by LJ Garland
Text copyright ©2017 by the Author.
This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Maribeth Carmichael. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Wild Irish remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Maribeth Carmichael, or their affiliates or licensors.
For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds
His Wild Bride
A Wild Irish/MacKay Destiny Crossover
By
L.J. Garland
His Wild Bride
A Wild Irish / MacKay Destiny Crossover
Dawson MacKay plans to open a pub with his brother, but he has a lot to learn. Taking a job for three months at Pat’s Irish Pub seems like the perfect place to acquire the finer points of running a business. The first couple months pass without a hitch—the pay is good, the information invaluable, and women hit on him every night. However, nursing a broken heart, he doesn’t take a single woman up on her offer. Then an auburn-haired beauty falls into his arms, and his world is turned upside down.
For as long as she can remember, Sophie O’Neill has always wanted to be a reporter. Digging deep and finding the truth is her passion. But then her boss sends her on the most challenging assignment yet. Determined to finish the story, she jumps in feetfirst only to find herself at the center of a nightmare. She loves being a reporter…until the story is about her.
Thrown together, Sophie and Dawson are held hostage to the whims of destiny. And though neither believes in love at first sight, they find themselves falling hard and fast for one another. But time is running out. And the nightmare stalking Sophie is closer than either of them realizes.
Table of Contents
His Wild Bride
A Note from L.J. Garland
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by L.J. Garland
A Note from L.J. Garland
Dear Reader~
When I was invited to write for Mari Carr’s Wild Irish Kindle World, I couldn’t wait. My MacKay Destiny characters would fit this world perfectly! And so Dawson and Sophie came to life, destined to fall in love…but, as always, they wouldhave to earn their happy ever after.
I’d like to thank Mari Carr for inviting me to write for Wild Irish. I’m honored. I hope I did your wonderful world as well as Pat’s Irish Pub justice.
Thanks to Kate Richards for your expert knowledge, support, and friendship. And for all the other wonderful things you do. Hugs!
To my parents for believing in me. Thank you for standing behind me and loving me. I’m truly blessed!
To my family for…well, everything. To my boys for being understanding and giving Mom some “quiet time.” And to my amazing husband, Jeff. Without you, this whole “writing thing” would’ve never happened. You’re my rock, my soul mate, best friend, and the love of my life. Always and forever.
And to my readers for going on this journey with me. Thank you! I hope you get wrapped up with Sophie and Dawson’s adventure as much as I did.
I love to hear from my readers. You can write to me at [email protected].
You can also find me here:
http://lj-garland.blogspot.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LJGarland/
Twitter: @ LJ_Garland1
L.J. Garland
♥ XOXO ♥
Dedication
To my readers…
Thank you
♥
Chapter One
I’ve talked to convicted murderers, interviewed a contract killer, and even followed a SWAT team on a meth lab bust, but this latest assignment has to be the scariest yet. How the heck am I going to get through this one? I don’t know if I can do—
Snap, snap! “Earth to Sophie.” Her co-worker, Hugh Cavanaugh, snapped his fingers in front of her face again. “You okay?”
“Uh-huh.” Liar. You’re scared out of your wits. “Just planning things out.” She took a deep, fortifying gulp of her café mocha with double-shot espresso and extra whipped cream. The chocolate and smooth cream rolling across her tongue soothed her. The caffeine pumped up her resolve enough to follow through on the assignment Jackson Jacobi, her boss and the founder of tell-all website Deep Insights, had given her.
She set her drink on the table, a definite shake to her hand. Holy crud. Is that nerves? Am I nervous? No, no way. It’s just the caffeine. My fingers are trembling because I skipped breakfast this morning then dumped a boatload of coffee into an empty stomach and—
“Nervous?”
“What? Pft. No.” Sophie waved him off. “Just a caffeine rush.” Such a liar! “You nervous?”
Hugh leaned back in his chair, his dark-brown eyes assessing her. “Cool as the other side of the pillow.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yep.” He drank his coffee, the corner of his mouth kicking up as he set the cup on the table. “You, however, have been sitting here thirty minutes, nursing your café-whatever. You’re stalling.”
Busted. “Am not.” She downed the rest of her coffee then shoved to her feet. “Let’s do this.”
He rose, too. “Lead the way.”
Sophie paused by the garbage can to dispose of her empty cup.
“You know,” Hugh said, “I’m really impressed.”
“Oh?”
“When Jackson gave us this assignment, I told him no way in hell you’d follow through. That I’d probably have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you there.” He dropped his cup into the receptacle as well. “Jackson said you were a professional. That you’d never let him down and wouldn’t this time.” Hugh pushed the door open and held it for her. “And look at you now, tottering out of here on your own two ridiculously high heels.”
She smiled. “Happy to prove you wrong.”
But her exit was blocked by two big guys in uniform entering.
“Pardon us,” one of them said. He gave her face a cursory glance and then his eyes narrowed. “Well, check this out, Rob. If it isn’t Sophie O’Neill, walking around like she owns Baltimore.”
“Officers.” She moved to brush past them and out of the coffee shop, but the boys in blue blocked her.
“Anybody after you lately, Miss O’Neill?” Officer Carson set his hands on his hips, his right one a little too close to his gun.
“Yeah, our phones have been awful quiet lately,” his partner added.
“No.” Apparently, the story she’d written about the Baltimore police had rubbed them the wrong way. “Again, I apologize for the misunderstanding.”
Officer Carson nodded, his jaw set hard. “Yeah. So you said.”
Hugh stepped forward, meeting the cop’s gaze. “Unless you intend to arrest Miss O’Neill, I suggest you move out of the way, or I’ll be making a call to the mayor about police harassment.” He waved his arm out to the side. “And I have all these witnesses to corroborate my story.”
Officer Carson’s gaze jerked to the café patrons. “Well, I—”
His pa
rtner elbowed him. “Let ’em go. She’s already wasted enough of our time.”
The officers stepped to the side. But as Sophie tried to slip past, Bob leaned toward her.
“You better watch your back. Karma’s a bitch,” he murmured “And you can bet if you call us for help, it’ll be a long time coming.”
Sophie shuddered then rushed outside into the glorious fall Baltimore sunshine. She hurried down the sidewalk, wanting to put distance between herself and those officers.
Hugh bumped her shoulder with his. “Wow, you were like ice when you faced those two.”
“Yeah, well, comes with the territory, right?” She shrugged her shoulders, trying to get rid of the nerves plaguing her. They’d creeped her out—especially Officer Bob. Something about him was just a little too intense.
“Yep.” He bumped her shoulder again. “They’re just pissed because you uncovered a serious problem with the department. And to hear Jackson tell it, your story got Deep Insights quite a few new advertisers.”
“I don’t know—”
“Sophie?” A male voice called. “Sophie O’Neill?”
Jolting to a stop, she squinted at the guy heading toward her—definitely not in a police uniform, thank God. Tall, skinny, long blond hair tied back at his nape. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t remember…. “Rick?”
He stopped in front of her. “Rex.”
“Right.” She nodded. “Rex.”
The young guy grinned. “I thought that was you. It’s good to see you.”
“You, too. How’s the…?”
“Animal shelter,” he supplied.
“Yes, the animal shelter.” A breathy laugh of relief escaped her as she angled toward her co-worker. “Look, Hugh, it’s Rex from the animal shelter.”
“I can see him, Sophie. I’m standing right next to you.” He shoved out his hand. “How’s it going, Rex?”
Rex gave Hugh’s hand a one-pump shake. “Good. Just surprised to run into the best reporter in all of Baltimore out on the sidewalk.”
Her face heated. A few months ago, she’d done a nitty-gritty write-up on several shelters around town, but Rex had been the only one not to just show her where the animals were kept but also all the behind-the-scenes stuff. That night, she’d gone home and cried her eyes out. The next day, she got up and wrote a hard-hitting story and begged the citizens of Baltimore to help. “I don’t know about the best reporter.” She paused while Hugh suddenly had to clear his throat. “So, how are things at work?”
“Way better since you did that piece on how a lot of shelters are forced to put animals down because of space and money. People have been pouring in to adopt. You really made a big difference.” He grinned then gestured toward the café she and Hugh just exited. “Can I buy you a coffee to say thanks?”
“Oh, well….” Here it is, the perfect excuse to put off your latest assignment. “I’d really like—”
Hugh cupped her elbow. “She’d really like to, Rex. But we’re on the clock here.”
“Oh.” His eyes widened. “You’re working on a new story?”
She removed her elbow from her co-worker’s grip. “Yes.”
Hugh leaned forward. “And we really gotta go, man. Deadlines and all.”
“Well, yeah, of course.” Rex’s head bobbed. “Okay.”
“It was great seeing you again,” she told him.
“You, too.”
They turned to head down the sidewalk again.
“Maybe some other time,” Rex called from behind them.
Without pausing or looking back, Hugh raised his hand in the air and gave a quick wave. “Sure thing, buddy.”
“That was rude,” she murmured to her co-worker.
He leaned his head toward hers. “I’ve worked with you long enough to tell when you’re stalling.”
She balked. “I’m not stalling.”
“You are. But I won’t tell Jackson I was right so long as you face this assignment head on. Get it done. I’ve got bills to pay.”
Sophie jammed on the brakes and whirled toward him. “You mean your bookie.” Hugh had done a story on gambling addiction. Turned out, he had an addiction of his own, and, liking the rush of winning a little too much, he’d found himself hooked as a result of the story.
“Yeah.” He shoved his fingers through his light-brown hair.
“You really should get some help, Hugh.” She hated seeing him fight a battle he probably couldn’t win on his own.
He frowned, his tanned brow furrowing. “You’re my help, Sophie.” Grasping her elbow again, he steered her down the sidewalk. “Just know that my kneecaps are depending on us finishing this story.” He picked up his pace. “So, I’ve got my part of the assignment, and you’ve got yours. Let’s get this ball rolling.”
Resigned to her fate, she sighed. “Fine.”
An hour later, she stared at herself in the mirror, hyperventilating. “Ohmigod. Ohmigod. Ohmigod.”
“Everything all right in there,” a saleslady called through the door.
“Y-yes. Everything’s fine.” She tried to sound confident, but her falsetto tone and voice crack probably indicated otherwise.
“I can do this,” she told herself. She teetered on her stilettos. The room tipped. She took a deep breath and held it, willing her racing heart to slow. She wondered once again if perhaps she had leukophobia. But that would be… “Crazy.”
The saleswoman knocked on the door. “Can I get you something else to try?”
“No. This one’s good.” She dared to gaze into the mirror again. Miles of white lace. Mounds of white tulle. A river of white satin. Buttons, pearls, sequins, appliques. Oh my God she was drowning in this ocean of a dress. She set her hands on her hips, the bodice tightening by the second and making her waist incredibly tiny while pushing her boobs up to her chin. Which was insane because she wasn’t that gifted in the breast department and her waist most certainly wasn’t small. My God any moment the thing would pop her in two. What size had the saleswoman given her? She needed something bigger. Something she could breathe in.
Something other than a wedding dress.
The dressing room door opened, and the badgering saleswoman poked her head inside. “Knock, knock.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, wow. You look amazing. It fits you perfectly.”
Perfectly, says the hangman as he tightens the noose.
Pull it together, Sophie. It’s just fabric.
But so much white fabric. She fanned herself with her hand. Is it like a million degrees in here?
“Aw, don’t cry, honey. You look lovely.” The saleslady invaded her space. “And just so you get the full effect, I brought you the crowning touch.” She held up a veil.
Sophie struggled not to back away. Before she could blink, the woman had it attached in place, the soft netting dotted with pearls skimming over her bare shoulders.
“Close your eyes,” she told her.”
Sophie shut her eyes, and, for some reason, that made the whole situation better. But then the woman slowly turned her around.
“Okay. Open.”
Sophie cracked her eyelids. And stared.
“Just beautiful,” the woman cooed. “Like a fairy princess.”
Not quite. But if she didn’t move, she could pretend she was looking at someone else in a wedding dress. “Would you mind taking a picture?” She gestured toward her cell phone sitting on the chair next to her purse.
“Sure, honey.”
Click. Click.
“Smile….”
Sophie imagined getting her dream call from the Baltimore Sun asking to hire her.
Click.
“Just lovely.” The saleswoman set the phone next to Sophie’s purse on the chair. “I may have one other dress you might like. Let me see if I can find it.” Without waiting for a reply, she left.
Sophie sighed. She’d done it, gotten through the hardest part of her assignment. Leaning over, she picked up her phone and called Hugh.
“What�
��s up? Did you bail?” His voice held a note of mocking concern.
“Nope. And I have the pictures to prove it.” She smiled. At last I’ve overcome my silly phobia of seeing myself in a wedding dress. She glanced in the mirror, and her pulse skyrocketed. She turned away. Okay, so I’m not completely cured yet. “What about you?”
“Me? I was done getting fitted for a tux half an hour ago. I’m at a sports bar down the street. You should come down, have a drink to settle your nerves.”
“Sounds good. But I may be a while. The saleslady went to get another dress for me to try.”
“Wait. You got pictures of the first dress, right?”
“Yes.”
He chuckled. “You’re done, then. The woman who vowed to stay single so she could focus on her career can now leave the bridal shop.” Silence filled the line for a moment. “And Sophie?”
“Yes.”
“Thanks for saving my kneecaps.”
“Yeah, yeah. See you in a little while.” She ended the call and dropped her phone on the chair. Was what he said true? Sure, she talked about her dream of getting on at the Sun, and maybe she hadn’t dated anyone seriously for the last few years. But never get married?
Do I want to travel down that road?
Ping!
Her phone alerted her she had a message. She picked it up, expecting to find Hugh had texted her the sports bar’s address but was surprised to find a message logged in her PicTalk account. She tapped the screen, opening the app. Okay, so not a message but a video. Curious, she hit the play icon.
Hi, Sexy. Can you keep a secret?
The words dissolved into a photo of her with her index finger to her lips.
He doesn’t deserve you.
A picture of Hugh appeared.
The words Stay away from him flashed at the bottom of the photo followed with Or he dies.
A red dot from a rifle laser sight popped onto Hugh’s forehead.
Sophie gasped. “Oh my God.”
