by Raen Smith
“Yeah, that’s it,” she said defiantly. “I figured he sold all his assets to afford living at home. Not many people can hire an in-home care provider. Most people go to a facility.”
He shook his head, trying to make sense of it all like Charla had. The problem was that it didn’t make sense. “What else did he say?”
“He said that Helen was murdered because of him,” she continued. “He said over and over how sorry he was and that he didn’t mean for it to happen. He said he saw something he wasn’t supposed to see…” She closed her eyes, trying to remember his exact words.
“Charla?”
“He said he saw some Jimmy guy get murdered in Boston,” she replied. “He said one of his own guys shot him in a back alley somewhere. Some restaurant or something. I couldn’t understand what he was saying. Then he said that they were after him when they shot Helen.”
“Jesus,” Liam whispered.
“Yeah, tell me about it,” she replied, exhaling as relief spread through her body. A weight lifted off her chest. “I still don’t want to believe it, though. There’s no way. I couldn’t imagine Jack hanging around the mafia. He was a loner, living on a lake in the Midwest. There’s no way he spent time hanging around the mafia in Boston. No way…”
He cocked his head and stared at her.
“I get your point,” she replied, nodding her head at the realization that Mud Lake was a great place for people to hide. There wasn’t much of anything around the cottage.
“He brought us all here,” Liam said, standing up. He started pacing around the kitchen. “But he was too afraid to keep us so he put us up for adoption to safeguard us.”
“Liam, I …” she started.
He put his hand up to interrupt her as he thought. “He gave us the tattoos so we would know we belonged together. It was a way for us to find each other one day.”
Charla bit her lip. Even though she didn’t want to believe it, Liam’s train of thought and enthusiasm were convincing her. “Maybe this whole mafia thing isn’t the best thing to do. I mean, you can see how it tore apart your own family.”
“So, you believe everything he said?” He stopped pacing and came back to the table. He wrapped his hands on the back and leaned toward her.
“I don’t know…I mean…” she stuttered and then made eye contact with him. She couldn’t mistake the conviction in his eyes, as if he knew something she didn’t. “You’re making me believe it’s true.” The envelope. Charla’s mind replayed the moment when Liam dropped the letter into the water. She’d never seen what was in the letter and now she wondered if she’d made a mistake. “Is there something you know that I should know?”
“No,” he replied, pushing himself off the chair. He started pacing the kitchen again. “But you’re right about Mickey being back in town. Seems like too much of a coincidence. Jack dies and suddenly there’s a mafia drug lord coming to Blackwell.”
“Exactly the reason why you should stay out of all this,” she said. “It’s too dangerous. There’s no way Mickey knows who you are and you should do everything you can to keep it that way. Wait it out. Jerry said himself he’d be out of town in a few days, headed back down to Mexico. Let someone else go after him.”
“But what if he’s the one responsible for killing my mother?” he asked. “I can’t let that slide. I need to know. Wouldn’t you want to know if someone was responsible for killing your father? Wouldn’t you want to know?”
A burn passed through Charla’s body. “No, I wouldn’t want to know.”
“Well, that makes us two different people, then,” he said. “I want to know what happened to Helen. I want to find Brody. And I want to know if Jack is who he said he was. They’re my family for Christ’s sake. It’s my past. It’s who I am. It’s where I came from. I have a right to know.”
She clamped her lips together, fighting the urge to tell him where you come from isn’t always exactly what it’s cracked up to be. She pushed the plate of half-eaten eggs away from her and stood up. “Well, you’re going to have to go at this one alone. There’s no way I’m getting involved with the mafia.” She paused, letting the words soak in. “God, you know how crazy that sounds, Liam? The mafia?”
“I know,” he said, taking a few steps toward her. “I know it’s crazy, but I don’t have a choice. I have to do this.”
“I get it, you have to do this,” she repeated, trying to convince herself. He took her hands and held them in front of his face. Then he kissed each of them lightly. “Don’t make this any harder to walk away.”
“You’re not walking away for good,” he said, pulling her into him. “Just for a few days until I get this straightened out. But I’m going to ask you for one favor. I don’t want you stay at the cottage anymore.”
Charla raised her eyebrows. “Why?”
“Just in case,” he said. “I don’t know if any of this is related, but if it is, I don’t want you anywhere near the cottage. Do have some place else you can stay? I don’t know if you should stay with me, even though you don’t know how bad I want to wake up to this face every morning.” He ran his finger along her cheek, sending a surge of warmth through her body. “And this.” He lightly cupped her right butt cheek. “And these lips.” Then he sweetly pressed his lips against hers.
She pulled back, breathing heavily. “You sure you need to do this?”
“It’ll only be a few days.” He kissed her again. “I promise.”
“I’ll stay with my friend,” she replied. “I’ll pick up a few things this afternoon and then head there. Aaron will love it.”
“Your friend’s a guy?” he asked with surprise. “On second thought, I think it would be fine if you stayed here.”
She smiled, amused with the jealousy. “Aaron is Jill’s fiancé. They live together.”
“Good.” He kissed her again, this time longer. He finally pulled away and looked into her eyes. “Just a few days.”
Chapter 9
As the Dirty Leprechaun vanished in Charla’s rear view mirror, she slid on her sunglasses to block the glare of the morning sun. The breeze filtered through the window as she picked up speed, whipping her hair in streams behind her. She leaned forward to dig in her back pocket, retrieving the folded checklist. She held it against the steering wheel, taking short glances at it.
1. Pack rest of boxes.
2. Search for an apartment.
3. Call realtor.
4. Go to Dirty Leprechaun and tell Liam about Jack.
4. Stay out of Liam’s business with Jack.
5. Don’t fall in love with Liam Murphy.
She’d accomplish none of the items on the list in the last twenty-four hours. As for number four, she’d clearly crossed that line with the search for Ronan and the admission about Jack’s claim to his involvement with the mafia. It’s like no line even existed at all. And number five, she wasn’t in love with Liam Murphy. Yet. But she was could feel herself tumbling closer to him and fast. He was definitely making it hard not to fall for him. Even though she’d seen the only two people in the world she loathed more than anything, he somehow managed to make it the best twenty-four hours she’d had in a long time.
To hell with the checklist. She didn’t need it anyway. She folded it back up and shoved it into her purse. As she leaned over to turn up the radio, the muffled melody of her phone rang. She fumbled through her purse on the passenger seat to find it, catching it on the last ring.
“Jill.” Charla couldn’t help smiling. She knew her friend was going to love what she was about to tell her.
“Where have you been?” Jill demanded. Charla could envision her in the locker room at the gym, wearing her skin-tight workout gear with her hands on her hips. She was most likely standing on the scale or watching herself do squats in the mirror.
“Out,” she replied lightly. She knew Jill wasn’t going to let her go this easy, but it would be fun to listen to her squirm.
“Did you sleep with him?” Her voice bounc
ed up and down.
“Are you doing squats?”
“Yes,” Jill replied, clearly flustered. “But that doesn’t matter. Answer my question.”
“Maybe,” she said, letting her voice draw out. “Maybe not.”
“Oh my God, you did. How was it?” Jill asked. “Tell me it was better than Rex.”
Charla paused, not responding at first. Torturing Jill was amusing.
“Tell me something. Anything. Are you taking the drive of shame?” She sputtered.
Charla finally let out a laugh. “It’s definitely not a drive of shame. I have nothing to be ashamed about. And by the way, who’s Rex?”
“Oh, Charla. I’m so happy for you. I feel like a proud mama,” Jill said in a high-pitched voice that leveled off. Charla smiled at the thought of making Jill so proud she could stop doing squats while they talked.
“I’ll tell you more about it later,” she replied. “I’ve got some stuff I have to do, but I will tell you it was amazing.”
“YES!” Jill yelled. “Exactly what you needed.”
“Exactly,” she repeated. “By the way, I saw both Dotti and Rex yesterday to cap my day off.”
“Come on,” Jill groaned. “Are you serious? How did that happen?”
“Dotti at Goodwill and Rex at a strip club.”
“WHAT?” Jill exclaimed. “What in the hell -”
“I know, I know. There’s so much to cover, but I know you’re in the middle of working out, so we can talk more later. About that…” Charla started. She knew Jill would have no problem with it, but she felt like she was imposing on Aaron. He was a structured kind of guy so he didn’t exactly thrive on the chaos of letting someone crash on his couch for a few days. “I was wondering if I could stay with you for a few days. You think Aaron will mind?”
“Absolutely, you can stay with us. And who gives a shit if Aaron minds. It’s just a few days. He could use a little upheaval in his life in the form of a couch crasher,” Jill replied. “I love the man, but he can be a tight-ass about that kind of stuff. Is there something going on at the cottage?”
“Well, not exactly,” she hesitated. She couldn’t possibly get into everything with Jill right now. She’d overreact and send them both into a panic. Charla wasn’t worried yet, anyway. The whole mafia thing still seemed far-fetched, but she figured she better be safe than sorry. Everything would blow over in a few days, and then she could finish packing up Jack’s place and get it on the market.
“Is it the nightmares?” Jill whispered.
“I’d just feel more comfortable staying at your place for a few days. Three nights tops,” Charla replied. “It should give me enough time to find a place of my own.”
“Whatever you need,” she replied. “Before I go, tell me something about Liam I should know. Something to tide me over until I can hear more. You know, it’s not every day you come across an Irish Bounty Hunter.”
Charla paused, thinking about all the things that drove her wild about Liam. There was the cooking, the wicked smile, the way he got what he wanted, the sweet touch of his lips, the tattoos…
“Oh God, Charla. You’re falling for him pretty hard, aren’t you?” Jill added.
“Maybe,” she replied, feeling her face flush. “He’s got these amazing tattoos. They’re so intricate, so detailed. Every single one has a story, and it’s both beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time. He’s got this one over his heart that has these interlocking circles. It’s the Celtic symbol for family.”
“Huh,” Jill said, her voice trailing off. “That’s the best thing about him? His tattoos?”
“Do you want me to go on?” She laughed. “Because I can, but you’re going to be doing lunges in no time.”
“You said circles over his heart?” Jill asked.
“Yeah, something like that.” Charla flicked on her directional and turned into the grocery store parking lot. She hadn’t done what she was about to do in a long time, but something about Liam searching for his family gave her a sudden urge.
“Must be a popular thing,” Jill replied. “Anyway, I gotta get going. Cycling starts in five minutes.”
“What do you mean? A popular thing?” Charla parked the Corolla and turned off the engine.
“Oh, there’s a guy at the gym who has something like it, but it’s all faded and small. I was surprised he even had a tattoo at all.” Jill laughed. “He’s a software geek. Developed some app or something and is filthy rich.”
“What’s his name? Is he young?” Charla held her hands on the key, her heart pounding as she waited for the answer.
“Paul something. I don’t know his last name. Probably in his early twenties. Bastard’s set for life. Why?”
“Oh,” Charla replied, dropping her hand off the keys and grabbing her purse. “Just thought it might be someone else.”
“Well, whatever. Stop by the gym later so you can pick up my keys to get into the house. Aaron won’t be home until later. Gotta go.”
Charla pulled the phone from her ear and held it in her lap. What were the odds another guy would have the same tattoo over his chest? The fact it was faded and small could mean he never had it touched up, but Liam had definitely said his name was Brody, not Paul. But he fit the bill: tattoo and in his early twenties. Both Liam and Ronan had the right names, but maybe…
Name change, Charla thought. His parents could have changed his name. Maybe they didn’t like the name Brody. If Liam was four, Brody must have been one. They could have easily changed his name. She shuffled her phone in her hand, wanting to call Liam right away. But she decided against it until she knew more about Paul from Jill. She threw her phone in the purse and swung it over her shoulder, feeling a real possibility she had found Liam’s last brother.
She looked up at the store through her windshield and exhaled. Getting groceries for Dotti would be a thankless task, but it was a good excuse to drop by and leave the card with her. She would leave it on her front steps, like she always did and slink away without being noticed.
Charla couldn’t give up on Dotti.
***
Liam sat on a bench in Hawthorne Park and watched the little hand throw bread crumbs over the bridge. The ducks flapped their wings and clamored down below in the water, fighting for the crumbs. Survival of the fittest. The battle happened everywhere, between all walks of life. Only the strongest survived, and Liam was hell-bent being on top. After reading Jack’s letter, nothing was going to stop him from finding out what really happened to his biological parents. Someone had answers, and he would do whatever he needed to do to find those answers.
The woman next to the boy on the bridge bent down and placed another lump in his waiting hand. He tossed it over, the ducks fighting down below again. Then she ruffled his hair, took his hand and turned to go. He felt a pang in his heart at the sight, thinking of Genevieve. When they had gotten married, they both agreed they wanted kids, not just when they were kids themselves. They had agreed to holding off until Liam was done with service, but over one of his returns three years later, Genevieve had gotten pregnant. They’d both been thrilled with the news, and Liam left again on tour eight weeks later. He’d found out while he was in Afghanistan that she miscarried. Completely normal, a natural process, Genevieve had reiterated her doctor’s words. It was survival of the fittest. They’d been devastated but agreed to try again the next time around. Except when Liam returned, Genevieve’s mind had changed. She didn’t want anything to do with being pregnant or having kids. She was done. Liam closed his eyes, remembering the conversation. It had broken his heart, but he figured she’d come around, it would only take a little time. Genevieve never came around. Instead, when he came home for good, she served him divorce papers.
Now she was married, and it was more than time to move on. Charla Taylor could be the ticket. He thought of her naked silhouette against his sheets. It was a sight he wanted to remember forever. She was beautiful and kind and witty as hell. He hadn’t planned on sleeping
with her last night. He’d actually wanted to savor that tension between them. He wanted to get to know her better, find out what made her tick. But he couldn’t help himself last night. He needed her and not because he thought she’d tell him about Jack. That was an unexpected bonus. Liam hadn’t slept with anyone since Genevieve, not that he couldn’t have and not that he didn’t come close. But every time there was a naked girl in his bed, he couldn’t push past the memory of his ex-wife. With Charla, he didn’t think of Genevieve once. In fact, Genevieve’s face seemed a little blurry in his mind this morning.
Charla could be exactly what he needed. He took one glance around him and then flipped open the envelope from Jerry. He was surprised to hear everything she’d told him about Jack’s story this morning, but not shocked. Jack hadn’t explained all the details of his disappearance in the letter, but there were enough inferences to make Liam think there was more to the family history. And there was enough information to lead Liam back to the cottage to get what Jack left behind. Liam locked that up with his guns.
It made it only more interesting that Jerry dropped the envelope in his hand last night with Mickey McGrath’s information. Coincidence, maybe. But most likely not. Mickey somehow must have got word Jack died. He wasn’t sure how much Mickey knew, but he’d get to him first.
“You’re here.” Jerry’s voice sounded behind him.
“I am,” Liam replied, not turning toward him. Jerry walked around the bench and sat down next to him.
“I didn’t think you’d come. I thought Charla would talk you out of it,” Jerry started. “Women have that effect on men. Make them see things in a fog. You just meet her?”
“Yeah.” Liam nodded his head. He didn’t know how much he wanted to get into it with Jerry. If he told him too much, he might not think he was the right guy for the job.
“Good,” Jerry said. “Maybe she’ll help you get over that ex-wife of yours.”
“Yeah, yeah. What else do you have for me?”
