. Moran called me last night and wanted some files for his trip to California.”

  Huh! He went thousands of miles to get away from his problems. She never figured him as a runner.

  “I could have done it.”

  Not bothering to look at her, he said, “You don’t have level one security clearance.”

  She propped her hands on her hips. “How do you know that?”

  “As Mr. Moran’s right-hand man, I know all kinds of things.”

  Right-hand man would never have been how she’d describe him. “All right.” She waited.

  “Is there something else?”

  “How’s his trip going?”

  “I have no idea.”

  He would have told me. If he was speaking to me. But obviously he wasn’t. And she knew why. The O’Neils had over-whelmed him. She’d made a huge mistake encouraging him to go the St. Patrick’s Day party. What had she been thinking?

  That she could bring some peace to both sides…

  Shoving aside the notion, she arrived at the penthouse floor and knew instantly that Kinley was back. Something about the scent that lingered in the air and the feel of the space. She poured coffee and knocked on his door. Over the intercom, she heard a “Come in,” and he pressed the button to open the door.

  Jamie walked into the inner sanctum. The space had been dim while he was away, but his appearance brightened up the entire room. He glanced over from the ell that shaped his desk. “Hello, Jamie. Thanks for the coffee. Set it right there. Thank you.”

  Eyes back on the computer.

  “Could I sit a minute?”

  “I’m busy.”

  She sat anyway. Finally, he swiveled around. “What can I do for you?”

  “I didn’t know you were going on a trip all week.”

  “Oh.” He arched a brow. “I didn’t know I had to run business decisions by you.”

  She refused to take the bait though the criticism stung. “Of course, you don’t. Was it productive?”

  “Yes.”

  “I think you’re avoiding me. I think you’re mad at me and the O’Neils.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “I haven’t spoken to you in a week.”

  Now his brows rose in pretended innocence. “I was away.”

  She came to the edge of her seat. “Did the O’Neil wives upset you? I know they didn’t mean to. Or were the guys horrible to you?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, you do. I could see how upset you were when you left the pub that day.”

  “You misread the situation.”

  She stood. Smoothed down her skirt. “If you’d like to rescind your job offer, I’ll pack up right now.”

  “No, I wouldn’t. You signed a contract.”

  “I’m not sure I want to work like this, with you treating me like a pariah.”

  “Being treated like a pariah doesn’t feel good, does it, Jamie?”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Go back to work.”

  She strode out of the office and closed the door. Leaned against it. Tears threatened. Now why the hell was that? People had treated her worse. Jamie’s father who’d sloughed off her grip on him and told her he loved another family now. Ben’s married-professor father who’d outright rejected her when she told him she was pregnant. Being turned down for job after job when she was trying to support Ben by herself. Those were real traumas.

  Remembering them, she got to work transcribing Kinley’s notes from his trip. She was into the mesmerizing sound of his voice when someone came out of the elevator. She looked up.

  A modern-day Helen of Troy stood before her. And she seemed familiar with red hair, flowing down her back, dark-as-night eyes and a body that clothes were made for. She dressed in haute couture.

  “Hello, there. You’re new.”

  So are you. “Yes, ma’am. I’m Jamie Ralston. Linda’s on maternity leave.”

  “I’m here to see Kinley.”

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  Her laugh was sultry. “Let him know Blandine is here.”

  “Blandine who?”

  “Just Blandine.”

  She pressed the button on her phone. He barked hello. She gave him the message. He came out of the office in record time. His face bloomed with a sexy smile. “Blandine, darling, you’re back.”

  “I am.” She crossed to him and looped her arms around his neck. His hands went to her ass. She pressed herself to him and gave him a big juicy French kiss, befitting the name Blandine.

  He kissed her back.

  Jamie had to turn away.

  Kinley laid back on the satin-covered pillow and pulled up the covers. Hands behind his head, he stared blindly at the ceiling of Blandine’s bedroom where they’d come for lunch. And other things.

  Next to him, Blandine crooked her arm and put her head on her hand. Her hair was tousled and her eyes slumberous. “What was that all about, Kinley?”

  Best to take the offensive. He turned on his side. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You came twice.”

  “That’s not what I mean.” Pretty auburn brows furrowed. He noticed then her makeup wasn’t even messed up. “You didn’t climax for a long time.”

  “You weren’t complaining.”

  “I’m being solicitous. I think you had something else on your mind. Usually when I get back, you’re…eager to make love.”

  Now that was true. It was also true that he hadn’t felt that acute desire this time. He didn’t even remember when she was returning to the states.

  “I have a lot going on in my life, Blandine. I just got back from a long business trip and there’s some other issues I have to deal with.”

  “Do you want to talk about them?”

  He laughed, leaned over and kissed her briefly. “Now that definitely isn’t us.” Their relationship was uncomplicated, mostly because they didn’t share their problems. He wondered if Blandine had any problems. “Shall we order some lunch?”

  “Yes, you know what I eat. Call it in. I’m going to rest a bit.”

  He phoned down to the kitchen of the hotel where she was staying. “We’ll have one order of salmon grilled, no butter or oil, with steamed broccoli. Another order of filet, rare, Caesar salad.” Jamie’s favorite.

  He pushed her out of his mind. Again.


  I have a lot on my mind. He hoped he hadn’t meant her.

  He jumped in the shower while they waited for food, dressed in the clothes he had on in the morning and sat down at the table with her. She was checking her phone. He sighed and started to eat.

  Forty-five minutes later, at two-fifteen, Kinley walked into work prepared to face Jamie. On the elevator ride, his heart sped up. Oh, sure, now he was having an immediate reaction.

  She wasn’t at her desk. He went into his office. She wasn’t there. Well, she was entitled to lunch or a break. When she hadn’t shown up by three, he checked his emails. One read, “Kinley, I’ve had a sudden bout of nausea, and have to leave early. You can dock my pay. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

  Nausea. Pregnant women got nauseous. Could Jamie be pregnant? And why did the thought bother him so much?

  At least Jamie hadn’t lied. She laid on her couch, her hand over her eyes and stretched out her legs. She turned no lights on so she rested in semi-darkness. Or tried to rest. Her queasy stomach continued.

  Why had she gotten ill so suddenly?

  Blandine.

  No, that couldn’t be true. Why would she be jealous of the woman? Sure, she’d researched her online and found that Kinley was dating a super-model. There were pictures of them together. She hadn’t known he had a girlfriend. He’d spent time with Jamie recently, because Blandine had been out of the country.

  Okay, Jamie. Pull yourself out of this. What did you think was happening? It’s laughable to think a forty-three-year-old billionaire cared about a poor, almost thirty-year-old single mother.

  Sure, she wondered at first if he was using her to get to the O’Neils. But then he’d do things like make her get in the car with him because it was too cold to be walking. Pick her up and bring her to her bedroom when she was too weak to get there on her own. Given her a second job at an obscene income.

  Hell, what did it matter? There could never be—the doorbell rang. It was probably a solicitor. She ignored the interruption, though she couldn’t remember if she’d locked up or not. Turning to her side, she closed her eyes. Then she heard the door open, so she rolled over. Before she could even sit up, a figure appeared at the couch.