Irish Eyes (Stolen Hearts Romance)

by Annie Jones

  “Hmm.”

  “What are you thinking, O’Dea? Is Shaughnessy capable of safe-cracking?”

  “If you’re asking if he would sink that low, the answer is yes.” Cameron rubbed one knuckle against his jaw.

  “Does he have the skills?”

  A slow smile quirked up the comer of his lips. “Anyone who ever busted into a piggy bank has the skills to open that pathetic old safe of yours, my friend.”

  “Oh.” The young man looked properly chagrinned at that news.

  “What else can you tell me?” He pressed on. “Was there nothin’ else tampered with? Nothin’ disturbed?”

  Craig’s glasses squeaked softly as he fidgeted with the earpiece. “Only in Julia’s office.”

  “Julia’s office?” That alarmed him. “What about Julia’s office?”

  “Well, things were rifled through pretty thoroughly there. Papers everywhere, drawers left open, that kind of thing.”

  His heartbeat drummed in his ears. He fished his car key out of his pocket. “Why didn’t you tell me this first, lad?”

  “The police officer who took the report said that wasn’t odd, that the intruder was probably just looking for the safe’s combination.”

  “And I’ve just told you, he wouldn’t have needed one.” He started the car and yanked it into gear.

  “Hey!” Craig braced himself straight-armed against the dash. “What do you think you’re doing, O’Dea? Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Back to Julia’s.” His tires squealed as he tore towards his destination.

  “But I have work at the shelter,” Craig protested even as he grabbed the seatbelt and latched it into place with a definite metallic click.

  “You want a job to do, then do something useful.” He jabbed his chin toward the cellular phone lying between the two bucket seats. “Pick that up and dial Julia’s number. You’ve got to warn her.”

  “Warn her?” Craig asked, even as he did as he was told. “What should I warn her about?”

  “Warn her that she has just become Michael Shaughnessy’s next target.”

  *

  Julia’s hair crackled with static electricity as she wrenched off her black sweater. The top cascaded into a puddle of cast-off clothing along with the jeans that she had worn today.

  Cameron had teased her unmercifully for not wearing green today of all days. She’d explained to him that she’d been so caught up in the logistics of the event that she’d forgotten all about what the day commemorated.

  He’d accused her, using a very bad Freudian accent, of choosing to dress in black because she harbored hidden hostilities toward him and his event. When she denied it, he offered to let her borrow one of the dark green laces from his hiking boots, or at least to let him pin a paper shamrock to her collar.

  She’d countered that he’d pinned enough on her already. She reached down to her nightstand and plucked up the tracking device. She slid into an oversized sweatshirt—an eyepopping, kelly green oversized sweatshirt—and tugged on a pair of jogging pants—forest green jogging pants. Humming quietly, she pulled the long hair pressed against her back free from the neckline of her shirt.

  With the tracking device clutched in her hand, she padded barefoot down the hall. As she passed the front door her thoughts went once again to the moment when Cameron had almost kissed her. She took a deep, shaky breath. She could still smell the subtle scent of him, feel the rush of precious anticipation, taste his mouth on hers, even if it only had been for an instant.

  She sighed. Foolish, foolish dream. Still, something compelled her to open the door again, to step outside onto the darkened porch where she and Cameron had stood together.

  “It’s the sky,” she murmured.

  The sky had drawn her out, she decided, recalling how vividly the stars had glittered overhead. Leaving the front door standing open so she could easily run for her phone if needed, she sat down on the top porch step and gazed upward. The moon looked like a giant wheel of cheese, with just a sliver shaved off one side. It beamed benevolently down upon her.

  Julia let out a long, soft breath. She was suddenly filled with an overwhelming sense of gratitude for her many, many blessings. Her mind turned to those less fortunate, and she offered a silent prayer for Devin and Fiona, that they would be together soon, and for the shelter and all who ran it and all who depended on it.

  “And for Cameron,” she added, looking up at that brilliant benevolent mood. She was not the type to get on her knees with a wish list, asking that it be filled. “If I were to ask for anything more tonight, I suppose it would be for peace.”

  She shut her eyes tightly and gripped her hands together, the tracking pin biting into her palms.

  “Peace,” she went on, “for my heart. Peace about my work. Peace about my life. Peace in the knowledge that even though there is no future for me with a man like Cameron O’Dea, it is enough to have known him, to have had him touch my life.”

  She tilted her head up to take in the gorgeous sky, seeing it this time through a film of tears. Her nose tingled and her chest ached just a bit, but she felt better for having given voice to her feeling? As she fingered the golden pin in her hands, she wondered if Cameron would ever know just how much he meant to her.

  “That was lovely, sweet Julia.”

  She gasped, narrowing her eyes into the darkness. “Cameron?”

  No answer came.

  A sudden foreboding rippled through her. She leaped up from the step and stretched inside the door to flip on the overhead light.

  Whipping around, she called out, “Who’s there?”

  Again, no answer.

  Could she have imagined the soft Irish tones? She placed her hands on her hips. “Whoever you are, show yourself. I’m in no mood to play games.”

  Nothing.

  She rubbed her thumb over the pin in her hand and exhaled noisily. “Great. Now I’m imagining leprechauns lurking about my house in the night.”

  She turned her back to return inside.

  “Twas no trick of the imagination, Miss Reed.”

  She spun around to see the leering face of Michael Shaughnessy as he stepped into the yellow circle of light.

  “And I am no leprechaun.”

  *

  “C’mon, Julia, pick up the phone.” Craig ground the request through clenched teeth.

  “Still no answer?” Cameron maneuvered through the streets of her suburb as fast as he could safely go. He had to get to her. Had to see for himself that she had just stepped out for a walk or into the shower. He had to know that no harm had come to his sweet Julia.

  Craig pressed the ‘end call’ button and set down the phone. “She’s not going to answer.”

  “Do me a favor.” Cameron turned the wheel hand over hand to maintain control. “There’s a small black electronic device on the floor. Pick it up and see that it is switched on.”

  Craig leaned down and pulled up the receiver, looking it over slowly but not doing as he was told. “This?”

  “Yes, yes.” The delay grated on his already worn patience. “Turn it on, man!”

  Craig complied with a stroke of his thumb. “What does it do?”

  “God willing, lad, it won’t do anything.”

  “That’s certainly helpful.” Craig let it fall into his lap. Cameron turned down Julia’s street then stomped down on the brake as the headlights of an oncoming car slashed across his windshield. He swerved. The plain white car whizzed by, but he gave it little notice. His gaze stretched farther up the street to the small house with the yellow porch light.

  “You don’t really think she’s in danger, do you?” Craig asked.

  “Now there’s a fine question out of the mouth of someone who is suspicious of everyone who gets close to the lady”

  “Not everyone,” Craig mumbled. “Hey, what does it mean when a little green light comes on?”

  Craig’s innocent question made Cameron’s blood run cold. “When? When did it come on
?” he demanded. Cameron tried to steal a glance at the device while still keeping Julia’s house in sight. They were close enough to pick up Julia’s signal in her home, he reminded himself.

  “I guess about the time we passed that car,” Craig replied. They would have come into range by then, Cameron thought. That could actually be a good sign.

  “Gee, now it’s gone off and a red light is on.”

  That was definitely not a good sign. Cameron slowed the car to turn into Julia’s drive.

  “Pull out the antenna and point it in the direction of that car,” Cameron ordered.

  Craig fidgeted with the gadget.

  “Do it now, man!” He shifted into reverse. If his apprehensions were real, he’d be taking off again—in pursuit of Julia.

  Craig whisked the antenna out and pointed it down the street. “It’s green again.”

  The car jerked backward.

  “What are you doing?” Craig squawked. “I thought we came here to help Julia.”

  “We did, and that’s what we’re doing. The only way we can help her now is to follow her. She’s in that car.”

  “No, she’s not.” Craig clutched at the armrest on the passenger door as Cameron gunned the motor and the car lurched backward. “She’s right there in her driveway.”

  Cameron braked hard.

  Craig’s head whipped back against the headrest. “Ow. Where’d you learn to drive? Clown college?”

  Cameron stopped in the street and stared at the vision of Julia, her hair ruffled but otherwise looking fine. She ran toward the car.

  He rolled down the window. “What happened?”

  “Shaughnessy.” She gasped for breath. “He was here.”

  “Did he hurt you?”

  “No.” She shook her head and gulped down more air. “We struggled. He tried to haul me into his car, but my neighbor, Norman, came out and scared him off.”

  Cameron smiled. Julia was safe. “Remind me to thank Norman for watching out for you.”

  “As though you thought he wouldn’t.” Her blue eyes sparked. “You have a way of catching up everyone you run across in your little schemes and dreams. Norman’s inside calling the police right now.”

  She reached for the handle on the back door.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “We have to go after Shaughnessy.” She pressed her hand to the lowered glass of his window. “While I was trying to get away from him, I was able to slip my tracking pin into his pocket.”

  “You did?” Cameron blinked then chuckled softly. “Of course you did. That’s my girl.”

  She grinned. “Hey, you aren’t the only one who watched old TV spy shows. Just let me hop in and we’ll go after him.”

  “We aren’t going anywhere.” Cameron circled her wrist with his hand. “This is between Shaughnessy and me. You’re not involved.”

  “If I wasn’t before, he just got me involved.” She tried to twist her hand from his grasp.

  He held firm. “I can’t waste time arguing with you about this. You have to stay and talk to the police. I’m going after Michael.”

  “Norman can talk to the police,” she protested.

  “Craig?” Cameron craned his neck to speak to the other man while he kept his hand on Julia. “Remember when we agreed that the one thing we agree on is protecting Julia?”

  “I’m way ahead of you, O’Dea.” He popped his door open and got out.

  “I will not be treated like a child,” Julia called out as Craig came around the front of the car. Her hair whipped across her face as she confronted Cameron. “By either of you.”

  “If you don't want to be treated like a child, stop behaving like one.” Craig took her by the arm.

  Cameron released his hold on her.

  “I am not—” The momentum as she yanked her hand away threw her back against Craig. She almost—almost—stomped her foot down on his.

  Julia swiveled back toward Cameron at the sound of his unabashed laughter. He figured he should take credit for saving Craig’s instep.

  She glowered.

  Cameron tipped his head in farewell and put the car in gear. “Hopefully, I’ll have Devin home with his mother and Michael in jail before the night is over. Don’t leave Julia alone.”

  “I won’t,” Craig said, his arm around the sulking woman.

  “Good night, sweet Julia.” He could not meet her seething gaze. He sighed and tried not to think of the implications for his heart as he added, “All goes as planned, you’ll be well rid of me once and for all come morning.”

  He did not look back, sorely tempted as he was. He just placed the tracking device on the dash and drove, hoping the precious moments wasted arguing with Julia would not cost him his prey.

  “C’mon,” he urged the black box. Gritting his teeth, he practically willed the tracking light to change from red to green. “Lead me to Michael.”

  The scenes of the suburbs rolled past him. He glanced down a series of dead-end alleys and found them empty. The light stayed as red as the traffic signal over the intersection ahead. He stopped.

  “Tis no use,” he muttered. “Michael could be anywhere.”

  He hammered his fist against the steering wheel. His jaw clenched. The traffic light turned green. Cameron moved the car forward at a snail’s pace. The tracking device stayed red through the intersection and all down that block and the next. Cameron was on the verge of throwing in the towel when another red light caught him off guard.

  He punched the brakes hard. The car jolted to a stop. The tracking device spun on the dash, then plummeted to the floor. Cameron reached down to retrieve it, and his hand froze in midair.

  Green.

  The antenna extended over his shoulder. His quarry, he realized, lay behind him.

  A quick glance in the rearview mirror confirmed it as he witnessed a plain white car dart into an alley two blocks back. He immediately turned the car around. Michael no doubt thought to hide out until Cameron had given up. Either that, or his lifelong friend, the man as close to him as his own brother, had just laid a trap for him.

  The alley in sight, Cameron turned off the ignition and let the car coast in neutral to a stop along the curb. He opened the door with such control it barely registered a sound. He slid out, crouching to use the car for cover from peering eyes—and anything else that might target him from the depths of the dark alley.

  He reached under his sweater and put his hand on his gun. Despite the warmth of his body beneath the knit, a cold feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. How could he draw a weapon on Michael? Was the man so corrupt that Cameron had reason to fear deadly force—or to use it?

  His fingers curled over his service revolver. Every ounce of his training told him not to walk into this unarmed. Every fiber of his being told him not to go against his friend with a gun drawn. He held his breath. How could Michael have come so far as to take a child hostage, to rough up and try to kidnap an innocent woman?

  Cameron alone could fully understand the man’s obsession. It was the other side of the coin to his own feelings about the gold, the legend, and family responsibility. Just as he would do anything to return the stolen treasure, Michael would go as far to claim the gold for family, honor, and justice. Knowing this, Cameron drew his weapon and inched out of the car.

  From behind the fender, he studied the opening to the alley. He’d noted before that these alleys were all blocked by chain- link fencing. He knew that if Michael had gone in, then he was still there. Moonlight glinted off the chrome bumper, and Cameron glared upward, wishing for clouds.

  Wishing is not going to get the job done, he reminded himself. In a burst of speed, he ran from the protection of his car to the side of the building, without crossing the alley opening. Unless Michael was watching from the shadows, he would not have a clue that Cameron was stalking him.

  Cameron counted on that advantage, but he did not preclude other situations. He held his gun up, pointing toward the moon that mock
ed him by making the black barrel gleam like calm water. His heart thudded faster and faster in his chest. He’d faced worse situations tactically but never one with so much personal emotional involvement. What if Devin were in the car? What if Michael tried to use the boy as a shield? What if he had to look deep into the eyes of his childhood friend and pull that trigger?

  It ripped away at his being even to imagine it but knew he would do what he had to do. He swallowed hard, drew a deep breath, and entered the alley

  The white car sat at the end of the narrow passage. No movement betrayed the occupants. No sounds. No lights. Cameron edged along the side of the alley, his back pressed to the damp, cold bricks.

  Nothing.

  What was Michael waiting for? For Cameron to draw so close he could take him out in one swift ambush?

  Every muscle in Cameron’s body tensed, ready to pounce. His pulse throbbed in his ears. Moving slowly, he decided, was only making him an easier mark. He had to move and move now. His boots hit the ground with such force that it jarred him to his teeth, but he charged on. Rounding the bumper, he drew a bead on the driver’s window.

  Empty.

  The car was empty. His shoulder slumped as he peered in again, his gaze sweeping the seats and floorboards. The car had been abandoned.

  He glanced at the chain-link fence and judged that Michael could have scaled it easily. He sighed and reholstered his gun. The release of all his built-up adrenaline flowed through his body with a tingling force. At least, he reasoned, it wasn’t hopeless. He could call in a police unit to impound the car so Michael could not retrieve it. And he could still use the tracking device to zero in on Michael. Since the man was now on foot, that give Cameron a definite advantage.

  He propped one arm against the roof of the car, which put him at just the right angle to see a tell-tale beam of moonlight falling on something golden in the car. He popped open the door and ducked inside.

  If he had been a cursing man, he’d have let loose a string of words just then that would have curdled the milk in Mrs. Murphy’s cows. The light of the big, lopsided moon flashed off the gold cast of the tracking pin.