by Raen Smith
“You mean this?” He pointed to a clock that looked as if it could spin tucked neatly against his heart. The woven lines of the Celtic tattoo were buried deep in the middle, almost undetectable at first.
Liam held up the letter. “You got a second?”
***
Ronan shoved half a hot dog in his mouth while Liam talked. He nodded as he chewed, trying to process the information. Charla sat across from him, munching on popcorn that tasted like stale, salted cardboard. But it was enough to keep her hands busy and to fill the uneasiness in her gut so she kept pecking away, swallowing hard.
“So that’s all I know,” Liam finished, folding the letter and putting it in his pocket. “It’s not much, but it’s a start. And since the three of us were pretty much in the same location, at least within thirty minutes of each other, I’m guessing Brody’s not far.”
Ronan shoved the last of the hot dog in his mouth and chewed in a large, exaggerated motion. Then he took a gulp from his straw, guzzling down huge mouthfuls of soda. “So you’re telling me that I have two brothers, and you’re one of them.”
“Yeah,” Liam nodded. “I know it’s a lot to take in. Believe me, I know. I didn’t believe it at first so I showed up at his door and sure enough, Charla was there packing up his stuff.”
“So, what do you know about this guy?” Ronan asked, turning toward her.
“Not much more than Liam told you,” she replied, trying not to think about the whole mafia errand boy detail. None of that would go over well right now. “He wasn’t exactly in the best condition over the last two years. Like I told Liam, I knew Alzheimer’s Jack. I didn’t know Jack before the disease. But what I do know of him, I know he wouldn’t have given up his family easily. He loved Helen.”
“It just doesn’t make any sense,” Ronan said, taking another drink. “In two years, why wouldn’t he have ever mentioned us? He didn’t say a single word about having sons?”
“In the end, he may have forgotten. I had to remind him on hourly basis who I was, but in the beginning, I don’t know.” Charla shook her head. She honestly didn’t know why Jack never mentioned his sons before. Usually Alzheimer’s patients had their long-term memory well intact. She knew he had at least bits of it. “Maybe he was ashamed? Embarrassed? I don’t know…”
“When I was younger, I worried about my real parents, but I stopped wondering a long time ago. I have parents and a sister that I wouldn’t trade for anything. So as much as you want me to go on some wild hunt to find out our real history, I don’t think I can fuckin’ do it, man,” Ronan said. “My life’s damn good the way it is. I don’t need any drama. I’ve got enough of that with the women I date.”
“I’m not asking you to go on some wild hunt with me,” Liam said. “I just think there’s more to the story than we know. I’m just asking you to answer any questions we have along the way while we try to find Brody. Plus, I think it would be good to get to know each other, since we’re brothers and all.”
“I’ll give you that,” Ronan said. He scrunched up his wrapper and shot it into a blue barrel nearby. “I did always want a brother, although I hoped for a younger one I could knock some sense into.”
“That ain’t happening, at least not with me.” Liam laughed, making Ronan crack a smile. It was the first time Charla saw Ronan let his guard down.
“Yeah, I’ll answer any questions you have. And I’ll do a little digging with my parents. I’ll see if they’ll admit to knowing anything about Jack or Helen. They always said they knew nothing about my biological parents, but it’s worth another shot, now that I know a little bit more about them,” Ronan offered as he pulled a phone out of his front jacket pocket. “Call or text me if you find anything else out about Brody. I haven’t seen anyone else with the tattoo, but I can ask around.”
Liam took out his phone and punched in Ronan’s number as he recited it. “I thought you weren’t up for a wild chase?”
“There’s nothing wild about asking a couple questions,” Ronan said. He flashed a serious look at Charla. “You haven’t been hanging around me long enough to know what my definition of wild is.”
“Something tells me I don’t want to know,” she replied, shaking her head. Ronan definitely had two sides to him, the good-natured one sitting in front of her and the unpredictable one she saw down in the pit area. She preferred the one sitting across from her.
“How’d you get roped into this anyway?” Ronan asked.
“Because I’m a sucker,” she replied, looking over at Liam.
“Because she’s a woman with a kind soul who is willing to help out of the goodness of her heart,” Liam answered, meeting Charla’s eyes.
Ronan laughed a knowing, guttural sound. “You two dig up what you can, and I’ll do the same. In the meantime, get a fuckin’ room.” He got up from the table and grabbed his soda. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a race to win tonight.”
“You should drop by my place, the Dirty Leprechaun sometime. It’s in Blackwell. We’ll throw down some Guinness on me.” Liam stood up and offered his hand to Ronan.
“There’s only one kind of beer,” Ronan agreed, meeting Liam’s hand in a hearty shake.
“See? Our Irish blood burns the brew,” Liam said to Charla. He turned back to Ronan. “And I’m looking for a partner for my day job. I think you’d fit the bill pretty damn well.”
“What’s that?” Ronan asked.
“I’m a bounty hunter,” Liam replied. “I could use a partner every once in a while. It’d be safer. The money’s good, plus it’s a shit load of fun.”
“A bounty hunter, huh?” Ronan’s eyebrows raised. “I usually find myself on the other side of the law.”
“That’s the wrong side to be on,” Liam said. “You can’t make money when you’re in jail.”
Ronan nodded his head before he let out a rough laugh. “Good fucking point. I’m busy at the shop, but I’ll think about it if you’re serious.”
“I’m serious,” Liam said. “I don’t let it interfere with my bar, but it’s good to get your blood pumping every once in a while. The bar doesn’t exactly do that for me, except for the occasional fight.”
“The Dirty Leprechaun…” Ronan’s face lit up in sudden realization. “That’s where I met that blonde with the big tits and the…”
“Don’t finish that,” Charla interrupted, putting up her hand. “No more blonde talk. I can’t take it anymore.”
Ronan and Liam broke out in laughter. Then Ronan turned toward her with a calm face. “You just watch yourself around this guy.” He clapped his hand on Liam’s back. “If he’s anything like me, he’ll break your heart. He won’t mean it, but he will.”
***
“Come in for a little while. You must be starving,” Liam said, turning to face Charla in the passenger seat. They sat parked in the back alley of the Dirty Leprechaun. “I’ll make you anything on the menu. We’re not a full-blown restaurant, but I make a mean wrap and killer fried pickles.”
She sighed, feeling the empty pit in her stomach grumble. She was starving, and the thought of Liam serving her up dinner was enticing. She’d never had a man cook for her before and the fact that he was willing to before they’d even gone on a date made her heart falter. But the boxes in Jack’s cottage were calling her name. She’d made decent progress this morning. If she went back now, she would have a few good hours of packing up the last of the boxes. Then she’d only to bring the boxes to the donation center and haul the furniture to the curb. And start job and apartment hunting.
And the basement, she suddenly remembered. A shiver ran down her spine.
“Anything you want,” he repeated softly, leaning toward her. “I’ll even wear an apron.”
“Well, in that case…” She smiled, relenting to the sweet temptation of his eyes. “I’m in, but I should get back to the cottage after dinner. I’ve got a ton to do.”
“I’ll take it.” He tapped the steering wheel and opened the door. “B
ut I don’t know why you’re so worried about cleaning that cottage up. It’s not going anywhere.”
“It’s not the cottage,” she replied as she got out of the car. She leaned over the top of the car to meet his gaze. “It’s me. It’s where I’m going.”
“Oh yeah? And where’s that?” he asked, resting his arms on the car like her.
“I don’t know yet, but it’s time to move on.” She slammed the door shut. The soft thumping of music from the Dirty Leprechaun filled the early night air. The heat was finally breaking, and she welcomed the breeze that brushed against her bare skin. It was getting so damn hot in the car with Liam.
“I like where your head’s at.” He shut his door and the car chirped from his key fob. Then he opened the back door of the bar. “Head in and take the door on the right into the kitchen.”
Charla ducked into the hallway and opened the door to the kitchen. The sounds of clattering dishes and voices echoed through the space, but she didn’t see anyone. Liam stepped in front of her and washed his hands at a sink. Then he grabbed an apron off a rack to her right and whipped it over his head, tying it loosely around his hips.
“Chef Liam at your service.” He held out his hands as if he was presenting himself.
“Seriously, what don’t you do?” Charla laughed.
“Not much,” he replied, grabbing a menu from a holder on the wall and handing it to her. “Except for cats. I don’t do cats. Or snakes.”
“I’m outta here.” She pretended to drop the menu on the counter and turned to go.
Liam spun her around to face him. His face was serious and his shoulders back, just like when he first confronted Ronan. It was his take-no-prisoners face. “Not a chance. I got you this far. You’re going to eat some goddamn fried pickles whether you like it or not.”
She nodded her head, feeling her knees go weak. “It works. I don’t know how you do it. But that really works.”
“I know.” He grinned and dropped her arms. He spun around and walked to the refrigerator. He began pulling out ingredients, stock piling them on a stainless steel cart across from the stove and deep fryer.
“What can I help with?” she asked, walking over to the sink to wash her hands.
“Nothing,” he replied. “This is my ‘thank you for coming with me today.’ You get to sit back and enjoy.”
“I can help. I’m not that bad in the kitchen,” she replied, drying her hands.
He set down a head of lettuce and looked at her. “Not that bad didn’t cut it at Cecilia’s and it doesn’t cut it here.”
“What’s Cecilia’s?” She leaned up against the cart, surveying all the ingredients he had gathered. She wondered what he could possibly need with all of this food.
“It was my mom and dad’s restaurant, about five minutes from here. Nice little Italian place. I spent my childhood helping them in the kitchen, learned everything about sauces from my dad and bread from my mom. She made the most delicious fire-roasted tomato bruschetta. And even though Mom was Italian, Dad was Irish and always tried to sneak in some classic recipes like Dublin Coddle and corned beef. They never let me forget who I was,” he said, his eyes softening. He began chopping an onion, his hands moving quick with efficient movements. “They sold the restaurant when I joined the Marines because they didn’t have the energy to keep up with it anymore. Mom was in her late seventies by then and Dad, he was early eighties. I’m glad they’re not alive to see what Cecilia’s became. It’s some hole-in-the-wall taco bar now.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your parents. You didn’t have any interest in staying back and taking over the restaurant?” she asked.
“I joined the Marines to make Dad proud and because of 9/11. I felt like I had a duty to my country to serve,” he replied matter-of-fact as he reached for a knife. He diced tomatoes faster than she’d ever seen. His voice became quieter. “Which meant that I couldn’t serve my parents or my wife.”
Charla was silent, listening to the click of the knife against the wooden cutting board.
“But that’s in the past and today is the mark of a new beginning,” Liam added as a man with curly brown hair walked through the door.
“Hey, Ted.” Liam waved the knife at him. “How’s the night going?”
“Good,” Ted replied, wiping his hands on his apron before lifting it over his head. He glanced at Charla with a puzzled look before answering. “Busy for a Wednesday night.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” Liam replied. “Everything all right in the kitchen?”
“Yep, the food’s slowing down now so I should be able to help Gina at the bar,” Ted replied, taking a second look at Charla. She wondered if Liam had been honest about not dating anyone after his ex-wife. Ted seemed surprised she was there.
“Charla, Ted.” Liam pointed the knife at her and then Ted.
“Hi,” Charla said with a small wave. Ted nodded his head in return and shot her a quick smile.
“Ted, why don’t you bring Charla out to the bar,” Liam said. “She can have a drink while she waits for the masterpiece to be prepared.”
“Let me guess. Cabbage wrap with fried pickles?” Ted asked.
“You got it,” Liam replied. “And if you’d pay closer attention, you could do the same.”
Ted laughed and turned to Charla. “Come on.”
He led her through the door and into the noisy clatter of the bar. He leaned over and said in her ear, “There’s an open spot over there.” He pointed to the empty stool at the end of the bar.
She weaved through the crowd, surveying the scene. The bar was alive with activity and people, mostly in their twenties and thirties. A large crowd huddled around the pool table suddenly erupted in a buzz of cheers and clapping. A woman walked up to a poster board tacked on the wall and marked something down. League night, she thought. Liam definitely had the pulse on his business. Within a few moments of sliding onto the seat, the bartender appeared in front of Charla with a glass of red wine.
“Courtesy of the owner.” Gina flipped down a napkin and placed the glass on it. She paused for a second, tucking a strand of dark brown hair behind her ear and pushing up her black-rimmed glasses. “You must be someone special. Liam never gives away free drinks.”
“Oh.” Charla shrugged her shoulders. “We just met.”
The bartender tilted her head, studying Charla a little closer. Then she tapped the edge of the counter and smiled. “Enjoy your drink.” Then she disappeared down to the other end of the bar, laughing as she filled up a glass of beer from the tap.
Charla sipped on the wine, letting the warmth slide down her throat and settle into her empty stomach. After a few sips, she already felt the warmth cloud the rest of her body. She felt another low grumble in her stomach just as Liam’s head popped through the door. His eyes scanned the bar until they fell on hers. A surge of excitement coursed through her body. Damn it, she scolded herself. Don’t let Liam get to you.
He weaved through the crowd and finally made his way to her with two plates in his hands. He slid one in front of her and held the other. He waved to Gina who promptly brought over a set of utensils and napkins.
“Looks delicious.” Charla admired the crisp light brown color of the pickles and the sauce drizzled on the inside of the wrap. “Good presentation.”
“Only the best,” Liam replied.
“I can move.” A middle-aged man wearing a camel bomber jacket turned to her. He had straw-like hair and slight wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. He grabbed his beer and started to stand as Liam clapped him on the shoulder.
“Not a chance, Jerry,” he replied.
“Hey, Liam. I was looking for you,” Jerry said, turning toward him. They exchanged a hard hand shake and smiles. “I heard you brought Rich Horton in naked this morning.”
“You bet his sorry ass I did,” Liam replied. “I definitely worked for my money this morning letting that guy sit naked in the van. Sheriff Sullivan wasn’t too pleased to see him in that sta
te, but we had a good laugh about it afterward.”
“Never a dull moment,” Jerry replied, taking a drink.
“Never,” Liam said, turning to Charla. “Charla, this is Jerry, my boss.”
“Nice to meet you, Charla,” Jerry said, nodding his head.
“As in your bounty hunter, boss?” she asked, taking a bite of fried pickle.
Jerry laughed. “Yeah, something like that. I’m a bondsman.” He leaned in closer and spoke quietly. “But if you tell anybody, I’d have to kill you. I like to keep it on the down-low. You know, keep the bad guys at bay.” Then he winked at her.
“Sure,” she replied, nodding her head. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
“What do you need, Jerry?” Liam asked.
“I wanted to let you know I got a lead on someone,” he started, darting his eyes around. “Someone big. The buzz is that he’s around Blackwell. He’s someone the feds have been looking for a while. It’ll be a huge pay day if we can get him.”
“How big we talking?” Liam asked.
“Huge.” Jerry’s eyes got wide. “Real huge. But he’s dangerous, so we have to be careful. We have to make sure we got it locked down. I want to send a team. This ain’t no naked Rich Horton. This is a serious offender the feds have been screaming to catch. Ties with the mafia, drug smuggling, you name it.”
Charla choked on her pickle at the mention of mafia. She chewed feverishly and grabbed the napkin, holding it over her mouth. Then she grabbed the glass of wine and took a swig, washing it down. She looked back at the men, but they hadn’t noticed.
“You know I don’t work with anyone else,” Liam replied, leaning in closer to Jerry.
“This ain’t a job for just one person,” he said, shaking his head.
“Why don’t you just have Rick’s team do it? They got three guys, right?” Liam asked. “You know I don’t like saying no to anything, but I only work with people I trust.”
“I want you, kid,” Jerry said, pointing a finger into his chest. Then he slipped his hand inside his jacket and pulled out a yellow envelope. He shoved the envelope into Liam’s hand. “This is what I have so far. You better get to trusting real fast because I don’t think he’s going to be in town for long. Maybe only a couple days before he heads down to Mexico again. I’m going to head out to do a little more research and recon work. I’ll call you in the morning with what I have. You think about it, kid. I know you’re the right guy for the job.”
