by Zara Keane
He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “We need to get you to a doctor. And then we’re calling the cops.”
“No.” Kaylee grabbed his wrist before he could dial the number for the local hospital. “Please, Shane. No doctors. No cops. Until I find another place to stay, I have to be careful.”
“You have a place to stay. My apartment’s not big, but we’ll manage until we find an alternative.”
His sister hunched her narrow shoulders. “I can’t ask that of you. There’s not enough space for all of us. I’ve managed to hide a bit of cash. I was going to stay at a hotel for a few days, just until I find an alternative.”
“Hotels and hostels are the first places Reuben will look.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think he’ll check out your place?”
“Of course he will.” Shane’s jaw tightened. “And I’ll be waiting for him. Look, you and the kids can have my bedroom. I don’t mind sleeping on the sofa until we find a new place for you to live. I just got a puppy. The boys will be delighted. And if we find a more secure place for you to stay, all the better.”
She bit her lip, clearly torn. “I don’t want you to get into trouble.”
“I’m already on Reuben’s shit list over a different situation,” Shane said with a grimace. “Right now, my priority is getting you and the children away from here.”
His sister displayed the first hint of a smile since he’d arrived. “What did you do to piss off Rueben?”
Shane noticed how careful she was to name the man instead of referring to him as her husband. He rolled with it. The sooner the rat was no longer related to them, the better. “Long story short, he kidnapped my friend’s brother over an unpaid debt. I helped her negotiate his release. If ‘negotiate’ is the correct term to use where Reuben is concerned.”
Kaylee’s face displayed no flicker of surprise at the news that her husband had kidnapped a guy. “Reuben likes screwing with people. Your friend and her brother should stay away from him.”
“They’d like nothing better, but there’s the not-so-small matter of the unpaid debts.” He moved past his sister and headed toward the stairs. “Come on. I’ll help you pack. I’ll respect your request not to see a doctor as long as you let Dan have a look at your wounds. He can put his paramedic training to good use. I need to swing by the Triskelion Team offices in any case.”
His sister glanced at her watch. “We’ll need to hurry with the packing. Rueben isn’t due back for another few hours, but I wouldn’t put it past him to show up early, just to mess with my head.”
Shane didn’t ask where the man was. He didn’t want to know. Reuben was either screwing one of his many other women, or breaking some poor fucker’s face. He’d tried to talk to his sister on numerous occasions about her husband’s infidelity and bad treatment of her, but Kaylee had shut him down as soon as he started. He’d reached the conclusion that it was better not to push her on the issue, in case she shut him out of her life and he wasn’t around to help her if and when she asked for help.
It seemed today was that day.
The moment Ruthie got back to her dad’s house, she put her plan into action. Armed with an accouterment of electronic equipment and a pot of coffee strong enough to wake the dead, she set up camp in her dad’s office. Big Mike and Kevin were still asleep upstairs, but her father would be up soon to walk the dogs.
While her fingers flew over her laptop keyboard, she sifted through the information she had on Emma Reilly. Born Gemma McEllroy in Northern Ireland, she’d been orphaned after an I.R.A. explosion had claimed the lives of her entire family. She’d been initially taken into the witness protection program and later placed with a foster family. A few years later, this family had adopted her, thus completing Gemma McEllroy’s transformation into Emma Reilly. It must have been quite a shock when her dead sister had strolled into her office a few weeks ago…
Ruthie scrolled through Emma’s curriculum vitae. After a number of short-lived careers including actress, street performer, yoga teacher, and barista, she’d set up shop as a private detective. Despite her unconventional background experience, she’d proven to be good at her job, if chronically underpaid. Emma’s tendency to take pro bono clients didn’t lead to a healthy bank balance and might have prompted her decision to accept private investigation work for the Triskelion Team on a freelance basis.
Ruthie leaned back in her chair. The internet search on Emma had shed no new light on her character and certainly didn’t provide magical access to her computer files. That would require a little more work on Ruthie’s part. A solid hour later, she’d hacked into Emma’s phone.
Unfortunately for the Jarvis Agency, Emma Reilly wasn’t stupid. No text messages of interest leaped out and pointed a trail to the Delaney family. While Emma recorded client appointments on her digital calendar, she used code names to hide their identities. Luckily for Ruthie, Emma didn’t afford her sister the same caution. Next Wednesday afternoon had been blocked off with a single entry: Gen—Dundrum Shopping Centre—2 PM.
Bingo.
With a smile of satisfaction, Ruthie refilled her coffee cup and sat back in the chair to plot her next move.
16
Shane punched in the code for the Triskelion Team’s headquarters, and the elevator doors slid shut. Tension oozed from his sister and nephews. Robbie clutched Shane’s hand. The worried expression on his little face tugged at Shane’s heartstrings. RJ clung to his mother, his lips set in a grim line. Kaylee’s haggard appearance was a far cry from the vivacious young woman she’d been before she’d hooked up with Reuben Kowalski. A muscle in his jaw twitched. How could the man inflict such damage on the very people he was supposed to love and protect?
He gave the boys a reassuring smile. “You’re going to love Flash, my new puppy.” That, of course, was assuming the dog didn’t destroy the apartment before the kids got there.
A flicker of a smile appeared on Robbie’s face, but RJ’s scowl deepened. “I like dogs,” Robbie said. “Does Flash play catch?”
“I haven’t had a chance to teach him yet.” He swallowed the words, Maybe you can help me, and met his sister’s eye. They both knew that taking the boys to the park to play with the dog was out of the question. Too many people in Kilpatrick would recognize them by sight.
“You sure about this?” Kaylee punctuated her question with a frown that drew Shane’s attention back to the bruise on her forehead and her swollen eye. His nails dug into his palms. When he got his hands on Kowalski, he’d make the fucker pay.
“I’m positive,” he said as the elevator shuddered to a halt. “We need help, and Lar and Dan are the guys to provide it.”
The metal doors slid open. Shane ushered Kaylee and the boys out of the elevator and through the bulletproof glass doors that separated the hallway from the Triskelion Team’s offices.
“This is posh,” Kaylee murmured, taking in the plush leather sofa and the sleek glass-and-chrome reception desk. “Where did Lar get the cash for all this?”
Shane’s jaw tightened. From selling us out to Irish intelligence. “Lar was always good with money.”
Imelda, one of their many cousins, sat behind the reception desk, filing her nails. Her eyes widened when she clocked Kaylee’s face. “Jaysus, look at the state of you, girl. What happened?”
Kaylee grimaced. “Reuben happened.”
“Please tell me you’ve left him.” Imelda wielded her nail file as one would a weapon. “Did you knee him in the balls?”
Kaylee’s nostrils flared. “Not yet, but I intend to.”
“Mummy, I need to pee.” Robbie did a little dance to emphasize the point.
“So do I.” RJ imitated his brother’s back-and-forth movements.
“Bathroom is down the corridor,” Shane said. “Second door on the left.”
“I’ll go with them.” Kaylee gave a wan smile. “Just in case they try to flood the place.”
When Kaylee and her sons had left in search
of the toilets, Shane turned to Imelda and jerked a thumb at Lar’s closed office door. “Are the lads in?”
Imelda shrugged. “I guess so. I didn’t see them leave, but I wouldn’t put climbing down walls past Dan. Do you remember the time he scared the shite out of Siobhan by scaling the wall up to our flat?”
Given that Imelda and her family had been living in a tenth-floor apartment at the time, that was no mean feat. Shane grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes. Can you bring us in coffee? And maybe entertain the boys for a while?”
Imelda rolled her heavily kohled eyes in an exaggerated fashion. “I go out to work to get away from the twins and now you’re saddling me with more kids?”
Orlando and Mickey, Imelda’s demonic offspring, were notorious in the Delaney family for their ability to create havoc wherever they went. The last time the twins had visited Shane’s apartment, they’d locked him and Imelda out on the balcony and proceeded to ransack his collection of vintage porn magazines. He hadn’t invited them back.
Shane sighed and reached for his wallet. “I’ll pay you extra.”
“Deal,” Imelda said, pocketing the proffered fifty-euro note. “I’ll find shite on YouTube for them to watch. The twins love that.”
When Kaylee and the boys reappeared, Imelda supplied the youngsters with glasses of milk and an iPad.
“Behave yourselves,” Kaylee said, and kissed each boy on the cheek.
“Ah, we’ll be grand,” Imelda said, waving her freshly lacquered nails. “They can’t be any worse than the twins. Sure, how much mischief can they get into in thirty minutes?”
Shane winked at Kaylee and steered her toward Lar’s office. “If Orlando and Mickey are anything to go by,” he whispered when Imelda was out of earshot, “two boys can cause mass destruction in thirty seconds, never mind thirty minutes.”
For the first time that day, Kaylee’s laugh was heartfelt. “Thankfully, Robbie and RJ are better behaved than the twins. Most of the time.”
Shane knocked on Lar’s office door. A moment later, it swung open to reveal a grinning Lar and Dan. Their smiles faded the instant they registered Kaylee’s injuries.
“What the hell?” Lar demanded, then his jaw set in a hard line. “The bastard.”
Dan’s fingers curled into fists. “I’ll fucking kill him.”
“No one’s killing anyone,” Shane said firmly. “At least, not yet. Can you take a look at Kaylee’s wounds, Dan? The one over her eye needs stitches.”
“Sure.” Dan took Kaylee’s arm. “Come on. I have a first aid kit in my office. We’ll leave these two to plot.”
Dan and Kaylee left just as Imelda arrived with their coffees. Shane’s was a frothy latte, liberally doused with caramel sauce. His cousin might lack the tact preferable in a receptionist, but she made a damn fine coffee. “Thanks,” he said, taking a grateful sip of the sweet beverage.
“No bother.” Imelda narrowed her eyes. “Please tell me you’re going to beat the shite out of Kowalski.”
“I’d like nothing better than to kneecap the fucker,” Shane said, “but we need to push our anger aside and look at the big picture. We have to do whatever will keep Kaylee and the boys safe.”
“Ever the philosopher,” Lar said dryly. “You were always the sensible one. I envy your ability to keep your emotions in check.”
Shane bit back an acid retort. Lar was correct. Concealing his feelings and controlling his emotions were skills he’d honed over the years. Growing up with Frank as a father, they were essential.
After Imelda had closed the door behind her, Lar slid behind his desk, and Shane dropped into the seat opposite. It was the first time they’d been alone in a room for weeks. The resentment that had been burning inside of Shane rose to the surface. His grip on the coffee cup tightened. Time to put his lauded skill set to use.
Lar leaned back in his chair and cradled his coffee cup between his palms. “So, spill. What’s the story with Kaylee?”
“As you’ve probably guessed, she wants to file for divorce. Until things are settled, she needs a safe place to stay. Somewhere Reuben won’t find them. We run a private security firm. Who better to protect them than us?”
“Of course. Kaylee and the boys are family. Delaneys look after their own.”
Except when we don’t. An image of seventeen-year-old Lar loomed in Shane’s memory. Dad and Uncle Patrick should have looked after him. Instead, they’d manipulated an impressionable boy into taking the fall for a crime he didn’t commit. Shane’s rational side understood Lar’s decision to trade family loyalty for freedom, but his emotional side wasn’t ready to let go of the hurt.
Lar took a sip of espresso, his brows drawn together in contemplation. “Do you have a place in mind for them to stay? If not, I might have a solution.”
“If you have a suggestion, I’m all ears. I thought of my apartment, but that’s not going to work for more than a few hours. As soon as Reuben realizes Kaylee’s left him, he’ll be on the war path.”
“And the first place he’ll look for her is your apartment,” Lar finished for him.
“Exactly.” Shane’s lips formed a grim line. “He’ll know Kaylee won’t go to our father for help, and our brothers are useless. Greg’s too busy beating up his own women to care about Reuben hitting Kaylee, and Tom hates confrontation.”
“I have a holiday cottage in Wicklow that I rent out to tourists,” Lar said carefully. “It’s a five-minute walk from Brittas Bay.”
Lar owning a rental cottage was news to Shane, but he rolled with it. No doubt his cousin was involved in plenty of schemes whereby he could invest the money he wasn’t supposed to have. “Is it vacant at the moment?” he asked. “Like, could they move in today?”
“Yeah. I’ve had it renovated. If Kaylee and the boys don’t mind the smell of paint, it’s theirs. The next group of holidaymakers won’t arrive until August.”
“I’m sure the boys would love spending the summer at the beach.” The words weighed heavily on Shane’s tongue. Seeking Lar’s help was the smart move, even if it chafed at the raw wound left by his cousin’s betrayal. If Shane could have guaranteed Kaylee and the boys’ safety, he’d have kept their cousins out of the loop, but only a fool would underestimate Reuben Kowalski. The man was a dangerous motherfucker. In contrast to Shane playing the lone wolf, the Triskelion Team had access to resources such as weapons, surveillance equipment, and highly trained bodyguards, all of which would come in handy in the weeks to come.
He sighed. He’d made his decision before he’d walked into Lar’s office and asked for help. “If we send them to Wicklow, I want them to have round-the-clock protection.”
Lar nodded. “That’s Dan’s department, but I’m sure he can arrange it, even if it means us taking turns until we have a team in place.”
“Whatever’s needed, I’m game.”
“I’ll discuss the details with Dan. In the meantime, Kaylee and the boys can stay here.”
“I promised them I’d introduce them to Flash.”
The corners of Lar’s mouth quirked. “Are you planning to train him as a guard dog?”
“Given his behavior, that would take a miracle.”
Now that they’d discussed Kaylee’s situation, an awkward silence descended.
Shane broke it by extracting two folders from his backpack and sliding them across the desk. “Here’s the Donnelly file, plus an update on my investigation into attack on The Lucky Leprechaun.”
Lar picked up the file on The Lucky Leprechaun and opened it. “Anything significant to report?”
“My progress has been frustratingly slow. I keep hitting brick walls.” Not to mention the fact that digging into Lar’s shady past was taking up far too much of his time. “The only potentially interesting discovery is that two members of staff died in the months after the attack.”
Lar’s head jerked up from his perusal of the folder. “Anything mysterious about their deaths?”
“On the surface, no. A doorman
named Jared Klune was killed in a car accident two months after the shootings. The official cause of death was a head injury. The pathologist expressed some doubt as to whether Klune could have sustained this particular injury by hitting his head against the steering wheel of the car, but the police found no reason to investigate further.”
“Hmm.” Lar flicked through the file. “What about the stripper, Marlene Thomas?”
“She died of a heroin overdose,” Shane said. “Unlike Klune, she’d been present on the day of the attack and survived by barricading herself in a storeroom.”
“Anything odd about the overdose?”
“According to the police, no. However, Marlene’s friends insisted she didn’t take drugs and would never have injected herself with heroin. For what it’s worth, the pathologist found no track marks and concluded she’d relapsed after a period of being clean.”
“Let me guess—the police didn’t follow up on the friends’ claims because Marlene stripped for a living?”
“That’s my conclusion.” Shane sighed. “Like I said, the two deaths might not be connected to the shootings, but Marlene’s, in particular, bothers me.”
“What’s the plan?” Lar asked. “You going to dig deeper?”
“Yeah. I’d like to follow it up. Try to track down two of Marlene’s friends who gave statements.”
Lar blew out his cheeks. “Frank’s been breathing down my neck about this case. He wants results.”
“Patience was never one of my father’s strong suits. We told him we’d do our best and in our own time.”
His cousin drained his espresso and eyed Shane. “Might be smart to have someone trail Kowalski for a while. Make sure he remains clueless.”
“Yeah. Let’s put the new guy, John Molloy, on the case. He’s had army training in surveillance. As long as I can bring Flash with me, I can take tonight’s shift watching over Kaylee and the boys.”
Lar frowned. “Okay, but I’m thinking it’s smarter to do rotations in pairs. If Kowalski does show up, he won’t come alone. Why don’t we see if Dan and one of the other guys can cover the afternoon and early evening? Then you and I can stay overnight. We can even bring your dog down with us to amuse the boys.”
