a Touch of Revenge (Romantic Mystery - book 6): The Everly Gray Adventures (17 page)

It was when the Yard version of an FBI profiler led me to his office for a “quick chat” that things went a bit skewy. I’d shared the pictures I took of Fion Connor’s secret room, and apparently the inspectors were concerned about my reaction.

I answered their questions honestly. Yeah, it was damn scary. No, I hadn’t realized Connor had been stalking me all of my life. Yes, I thought she was mentally ill. No, my parents had never mentioned her. And the ringer: yes, I’d shoot her again in the same circumstances.

The inspector tapped his pen against pursed lips.

Reliving the scene had kicked my sanity back where it belonged. I scooted my chair back, stood. “I’m done here.”

He got that wild-eyed, startled look I seem to bring out in men, so I simplified the facts. “Connor was pointing a loaded Glock at Pierce, for God’s sake. And she said he was
expendable
. Expendable, my ass.” I exited the office, and maybe closed the door a titch more forcefully than necessary. Expendable. It pissed me off.

Halfway down the hall I came to a dead stop. Well, then. Apparently I
cared
about Tynan Pierce. Oh, I’d always loved him. As an interesting friend. As a man who could teach me so many things about covert life that I’d need in my quest for revenge. Things no one else knew, much less would be willing to teach me. I even loved him as a damn-but-you-make-my-hormones-happy kind of guy, not that I’d considered indulging said hormones.

But this was different. My soul had noticed him. I locked that bit of newly-minted intel away and poked my nose into the office where I’d left Pierce with his Yard buddy and the attorney. “You ready to go?”

Pierce gave me a quick once-over, eyes narrowed, and then his pupils dilated.

Did I look different? Was it visible, how he’d wiggled his way into my soul?

“Yeah. Ready.” He stood, shared a complicated handshake with his buddy, kissed his attorney on the cheek, and escorted me out of the building. “We have a ten-hour drive,” he said. “You okay with taking over when we hit M6? It’s a straight shot for about eighty miles.”

I stopped, caught his hand. “Where are we going?”

“Ireland. Eamon Grady.” The color had leached from his face again.

Not ready to confront whatever was knocking the stuffing out of Tynan Pierce, I tried to keep it light. “There’s water between here and there. Lot’s of water.”

He grinned. “Ferry.”

We took turns sleeping and driving. We each stopped once for gas and to get coffee and snacks while the other one slept. Finally, about forty miles south of Dublin we were both awake and coherent at the same time, and my curiosity took full advantage. “Do you know where Eamon Grady is?”

Pierce nodded. “Yes.”

“That sign said we’re heading for County Cork.”

“They got the sign right.”

“Does Grady live in Cork?” My patience was thinning, and my curiosity was about to flash-fire.

“Yes.”

I slapped his arm with the back of my hand. “Do I have to touch you?”

Silence.

“In this situation, shutting me out is dangerous. You know that, so why are you—?”

He flung his arm across my body. “Just do it.”

A shiver settled at the base of my spine, and I knew, just knew, that touching Pierce was going to change my life forever. It wasn’t logical. There was no reason that this was different from any other time my fingertips had trespassed into his private world. Except for the gray tint to his skin, and the secrets he was keeping from me. Okay. This
was
different. In the past, he’d been hiding super spy stuff. This time he was knee-deep in personal angst of some sort.

Pierce shot me a glance. “It’s not that bad, Belisama. It’ll just be easier for both of us if I show you.”

My breath hitched. “It’s not something that can be undone, Pierce. My fingers, no, it’s really my mind that can’t erase what my fingers see.”

“Got that.” His hand fisted, relaxed. “We’re a few hours from…home. Better get to it, because you’re gonna want time to process.”

“Flippydoodles.” There wasn’t anything else to say, so I closed my eyes and rested my fingertips on his arm.

Images flashed, some blurry, some clear, all of them intimate. Pierce as a kid, in a schoolroom with a few other children, in his childhood bedroom, with his parents. “Your mother, at least I think it’s your mother, is stunning. Black hair and your blue eyes.”

“Her name is Siofra. Means sprite.
Máthair
is petite.” There was a grin underlying his words.

Pierce must have deliberately sent me a picture of facing down a giant of a man, and winning. I grinned. “And the big guy, red hair, green eyes, is your father?”

“Lorcán. Means fierce.” There was no doubt Pierce respected his dad.

I tapped his arm. “Your mother may be tiny, but she’s cornered fierce when it comes to your father. I like her. Like both of them. You don’t look like your dad at all.”

“No. Damn good thing I have
Athair’s
temperament but look like
Máthair.
”

A series of images flashed across my internal screen, all of them with Pierce in dicey moments with beautiful women. Most of them were pointing a gun at him. “Uh-huh. Looks like being a handsome dude got you out of a few tight spots.”

“Some.” He jerked his arm away from me, put his hand back on the steering wheel. “That should be enough to prep you for…home.”

“Maybe. None of those images explained why we’re going to your parents’ house.” I was digging, pushing him.

“Returning the car to Siofra.”

That was probably true, but it wasn’t the reason we were in Ireland. “Eamon Grady?”

“Lives near
Máthair
and
Athair.
” Brisk, chilly words.

Curiosity aside, I let it drop. I’d invaded enough of Pierce’s personal life to hold me for the next hour or so, as long as it took us to get to… “Where exactly are we going?”

Pierce managed a grin, but his face was still pasty gray. “Not too far from Blarney Castle. Want to kiss the stone?”

Keep it light, Everly.
I shifted position to look at him full-on. “It would be horribly remiss of me to be so close and not kiss the Blarney Stone. After all, I need to fill in all the words you forget to say.”

His belly laugh was genuine and warmed my soul. It wasn’t often I could work my way beneath Pierce’s super spy, protective exterior and reach the man. Spoiling the moment wasn’t an option, so I held my questions at bay, and kept the last image I’d seen, the one that rocked my sanity, to myself.

Cait Connor had been standing behind a wheelchair, smiling down at a man, and was one of my rare
future
images.

EIGHTEEN

“WE SHOULD FIND A CAR WASH.
It would be polite to return a clean, vacuumed vehicle to your mother.” I looked around the semi-trashed car. “We’ve been living in here for a gazillion hours and there’s the distinct aroma of unwashed bodies and stale food. We should probably shower and clean up before—”

Pierce glanced at me, added one of his patented grunts. “Glanmire. The petrol station has a car wash. No shower unless you want to audition as a hood ornament.” He gave me a lame grin, then tapped the steering wheel in an unconscious rhythm. “Thanks for thinking of my
máthair.
”

The knot of worry that had been riding in my chest released. I drew in a breath, filling my lungs. It was going to be okay, going home with Tynan Pierce. “She’s a woman. I’m a woman. We have an estrogen bond going on that makes for easy communication.”

“This is gonna be worse than the ninth circle of hell.”

“Treachery?” I shrugged. “I suppose female intuition is capable of treachery, but mostly not. Most women aren’t unfaithful, traitorous, double-crossing bitches. Has Annie ever met your parents?”

Damn it all. I hadn’t checked in with Annie since Pierce arrived in Torquay. She’d kill me. I fumbled for my phone, gave up when Pierce answered me.

“No. And what does A.J. have to do with female treachery?” He sounded serious.

My mouth dropped open. “Nothing. She’s not treacherous at all. But she was a super spy, and your partner in all things covert. Surely she taught you the
advantages
of female intuition. Heck, the two of you could write a book on covert technique.”

His smile was infectious. “Yeah. But A.J. would shoot me if I suggested we divulge secrets about estrogen-based intuition.”

My heart skipped a beat. There was something relaxed and little-boy in that smile I’d never seen before. I turned away for a second to gather my thoughts, and then glanced at him with a question. “Are you happy to be going home, to see your family?”

The smile disappeared, and I immediately regretted asking. “Sorry. I’m prying where I shouldn’t be.”

“My parents are good people, but we have philosophical differences.” His tone was even, modulated.

“Isn’t that true of most parents and their offspring? I had a great relationship with my folks, but loved them very, um, differently, after I left for college.”

Pierce shot me a quick glance. “How’d that go?” He wiggled his fingers.

“The touching thing?”

He nodded.

“Mom and dad were the quintessential overprotective parents. They homeschooled me, so it took some adjustment, learning to keep my fingers to myself in crowded areas.” I shuddered, remembering the agony of accidentally brushing against strangers and seeing their intimate secrets. “I’m a fast learner. Figured out how to do most things without using my fingertips.”

Pierce sighed. “Suggestion. Keep them away from my family.”

Irritation and hurt bubbled deep in my gut. “That’s why you brought this up? To warn me not to trespass in your parents’ privacy? I thought you knew me better than that.”

“
Máthair
is…friendly. Hard to resist.”

It sounded like his words had been buried a long time ago, and were suddenly being dug out from some deep, dark place in his psyche. My empathy overcame common sense. “I could stay in…where did you say? Glanmire. They must have a hotel or bed and breakfast, someplace I can wait for you while you return your mom’s car. I could rent my own vehicle there, and then we can start looking for Grady.”

“No need. We’ll stay with my family.”

Panic took over, and adrenaline flooded my veins. “What? What does that mean,
stay
with your family? You mean in the same house?” I couldn’t keep the sheer terror out of my voice.

His lips twitched. “No. They’ll probably put us in their guest house.”

“Probably? Give me percentages, something I can count on.”

My obvious panic brought out a legendary Pierce grin. “Fifty-fifty.”

I stared at him, calculating. The frightening lack of color in his skin was completely at odds with the grin. Something was going on, and I didn’t have a clue how to get to the root of it. My fingers itched to touch him. This time with a specific question in mind.

But we’d reached the turnoff for Gleann Maghair and I was distracted by the view. The sun was low in sky and cast a golden glow over the rolling hills and stone bridge. “It’s lovely. We should probably stay here and eat supper. You know, so we don’t arrive at a bad time. Your family doesn’t expect us…do they?” I honestly had no clue. “Did you text them, call them?”

“No.
Máthair
will want to feed us.”

His tone left no room for discussion, but I tried anyway. “It won’t be that late when we get there, around five. What if—”

He huffed out a sigh. “She’ll need to feed us, Belisama.”

We took care of cleaning the car, and were back on the road in twenty minutes. The closer we got to wherever Pierce’s family lived, the quieter he got. Not that Tynan Pierce ever ran at the mouth, but there was a strange tension vibrating around him. “Is there anything you want to tell me before we get there?”

“No.” He turned onto a side road that was marked with a sign that read Tuatha Dé Danann.

I pointed to it. “What does that mean?”

“People of the Goddess Dana.” His knuckles went white on the steering wheel.

“Oh.” My belly hollowed. “Is this where your family lives? Are they spiritual?

He sighed. “They’re peaceful. Gentle.”

Exactly the opposite of their son’s worldly persona. “That fits. So are you.”

He jerked his head to look at me. “What?”

I lifted my hands, shrugged. “Isn’t it obvious? You couldn’t be the warrior you are if your core beliefs weren’t based in peace and respect. A huge part of your life has been spent making life or death decisions. I’m learning that it doesn’t come easily, and there’s always a price. Just before I shot Fion Connor, I was acutely aware that she was Cait’s mother, and that her death would affect Cait in a slew of ways. It didn’t stop me from shooting, but it, and a few other things, stopped me from taking a kill shot. I wouldn’t have missed, Pierce. Not if I’d intended to murder her.”

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, and then turned into a paved area just off the road to the right. “Huh.”

Trees surrounded the area. No visible buildings. Did Pierce’s parents camp? Like in tents? “Is this where your family lives?”