For Love & Bourbon (28 page)

A pleased smile lifted Ned’s lips. “Fools.” He eased back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head as his grin grew larger. “A fine day it is, then. Dare I ask how me cousin is takin’ the news?”

“I imagine yer payback has crippled him, Boss. However...” Ronan’s stern features twisted slightly, signaling what Ned knew to be a bad sign.

“Out with it, then,” Ned grumbled, letting his hands fall back to the desk. “I take it something went wrong?”

“Not quite.” Ronan shook his head. “I had our man forward the contents of her cell phone to me. I thought perhaps ye’d like the pictures as a memento, of sorts.”

Ned’s brow creased with suspicion. “What did ye find?”

Ronan lowered his long frame into the chair across from Ned and handed him the file folder. “See for yerself.”

Without hesitating, Ned opened the folder and inspected the photographs inside. There were dozens of them, mostly of her with his cousin and his traitorous uncle. He paused when he uncovered a close-up image of her flanked on either side by a smiling young man and woman in their late-twenties.

The likeness was startling. From the shade of their auburn hair to the curve of their cheekbones to the fullness of their mouths, they were her spitting image. Save for the eyes and the strength of their chins—those he knew they hadn’t inherited through her bloodline. Those had come from somewhere else entirely.

Somewhere far more disconcerting.

“These are Ty’s children?” he asked, a fluttering tick in his right cheek the first sign of his outrage. He struggled to keep his breathing level as he continued to stare purposefully into the eyes of the twins, haunted by the familiarity he saw there.

Ronan bowed his head. “Aye. It appears he raised them in Fox Hills. He’s done a good job keeping them off the radar, until recently. I discovered this image on the company’s website as well.”

He dug a piece of paper out of his coat pocket, unfolded it, and placed it on the desk. It was the family portrait of the Brannons, with Joe at the heart and Ava and Adam at his sides. Ty stood in the back. Ned glared at his cousin’s face, envisioning tearing the man apart for what he’d done. For what he’d kept hidden all these years.

All of his earlier delight was gone. In its place was a rage more violent than any he had ever felt. Even worse than the discovery that she was alive, having evaded him for all these years, was this latest blow. This was an unquestionably worse betrayal.

“Bring me my sons,” he ordered. He took a long drink of whiskey to help cool his temper, infuriated to see his hand tremble.

Ronan quickly left the room and returned moments later with Rhys and Killian. Both approached their father’s desk in silent reverence. 

Ned finally tore his eyes from the photograph to face his sons. “We have business to attend to in the States. I need ye to make the arrangements for us to travel.”

Rhys and Killian exchanged a curious look. Rhys spoke first. “May I ask what for?”

Ned tossed the photograph onto the desk, a sneer tightening his features as his sons inspected it. “There’s a couple of long lost sheep that have strayed from the flock. It’s time we brought them home.”

THE FUNERAL
was held on a calm, peaceful Sunday morning. As if by grand design, the sunlight warmed the faces of those present and songbirds flitted about the elm trees, their voices soothing and filled with magic.

It was a day her mother would have adored, Ava thought. A day as sunny and lovely as the woman being laid to rest.

Adam stood to her left, Brandy a permanent fixture at his side. Ava took notice of the way her brother held on to her old friend, and as unhappy as the day was, the sight of it pleased her. Her mother would have loved to see the two of them come together. She liked to imagine her mother looking down on them, delighting in it all the same.

To her left was her grandfather. He stood upright and proud, a quiet smile on his face as the preacher recalled tales of Sandra’s generous nature and open heart. Everyone, including Joe, had fallen in love with her from the moment she’d come to Fox Hills nearly thirty years earlier. The proof was in the hundreds of people who came to pay their respects, all touched in some way by the woman she had been lucky enough to call her mother.

Tears swam in Ava’s eyes as she looked across the mahogany casket covered in pink and white lilies to her father. Though he was surrounded by people he had known all his life, Ava got the impression he felt so very alone. His gaze stayed glued on the box that held his wife, unwavering and hard as stone. Whatever he was feeling, be it grief or guilt or bitterness, he was keeping it to himself. Since the day she had died, he’d done nothing but that. He hadn’t even attempted to defend himself against Ava’s accusations or questions. Instead he had retreated into a comatose silence, beyond reaching. Until he came up for air again, she knew she’d be unable to get through to him.

As the casket was lowered into the ground, the preacher read off scriptures and Ava closed her eyes. She focused on his comforting voice, letting a sense of peace wash over her. For now, in this moment, she was content to lay her mother to rest and know Heaven had gained the brightest of angels.

When it was through and the crowd dispersed for the reception at the church, Ava held tight to her grandfather and Adam as they walked up the grassy slope to the parking lot. Her father followed close behind, but made no move to join them.

She spotted Cooper leaning casually against his sedan, dressed in his suit and tie with his golden hair catching the sun. With his hands tucked in his pockets and sunglasses hiding his eyes, he looked so official and intimidating. The subtle curve of his lips at the sight of her said otherwise.

Adam tensed, but she ignored his disapproval and went to Cooper anyway.

“Hey.” She began to hug him, thought against it and held out her hand instead. “I’m glad you came by.”

He removed his sunglasses and accepted her handshake, his eyes glued to hers. A quiet compassion softened his face. “I’m sorry to bother you. I just need a second of your time.”

“It’s okay.” She didn’t even realize her hand was still in his until he squeezed it and let go. His eyes drifted over her shoulder and when she turned, she saw he was staring intently at her father as he climbed into Joe’s truck.

“Has he said anything?” Cooper asked, referring to Ty.

Ava shook her head. “We’ve barely spoken at all. I’ve never seen him like this.”

“He may have a guilty conscience.”

Her heart ached at the thought, wishing beyond all hope that this was just some insane nightmare. “He knows I blame him. Until he comes around, I don’t expect I’ll get anything out of him.”

She tilted her face up to Cooper’s, wanting nothing more than to seek comfort in the safety of his arms. If it wasn’t for the lingering funeral guests curiously watching her on the way to their cars, she would have.

“So is there any news?” she asked.

“Not really.” He slipped his sunglasses into his coat pocket, avoiding her gaze. “The investigation into your mother’s death has been put on hold. I think they’re waiting for something, and it’s my belief it has to do with Ned.”

“But they won’t tell you?” She urged him to look at her, needing to see the truth of it in his eyes.

“The local PD is still maintaining that it was just a robbery, but they’re having trouble building their case. The man they caught isn’t as solid a suspect as it appeared at first.”

“How so?”

He slipped his hands into his pockets. “I pestered the Sheriff this morning and got him to admit that they were pressured into making a quick arrest and to work out the details later. He’s worried they don’t have enough evidence to hold him. They may have to let him go.”

Ava let out a rush of breath, her mind turning over this new information. “But he’s probably not our guy, right? So if he’s innocent he should be set free. Then they can find the real shooter.”

“In theory, yes.” Cooper angled his head, his face lined with stress. “With the investigation being put on hold, the only conclusion I can come to is that they’re waiting for Ned to make another move. I’m under strict orders to keep an eye on your entire family. I think they’re waiting for Ned to come to the States.”

She crossed her arms against a chill that swept over her. “Why won’t they just tell you the truth? Why all the secrecy? What are they hiding?”

“If I knew, I’d tell you.” A ghost of a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “I know one thing for sure—Ned Brannon is behind this, and though I’m being kept in the dark on some of the details, the FBI is working something behind the scenes. They don’t want your mother’s death to be tied to Ned. I think they want him to believe he got away with it to encourage him to come back for the rest of you. Most likely they’re hoping he’ll smuggle himself into the States to take care of Ty personally.”

“They’re using us as bait,” she murmured, feeling sick and furious all at once. “I can’t believe this.”

He caught her by the arms before she could walk away, forcing her to look at him. “If it’s true, then you could be in danger.”

Her lip curled as hate filled her. “So let him come try and take me out. I won’t go down without a fight.”

“Of course you won’t.” Affection and regret softened his voice as he stared into her eyes. “Until this blows over we’ll be keeping watch over you and your family, but I can’t be there every second of the day. You need to arm yourself.”

She pulled back her coat, revealing the holstered pistol at her waist. One of her eyebrows raised at the impressed look he gave her. “I know how to shoot it, too. In case you were wondering.”

“I don’t doubt that.” He attempted another smile and brushed strands of hair from her forehead.

She grabbed his hand and cradled it against her cheek. “I’m sorry about what I said the other night. About you not understanding. It wasn’t fair. But I do hope that when you’re ready, you’ll tell me what happened to you.”

He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat, humbled by her words. “I’ll be sticking around for a while it seems. I hope you don’t get sick of me.”

She shook her head, a dozen emotions crossing her face. “In spite of everything, Slick, I like having you around.”

“In spite of everything, I like being around.” He twisted a piece of her hair around his fingers, admiring the way the auburn turned scarlet in the sun. “You should go. Your family will be expecting you.”

Ava looked around and noticed that everyone had left the cemetery. On impulse, she stood on her toes and gave him a tender, lingering kiss, then turned and walked away.

I
n the week following her mother’s funeral, Ava discovered a lot of things about grief. One was that if she managed to distract herself long enough, the pain subsided. It didn’t fade completely—that she knew would never happen. But it did give her the chance to continue on with her life.

The other thing she had learned was that everyone dealt with grief differently. Her grandfather, being of a similar temperament, dove back into work and busied himself as often as he could. He fixed on a smile and did his best to bring everything back to the way it was, and only occasionally did she stumble across him during a time of haunted reflection. In those moments, his bright mood was dampened by a storm cloud, darkened by an anger she understood only too well. So she’d sit down, wrap her arm around him and let silence say all the words she knew needn’t be said.