The Mystery of the Claddagh Rings

by Kallie Lane

  “But if what you’re saying is true, why are the rings a matter of national security?”

  “That’s need to know information, sunshine.” Ryan reached out and ran his fingertips along her hairline, tucking a curl behind an ear. “The important thing is I find them before anyone else comes looking.”

  “Sorry. I can’t help you there.” She brushed past him for the door and opened it wide. “If you’ll excuse me, Poppy needs my help with wedding preparations.”

  Ryan moved to the threshold, his gaze serious as he huffed out a breath. “This isn’t over.”

  Fin hugged herself against the coolness of his expression until something else caught her attention. A classic, black Porsche Carrera rolled through the gates. Ramsey Carlyle—husband number three—hopped out, looking as cruel and intimidating as ever. Poppy must have invited him to the wedding. And why not? She’d never told her mother what he’d done to her. The air caught in Fin’s lungs and her hands started to shake. Involuntary tremors; Ramsey had trained her well.

  “What is it?” Closing the distance between them, Ryan laid a palm at her nape. His chin tilted in the direction of the car. “Who is that?”

  “Just one of my mother’s exes.” Fin backed out of sight from the doorway. “Please tell Poppy I’ll see her tomorrow. I’ll call the kitchen if I need anything.”

  She bolted the door and began to pace after Ryan left. Of all the rotten luck for Ramsey to show up when she wasn’t prepared to face him. What she needed was a plan to build her confidence. She wasn’t a frightened teenager anymore, although no one would guess it to look at her snazzy wardrobe of oversized shirts and jeans. Yep, she still wore them to hide her body from creepy men. But, no more. Fin hauled out the Nantucket phone directory and dialled. “Mrs. Westover? It’s Fin Murphy—”

  “Fin?” An excited squeal came through the line. “It’s Ronnie! I’m home for Christmas and helping Mom at the boutique.”

  “Oh, my gosh!” Ronnie had been her best friend in high school, although they hadn’t seen each other in the past ten years. Then again, Fin hadn’t seen anyone from her old life after moving away. “Ronnie, I forgot my suitcase in Boston and I’m desperate for clothes. Any chance you can help me choose a few items to tide me over?”

  “Are you kidding? Do you still wear a size 4?” When Fin agreed, Ronnie asked her mom to pull the swankiest clothes off the racks in her size. “How soon can you get here?”

  “Twenty minutes.” Fin paused for a beat. “Ronnie, I-I’m glad we’re going to see each other again after all these years.”

  “Believe it, honey.” Ronnie laughed. “And best of all? Ilsa, Skye, and Eden are here for the holidays, too. I’m calling them as soon as we hang up.”

  Fin locked the door and jogged to her SUV, jumped inside and booted it for Hyannis. The little boutique was on Main Street in the historic downtown area. It was a beautiful, tree-lined avenue not too far from the harbor. Christmas lights decorated store windows and were strung through the trees. The charming shops and restaurants hadn’t changed a lot since her last visit, although a few had different names.

  She grinned when she locked her car and gazed across the street to the boutique doors. Ilsa stood outside chatting on a cell phone. She looked beautiful, was still willowy and blond. Her last email had been from Anchorage where she worked for an oil company. Skye stood beside her, decked out in western boots and jeans, her auburn hair streaked from the sun. She’d followed her dream and bought a little dude ranch in Texas. Eden’s tan was a honeyed glow, her body slimmed down since high school, her dark hair cut short and curly. Fin knew she managed a pineapple plantation in Hawaii now. And Ronnie? Well, Ronnie looked the same—a tall gorgeous brunette—a supermodel sought after by hip designers in New York City. Fin often saw her gracing the covers of fashion magazines.

  With hugs and laughter, shopping took on a whole new meaning for Fin. Ronnie’s mother popped the cork on a bottle of champagne while the women caught up and browsed to their hearts’ content.

  “Where have you been, Fin?” Ilsa asked. “And why haven’t you come back to visit?”

  “I floated around Europe after graduating, working as a sous-chef in some of the best restaurants.” She gazed at her friends, appreciating the love and concern in the room. “But now I’m back for good, ladies. I’ve secured the financial backing to open my own restaurant in Boston.”

  “That is the best news!” Eden led the cheer, and then dampened the festivities with a question. “It’s because of the men in Poppy’s life that you haven’t been back, isn’t it?”

  “One man in particular,” Fin admitted. There was no point in lying, not to the women who’d pulled her through so many tough times. She raised her glass for a bit more bubbly. “All that’s changed now, except my mother invited Ramsey to attend wedding number five. He’s staying at the house, but this time, I intend to have the upper hand.”

  “You go, girl. Let us know if you need any help.” Skye checked her watch. “And guess what? I exerted a little pressure at the club and got us hair, mani, and pedi appointments. There’s nothing like the spa experience to give a woman a needed boost before she tosses out the trash, right?”

  ****

  The sun was down by the time Fin kissed everyone goodbye, promising to get together again before they went their separate ways after Christmas. She felt like a new woman—relaxed, buffed, and polished. Combined with the clothes she’d bought…well, she’d never felt so girly and in control of her life.

  Floating home on a haze of champagne, chocolate-dipped strawberries, and rekindled friendships, she pulled up to the guesthouse. Music and voices from the main house carried on the breeze. Poppy’s guests had arrived, the drive filled with expensive cars. Fin hummed a few bars of “Genie in a Bottle” while she pulled the shopping bags from the CR-V and danced to the door in her new black leather boots, matching jacket, and designer jeans. Everything fit her like a glove, including the white cashmere sweater she wore under the jacket. And, yes, it felt wonderful to be dressed like a woman. Plus, she’d gotten a discount from Ronnie’s mom, easing the strain on her pocketbook.

  She sighed with contentment. Just another few months and her dream would become a reality. She’d already bought the restaurant location—thanks to her financial backer—the pretty stone cottage overlooking Boston harbor. As for unfinished business, all she had to do was find the rightful owner of the Claddagh rings and return them—if Ryan was telling the truth and Poppy had no legal claim to them. And she needed to deal with Ramsey. Her newfound confidence said she could handle both.

  Look out world. Here I come!

  She turned the key in the lock. The lights didn’t come on when she flipped the wall switch. Dropping the bags on the couch, she tried a table lamp. Nothing happened. She stiffened when the smell of sweat and dirty clothes hit her, heavy breathing blowing tendrils of hair across her nape. Someone stood behind her in the dark. Grabbing a metal bookend, she spun fast, swinging it with all her strength. It bounced off an arm and crashed to the carpet. The man was built like a gorilla, his silhouette towering over her in the dim outside lighting. He grabbed her by the collar and shoved her against the picture window. Her back hit, cracking the glass. Pain racked her spine. She panicked, fighting for breath against his chest.

  He wore a ski mask, his flat gaze staring out at her through the holes. “I want the rings.”

  “I-I don’t have them.” He tightened his hold on her neck and squeezed. Fin’s vision blurred, her air supply all but choked off. She’d be dead in a few seconds if he didn’t release the pressure.

  “Listen, ya little bitch. You don’t woont to make me angry. Give me the rings!”

  He loosened his grip for a second and she lashed out. Her boot connected with his shin. He doubled over and let out a roar. She kneed him in the face. Leaping over the couch, she raced to the bathroom and shot the bolt. Frantic, she opened the medicine cabinet, searching for anything she could use as a weapon. He
threw his weight against the door. No time. Fin was halfway out the window when the doorframe splintered. She shrieked when his hands gripped her ankles, dragging her back inside. Her knees slammed down on the edge of the tub. Heaving her to her feet, he spun her into the mirror. Glass shattered and blood dripped down her temple.

  The cold barrel of a gun tapped her cheek. “I won’t ask ya again. Where are the fookin’ rings?”

  ****

  Ryan entered the guesthouse through the open front door. He pulled his Glock, instinct calling the shots. Fin was in trouble. She had parked in the drive five minutes ago, yet the lights were still off inside the cottage. A crash sounded in the bathroom, a man’s voice shouting. He raced toward the sound, bumping into the couch in the dark. A small cylinder rolled out from under, caught the ball of his foot, and sent him flying. A hiss sounded as he face-planted on the floor, a cloud of vapor shooting from the can. Fin’s pepper spray! Damn, he was choked and blinded within a couple of seconds.

  Lurching to his feet, he plowed into a wall. Wiping the worst of it on a sleeve, he leaned against the plaster. He couldn’t breathe, needed to wash his face to get rid of the stuff.

  He heard something bang at the back of the house. Someone rushed toward him. Fin, he recognized her footsteps. “It’s okay, the jerk went out a window. You scared him off.”

  “I can’t see worth a damn.” Grabbing his arm, Fin led him to the kitchen sink and turned on the taps. Still gasping, Ryan holstered his Glock, soaking his head under the faucet for a good two minutes. He checked Fin over while he dried off with a dishtowel. “Are you okay? There’s a nick at your hairline.”

  “It’s nothing serious.” Fin reached for a paper towel to dab at the blood. “It’s just a scratch.”

  “You want to tell me what happened?” Of course she didn’t, he could see it in her eyes. “Who was he? What did he want?”

  “If I tell you, you have to keep it to yourself until after the wedding.” She licked her bottom lip, something he’d noticed she did when she was nervous. It drove him crazy on a whole other level. “I don’t want Poppy upset before her big day.”

  Wasn’t that a crock of crap? Hell, Fin thought she could play him. “Think again, sunshine. Let’s try for the real reason you want me to keep silent.”

  “Look, he was after the rings, okay?” Fin tossed the paper towel in the garbage, squaring her shoulders. “But the truth is, if my mother finds out she’s liable to tweet about it or do another television interview to create more publicity for herself.”

  “That’s another lie. You’re afraid for her, worried someone else will come after her.” Ryan shook his head to clear it. His eyes still stung, but at least he could see again. “Describe the man to me. What did he look like?”

  “A big guy, built like a wrestler. I couldn’t see much in the dark and he wore a ski mask. But he spoke with an Irish accent.” Fin moved into the living room, holding her breath as she crossed to open the windows. “We need to air this place out.”

  “Which reminds me…” He wrapped an arm around her waist and reeled her in. “Did you forget to pick up your pepper spray earlier after our little tussle on the floor?”

  “Hmm, guess I forgot.”

  “I guess you did.” He curled a strand of her hair around his fingers. She smelled like a tropical rain forest, sensuous and exotic, tempting him to forget the mission and lose himself in her scent. He backed off a couple of inches. “Do you know where the rings are?”

  “Yes, Mom gave them to me this morning for safekeeping. But you’ll never find them.” She tipped her head to gaze up at him, her blue eyes daring him to think otherwise. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll give them to you after the ceremony if you promise not to involve Poppy in this. And that’s only if I think you’re on the level.”

  “No dice, sweetheart. Your mother’s already involved—she’s had the rings for almost twenty-eight years.” Eyes narrowed, he studied the stubborn tilt of her chin. Figured she’d already made up her mind and would hold out until she got what she wanted. “This is a dangerous game you’re playing.”

  “Take it or leave it, O’Shea. It’s up to you.” She flashed him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Besides, you’re here to protect us. Right?”

  “Damn, woman, you’re not making this easy.” He hauled her back when she tried to turn away. “What difference does it make whether you give them to me now or later, as long as I don’t upset your mother?”

  “That should be obvious.” The thin thread of humor in her voice reeked of sarcasm. “I don’t know who you are and I don’t trust you. For all I know, you’re as rotten as the guy who came at me with a gun.”

  “Think about it, Fin.” Ryan touched a hand to her collarbone and felt a spark of heat. Everything about her attracted him—from her looks, to her intelligence, to her spunk. “If I wasn’t on the level, I’d have hogtied you, Poppy, and her fiancée this morning before anyone else arrived. Gotten the rings and taken off.”

  “Not with the cook and housekeeper inside to call the cops. No, I’ve made up my mind. You won’t get your hands on them until I know why people are after them.” She folded her arms across her chest and shot him a glare. “Do we have a deal or not?”

  “You drive a hard bargain.” Ryan knew she’d checkmated him and then some. Hell, he’d been outwitted by a master negotiator. “But, I have one sticking point. You move into the main house where you’ll be safe and then I’ll agree. We can shake on it.”

  She thought about it. He could practically see the wheels turning inside her head. The hell with it, she wouldn’t get away with calling the shots without suffering the consequences. When she finally offered up a handshake, he ignored it and touched down on her lips. Heard her sharp intake of breath and didn’t much care. Her taste hinted of strawberries and chocolate, warm and sweet. Oh yeah, he wanted a whole lot more. But for now, it was enough. “Just sealing the deal with a kiss, sunshine.”

  “Whatever,” she said, clearly rattled. At least she hadn’t pushed him away. “I’ll get my things.”

  Ryan followed her around while she gathered her unpacked suitcase, backpack, and shopping bags. “You’re sporting a different look since I saw you this morning. Very nice, but what’s with the new clothes and makeup?”

  She handed him her rollaway, staring at the floor. “I needed a morale booster before greeting Poppy’s guests.”

  Sure she did, especially if this had anything to do with Ramsey Carlyle. Ryan had checked him out earlier. The guy was a pervert with two complaints filed against him for inappropriate behavior with teenage girls. The charges were dropped in both cases, but he suspected large amounts of money had changed hands to make it happen. “Is this about your stepfather?”

  “Let it go, O’Shea.” Determination tightened Fin’s jaw as she locked up the guesthouse. “I’ll handle him myself.”

  Ryan scanned the shadows as they walked, a hand on his weapon. While it bothered him Fin planned to go up against Ramsey, what concerned him more was how the gorilla in the guesthouse had known she had the rings. A gnawing feeling clawed at his gut. Either the security system had been high-jacked and someone had seen Poppy give her the rings, or one of the wedding guests was involved.

  He entered the main house through a side door, following Fin up a narrow back staircase he imagined was used by the servants. Noise filtered from the front of the house. The party was in full swing; raucous laughter and voices carried on the steady thump of drums and riffs from electric guitars. Paul must be getting his groove on with his band.

  Fin paused at a door on the second floor, seemed to steady herself before turning the handle. He understood why when she flipped on the lights. “This is my room. Welcome to the time warp.”

  No kidding? Ryan couldn’t believe his eyes when his gaze landed on the frou-frou canopy bed, frilly curtains, and shelves of Barbie and Ken dolls with accessories lining a far wall. Everything was pink, from the pleated shades on the lamps to the scatt
er rugs on the floor. “This is the room of a seven or eight-year-old girl.”

  “Oh, I know.” Fin’s mouth curved into a sad semblance of a smile. “Poppy kept it the same after I reached puberty. She didn’t want to acknowledge I was growing up, since that meant she was getting older, too.”

  “I’m sorry.” For the first time in a long time, he was at a loss for words.

  “Don’t be. I survived.” Fin opened a cupboard door, shook out the new clothes she pulled from shopping bags, and hung them on hangers. “But maybe now you’ll understand why I’m so protective of my mother. She lives in her own world most of the time.”

  True. And Ryan understood a lot more. His heart expanded in his chest for this woman who had somehow survived an unbearable childhood and grown into the person she was today. Jesus, how could anyone be so level-headed and strong under the circumstances? She deserved more.

  For some inexplicable reason, he wanted to be the man to give it to her. He knew she wasn’t someone he could mess with—a convenient and pleasurable hookup. No, Fin’s emotions were raw, on the surface for everyone but a blind man to see. He wouldn’t betray the tenuous thread of trust he saw growing in her eyes whenever she looked at him. She’d been disappointed too many times, but wouldn’t be by him.

  Chapter Three

  Fin opened her eyes and turned on a lamp, shuddering when she realized she was back in the pink room. The good news? She wasn’t a kid anymore. The bad news? She couldn’t lay in her childhood bed another minute. Dressing in sweats, she took the back stairs to the dining room, breathing a sigh of relief when she didn’t run into anyone. The house was quiet. The others must still be sleeping. She imagined the party had lasted most of the night. After pouring a mug of coffee from the urn on the sideboard, she grabbed Poppy’s old coat from the mudroom and slipped outside.

  An icy blast of wind blew across her neck. She snuggled deeper into the sheepskin jacket, walking around to the front of the house, away from the wind. Daylight was still an hour away. Cheery Christmas lights around the windows tinkled against the glass. Tomorrow was Christmas day, but she didn’t feel like celebrating, not with Poppy’s entourage—especially Ramsey—in the house. Her mother’s wedding would be the day after, then hopefully everyone would disappear. If only she could sneak off to the guesthouse, light a fire, and enjoy her coffee in peace. She nixed the idea, knowing O’Shea would catch her with video surveillance. Besides, she’d given him her word.