Hard Irish

by Jennifer Saints

  “Deal,” she said, holding back a laugh. She had no doubt that he was a great guy, but someday she’d make sure he amended his assessment of himself in the bedroom. He wasn’t just good. He was great. Amazing. Addictive. And she didn’t need to sleep around to figure that out.

  There was difference between Jared and Collin when it came to sex. Collin enjoyed sex. He wasn’t bad at it, but his focus in the bedroom had been getting off. Where Jared’s focus and sexual energy were in getting her off. Being the center of that charismatic attention was the most seductive thing in the world. A real turn on.

  He took her to a seafood restaurant on the Savannah River and she ordered creamy clam chowder along with a shrimp salad. Exactly what her stomach could handle at the moment. They sat in the outside dining area where the breeze flowed in tandem with the river. Spanish moss swayed in the live oaks lining the water and pelicans provided a show as they fought over a fish and pier-sitting rights on the dock. He didn’t talk about any of the day’s harrowing events. He told her stories about the exploits he and his brother’s had while growing up and made her laugh.

  “Being older, Jesse and Jackson were naturally doing forbidden things that only older boys should do, like jumping and racing dirt bikes and rafting down the river. James and I were fit to be tied that they wouldn’t let us join them. So we’d threaten to tattle on them and pestered them until they let us. Invariably, something would go wrong, James or I would get hurt and then Jackson and Jesse would get their hides tanned, not only for doing what they weren’t supposed to be doing but for letting us do it too. They couldn’t win for losing. Guess they decided that they’d rather have the fun and get a whooping than not have the fun at all.”

  Touched by his sharing, she smiled. There was an appealing, heart-warm honesty about Jared. Whether he’d admit it or not, family meant a lot to him. “I’m sure having brothers had its downside, but to me it sounds like heaven.”

  The meal was over too soon, but the time had been quiet, peaceful, and relaxing—just what she needed after everything that had happened this morning. They left the restaurant and ten minutes later, pulled into the parking area for the Drake Hotel. Besides the construction equipment and office trailers, there were two trucks in the parking lot—one newer and black the other worn and blue.

  “I wonder who’s here.”

  “The blue truck is...mine,” Jared said, and shrugged, almost hesitantly as if embarrassed. “A lot of memories are wrapped up in her tail-gate. James and I shared it during high school and college.

  Rocky rolled her eyes. She could just imagine what all went on in the back of that pick up. She exited her truck. “Maybe one of the other men left their truck here, too,” she said as Jared joined her.

  They walked toward the Drake Hotel and she sighed beneath a wave of flooding sadness. “I can’t believe Uncle Pat is gone.”

  Jared clasped her hand. There really anything that could be said.

  “Once I had the site set up I had planned to look for more men. Pat was going to take charge of one crew and I was going to run the other. I won the bid on this because I promised to complete the job in four weeks and there was no way it would happen with just my men.”

  Jared stumbled and she steadied him.

  “You all right?” She kept forgetting that he wore a boot. That he’d been injured. He really hadn’t complained at all.

  “Yeah. Uh, just missed my step.

  “Your leg hurt?”

  “Not much now. It was a bitch yesterday, but better today.”

  “Good. I feel response—” She sniffed the air. “Do you smell smoke?”

  “Yes.”

  Rocky started to run forward, but Jared grabbed her arm. “Stay behind me,” he ordered.

  She backed up a step, surprised to see the pistol in his hand. “You’re not going to put a fire out with that.”

  “Until we find out what is going on, just stay behind me. And let’s hurry. Those Byzantine mosaics are irreplaceable.” He ran ahead and she followed, surprised he was even aware of the hotel’s artistry and its imported glass tiles.

  The front doors were locked. Jared turned right, hurrying. They were both looking for signs of a fire inside as they passed each window. They reached the planter that had dive-bombed her and kept moving, its broken cement, spilt dirt, and uprooted forget-me-nots were a grim reminder of what almost happened.

  At the back of the hotel, smoke billowed from a set of French doors.

  “Call 911,” Jared said as he ran faster, despite the hobbling boot.

  She pulled out her cell and called as she kept up with Jared. The French doors were open. He moved through the opening and she grabbed the waistband of his jeans. She wasn’t about to lose him in the smoke. One step inside, she smelled gasoline and alarm bells went off. This fire was deliberate and they were going in blind. Jared must have smelled it too. He stopped and moved backward, but fear that he would charge ahead already had her pulling on him with all of her strength. Off balance, they stumbled back, slamming into the door behind them. The door fell open. Tangled up in each other, they grappled for balance but lost and hit the ground. Her on bottom. Jared on top. The door swung shut.

  She gasped for air. He shifted, easing some of his weight off of her.

  “Did you smell the gas?”

  “Yeah,” he said grimly. “This fire is deliberate.”

  Suddenly a fireball burst from the doorway they’d just been standing in, as an explosion blew the French doors open. Broken glass and searing heat blasted over them. Jared covered her with himself. Once the fire-flash was over, the scent of scorched clothes and hair lingered.

  “God, that was close,” she whispered. Shocked.

  “Too damned close,” he said harshly. “Some bodyguard. I almost got you killed.”

  Emergency sirens blared louder and louder.

  “No you didn’t. In fact we might be able to rule out someone being after me.”

  Jared lifted himself off her. He looked at the damage to the hotel and the billowing black smoke then glared at her. “How in the hell can you say that?”

  She sat up. The blast had been pretty significant. Had they been on the threshold or even next to the doors they would have been killed, or seriously injured. She shivered, but took heart. “Don’t you see? Nobody but you and I knew we were coming here and we’d only decided that and hour and a half ago. It could be that someone is sabotaging the job and I just happened to get in the way.”

  “Twice?”

  Rocky shrugged. “You didn’t tell anyone we were stopping here, right?”

  “No.” Jared stood, his gaze scanning the area around them, gun still in hand.

  “Neither did I.” The fire truck and ambulance peeled into the parking lot then plowed into the grass, driving along side of the hotel. At least at this point they weren’t destroying the gardens.

  He slipped the gun into the back of his jeans. “I don’t know. I’m still not buying the coincidence angle.”

  The rescue teams converged on them and they didn’t have more time for discussion.

  Two EMT reached them first. “Are you hurt?”

  Firemen with hoses moved passed and started spraying into the hotel through the doorway.

  “No, I’m fine.” Rocky said as she winced at the destruction of the surrounding flower beds.

  “Check her out anyway,” Jared said.

  “Him, too,” Rocky scowled at him. “The blast hit us both.”

  One of the firemen turned and yelled. “Anyone inside?”

  Rocky started to say no, but then realized there could be. “The person who started the fire, maybe?”

  The fireman ran closer, pulling out a radio. “Any idea where? I’ve got men going in through the front, searching.”

  Rocky shook her head. “I don’t know. I was just guessing.”

  “There’s a black truck in the parking lot and we don’t know who it belongs to,” Jared explained. “Hers is red and mine is blue
.”

  “There are only the red and blue ones out there, right, Dan?” The fireman looked at the EMT taking care of Rocky.

  “That’s all I saw,” the man said.

  “It was here when we arrived,” Jared told them.

  The fireman turned back to his crew. “Possible victim inside,” he said into the radio then told the others beside him.

  The EMT urged them back. “Let’s move over here. After I check you both out, we can talk.”

  Ten minutes later, just as the EMT finished, the firemen carried a man from the hotel. With blood, soot, and an oxygen mask covering his face, she couldn’t tell who it was. She and Jared followed the EMT over to where the firemen were laying the man down.

  The EMT called for a stretcher as he set to work. The man had his eyes shut and was coughing. He tried to talk. “Call...my boss. Call Mack. Someone attacked me. Set the fire.”

  “Riley?” Rocky leaned forward, finally able to recognized the man.

  Riley opened his eyes. “Boss Lady? Why are you here?”

  “Who?” Jared demanded, stepping to Rocky’s side. “Who attacked you?”

  Riley shook his head and moaned. “Don’t know. A man. Tall. Dark hair. Like you. He came out of the shadows like a ghost.”

  Rocky saw Jared shudder and clench his fists. She didn’t know what was running through his mind, but she was sure Riley was only saying that whoever attacked him was tall like Jared and had black as sin hair. And of course there were no head-busting, fire-setting ghosts rambling around the hotel.

  Dealing with the emergency responders, the police, and the hotel’s owner via telephone was no picnic. Tiffany Parker-Bentley was currently in New York and immediately accused McKenna construction of being negligent, blaming them for the damages. Riley went by ambulance to the hospital to check for a concussion and smoke inhalation. Whoever attacked him had hit him on the head, leaving a gash just above his right temple.

  Before Rocky could call Mack to let him know, Maggie called. Rocky answered the phone, harried.

  “Hey, luv. You okay? I called earlier and left a message.”

  “I’m still reeling from Pat’s death and now someone has set the Drake Hotel on fire. Riley was hurt. He is on his way to the hospital.”

  “What happened?”

  “Not sure. We are still trying to sort things out.”

  “I’ll be right over.”

  “No. If anything you can go to the hospital to be with Riley. He has a nasty bump on his head. I’ll call Mack.”

  “I’ll do that. First Pat, now Riley. Who was it? Who attacked him? How badly is he hurt?”

  Rocky frowned; she hadn’t meant to reveal someone had tried to kill Riley. The police had asked them not to say anything to the press. “Don’t tell anyone, Maggie. Until the police have a chance to investigate. But no, Riley couldn’t identify his attacker. He’s going to be okay, though. I’ll call you later.” She hung up.

  Jared touched her shoulder. “That frown tells me you’re thinking what I’m thinking. If someone attacked Mack and left him to burn, it is possible that person could be afraid Mack might identify them.”

  She gasped. “You’re right. We should tell the police.”

  Jared shook his head. “Let’s leave it to Jesse rather than police red tape. I’ll call him.”

  “And I’ll call Mack.” He answered, sounding out of breath and harried. She told him about the fire.

  “What in the hell is going on?” he asked.

  She hesitated a moment, wondering if she should tell him about the hatbox her mother left and that she might not know who her mother is then changed her mind. The planter, the attack on Riley, and the fire might not be related to her mother and Uncle Pat’s death—she couldn’t quite say suicide or murder. “I don’t know. Someone could be trying to sabotage the job. Did you send Riley over here?”

  “Not specifically. When I called him this morning, I mentioned that we might need some of the crew who lived closer to the Drake Hotel to run by the place. There were material deliveries scheduled today and we were having trouble contacting the companies. He said he could. But I didn’t call back and tell him to go over there as Maggie said she would go if needed.”

  “Right.” Rocky exhaled. With everything going on, she’d forgotten about the deliveries. She had better have her act together by tomorrow. If the Drake job went south, if the owner sued them, it could put McKenna Construction under. She shivered.

  “How’s Collin taking his father’s death?”

  Mack was silent a moment too long. “Not well. Pat was taken to the morgue for an autopsy. I brought Collin to the office ’cause I didn’t want to leave him alone and there were things that needed to be done. It was a mistake. After about twenty minutes, he lost it completely. Was yelling and rambling around, and throwing things. He...said it was...damn it Rocky...there is no truth to this but you have to know. He said it was your fault that his father killed himself. He made a mess of the Rainbow Room. I tried to calm him, tried to stop him, but finally had to call the cops. Collin left before they arrived and I haven’t been able to get in touch with him since.”

  Rocky sucked in air, her heart pounding and her knees giving out. She sat down where she stood. For Collin to blame her cut deep. Jared, who was just a few feet away, ran over to her. She fought for balance.

  “I hate to say this,” Mack said. “But could Collin have torched the Drake place?”

  “Christ, Mack. His truck is black.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  Rocky explained.

  “Out of about twenty-five men on the crew, I’d say eight to ten of them have a black truck. Riley’s truck is dark, maybe black even. What’s the make and model of the truck you saw?”

  “I didn’t notice. You say Riley has a black truck?”

  “Maybe. It’s dark in color, can’t swear to it though.”

  “Okay. Let me know if you hear from, Collin.” Rocky hung up, her heart heavy. Jared was kneeling next to her, concerned. She told him about Collin’s behavior at the office. “He has a black truck, but Mack said Riley does too. Collin would fit the tall, dark-haired description Riley gave, though. I should tell the police.”

  “Yes, you should. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but a number of men fit the tall, dark-haired description—me, and my brothers included. The black truck situation is a puzzle though. Everything was so crazy with Riley going to the hospital and the firemen rushing around that I don’t remember what was said about the black truck. I know we mentioned it, but are the police searching for one? Did the attacker steal Riley’s truck? Otherwise there would have been another vehicle here, right?”

  “Good point.”

  “I’ll tell the police. But first, what is the Rainbow Room and why would your ex trash it?”

  “Because the room is special to me. When I was little my mother would bring me to work with her. I had my own play room at the office that she painted with rainbows and unicorns and princesses. I spent hours having tea parties and making sculptures with caulk and toothpicks. As I grew up and worked for the company that room became my office. The murals are still on the walls.”

  Jared smiled. “I may have had brothers, but I bet very few little girls grew up with a rainbow room.”

  “You’re right.”

  He went over to talk to the police and she found herself awash in warm memories of those days with her mother. Now that she looked back, she could see that her mother had gone the extra mile to spend every moment she could with Rocky. It would have been much easier to put her in daycare. Her mother had loved her greatly, but what secret had she harbored?

  Hours later, Rocky was still sifting through memories and a killer headache, searching for answers. They’d seen her father after leaving the Drake Hotel. It had been both comforting and surreal to have a guard at his door. Just to be on the safe side, Rocky had cut the approved visitor list to only Sheridan-Weldon Solution employees who had ID. T
hen she had talked to Maggie. Riley had been released from the hospital with a mild concussion and was doing fine.

  She and Jared had returned home and barely had time to shower off the soot and smoke before Ringo from the lab arrived to go through her father’s things in the attic. He brought them a stack of information to sift through. Jared started looking at the papers, while she took Ringo to her father’s things in the attic. Ringo had made quick work of what it would have taken her days to sort through and in less than an hour, he was on his way back to the lab. He now had not only the box of family documents, but also bank statements, job agendas, and notes her father had scribbled down.

  In the space of a day her life had become like an episode off Twenty-four. She sank into the soft couch cushions, hoping the Tylenol she’d taken would kick in soon. Jared looked up from her computer. “Ringo all set?”

  “Yeah, if he can sort through my father’s papers as quickly as he could through all of the stuff in the attic, we’ll have answers tonight. You know, I’ve been trying to connect the mystery surrounding my mother and the things happening on the job together. But what if they are separate?”

  Jared frowned as he carried the computer over to her. “It’s possible, but I don’t think so. Take a look as this. Jesse has emailed a video clip of Pat going into the bank. He wasn’t alone.”

  “The bank gave him a video?”

  “Jesse may have clout, but not that much. No. He got this from a shop owner across the street. It shows Pat arriving at the bank first thing Monday morning. Do you recognize the woman with him?”

  Rocky watched the clip three times. The woman wore baggy clothes and an oversized black hoodie. Face hidden in the shadows, she walked beside Uncle Pat, who appeared his usual self. No indication that he was under duress as they entered then exited the bank with the hatbox clearly in Uncle Pat’s hands. “I don’t know who she is,” Rocky said, frustrated. “Are there other videos from a different angle?”