Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
~CAMERON~
I ’ve been up for hours, plugging away in my office. It’s been a couple of days since I stayed with Maggie. Since we shared the best damn night of my life.
She’s been working her ass off at night, and I do the same during the day, so we’ve been hit and miss with seeing each other aside from a few minutes at the pub. But I’ll see her later. Maggie’s parents are coming in from Ireland today.
I’m the only one who knows. They wanted to surprise all of their kids with a visit. So, I’ll pick them up from the airport in a few hours and take them to the pub.
I know they’ll be jet-lagged, and they should go to Maeve’s and settle into the little guest apartment above the garage, but they’ll want to go to the pub first.
Because I’ll be gone for most of the day, I had to get ahead with work this morning, and I’m just about all caught up.
Next, I have to call a major superstar. Arguably, the most famous rock star on the planet.
I can’t believe I have Leo Nash’s phone number, but I do, and I want to talk to him about Maggie and her incredible voice.
When I dial his number, it goes to voicemail.
Anastasia warned me that this might happen, so she also gave me his wife’s phone number.
Sam answers on the second ring.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Sam, this is Cameron Cox. I’m a good friend of Kane’s.”
“Of course. Hi, Cam. How’s it going?”
“Everything is good here, thanks for asking. Hey, I’m trying to reach Leo. I have some questions for him. You aren’t by any chance with him, are you?”
“No, actually. He’s at the studio in the city today, working on a new album. You’re welcome to call him there. If he’s recording, you can leave a message, and he’ll call you right back.”
She rattles off the number to the studio for me, and I commit it to memory.
“Thank you. I really appreciate it.”
“Anytime. How are all the girls doing? We haven’t done one of our epic girls’ nights in way too long.”
“Everyone is doing very well, as far as I know.”
“Well, I’ll be calling Nat and Jules, and we’ll put together a party soon. Thanks for reminding me that we need to do that.”
I laugh and shake my head. “You ladies and your girls’ events crack me up.”
“Hey, we all work hard. We deserve some time to eat and drink and gossip. It’s what I live for. Go ahead and call the studio. Leo will be there all day.”
“Thanks again, Sam. See you soon.”
We hang up, and I dial the number for the studio. A woman answers immediately.
“Hi, I’d like to speak with Leo, please. This is a friend calling. Cameron Cox.”
“Sorry, we don’t have anyone here by that name.”
She hangs up, and I stare at the phone with a frown. For fuck’s sake.
I call back, and she answers again.
“I believe we were disconnected. I’m a friend of Leo’s, and I’d like to speak with him, please.”
She doesn’t even reply, simply hangs up.
I run my hand through my hair, swear under my breath, and then decide to go to the city early. I have to go over and pick up the parents anyway, so I’ll go an hour before I planned to and swing by the studio on my way.
I text Maggie and let her know that I’ll be off the island for a few hours and then set off toward the ferry.
I’ll handle this in person.
It’s a clear, pretty spring day in Seattle, so the ferry ride is uneventful and arrives on time. I drive through town to the studio, which sits just across the street from Nic Montgomery’s bakery. I’ll have to go in and get some cupcakes on my way to the airport.
After miraculously finding parking at the curb, I toss some coins into the meter and walk into the studio, surprised to find Leo standing at the counter.
“Cam! Hey, man, what’s up?”
He crosses to me and does the man handshake-hug combination, with a genuine smile on his face.
“I tried to reach you earlier, but your receptionist hung up on me.”
Leo raises a brow, and then we both look at the woman seated behind the counter. “What the hell, Judy?”
“Do you know how many people call here asking for you? If I put every call through, you’d yell at me for letting fans interrupt you.”
“I did mention that I’m a friend,” I reply.
“They all do,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“Next time,” Leo says, not unkindly but firmly, “take a message, and I’ll call back the ones I want to.”
“Yes, sir,” she says and reaches for the ringing phone. “Sorry, no, he’s not available, but can I take a message?”
She rolls her eyes again, and Leo just smirks and gestures for me to follow him. “Judy’s been here a long time and thinks she’s irreplaceable. And she’s probably right. But that’s no excuse. Sorry about that.”
“It’s fine, I had to come this way anyway. I feel weird about this, but I have a favor to ask.”
Leo leans against a desk and crosses his tattooed arms over his chest. “Shoot.”
“You know Maggie O’Callaghan.”
“Sure.”
I go on to tell him about her social media account, the millions of people she has following her, and Leo tugs his phone out of his pocket and pulls her up while we’re talking.
Maggie’s voice fills the air.
“Damn,” he whispers. “She’s good.”
“I know. Now, she says she’s not interested in recording an album or seeking a career as a pop star, but she’d love to professionally record one song.”
Leo tucks his phone away and looks over my shoulder as if he’s formulating a plan.
“You know, I’m in the middle of recording a new album. There’s a song on it, a ballad, that would be fabulous for her if she’d like to sing it with me.”
I grin at him, and Leo smiles back.
“Let’s make a plan.”
“You’ve always been such a good lad,” Fiona O’Callaghan says from my passenger seat and reaches over to pat my arm. I drove my truck today because it has the extra room, with four doors and cargo space. The Mustang wouldn’t work for airport runs.
“I’m just glad you two were able to come,” I reply and glance back at Tom, who’s watching the island pass us by as I drive us over to the pub. “Everyone is going to be so surprised.”
“You’re the only one of our children who can keep a bleeding secret, and that’s the truth of it,” Tom says with a laugh.
Every time these amazing people call me one of their kids, my chest swells. I don’t know how I got so lucky to be brought into this fold, but I’m grateful for it every damn day.
I pull up to the pub, and we all get out of the truck. I take charge of the luggage as Fiona makes a beeline for the door.
“It’s excited she is to see her wee babes,” Tom says, that Irish lilt as thick as ever.
“And they’ll be excited to see her,” I agree. Tom rolls one of the suitcases, and I take the other. “How long do you think you’ll be in town?”
“Until after Maeve has the baby.”
“That’s a few months away, at least.”
“It is, aye. Fiona wants to be with her girl for the bulk of the pregnancy. There’s nothing quite like having your ma nearby, is there?”
I wouldn’t know. But I can say that there’s nothing like having Tom and Fiona here.
Before I can answer him, Kane calls, and I answer on speaker.
“What’s up?”
“Hey, are you back on the island?”
“How did you know I wasn’t on the island?”
“Maggie told me.”
“Yes, I’m back.”
“Great, can you please come over to my place? There’s a situation, and Maggie’s having a bit of a fit.”
“I am not having a fit, you arse,” I hear Maggie yell in the background.
Tom snorts next to me.
“Sure, I can come over. Give me about fifteen, okay?”
“Thanks.”
Kane hangs up, and I blow out a breath. “Well, looks like I’ll say hi to everyone and then head over to Kane’s.”
“It wouldn’t be a lovely Wednesday if Maggie wasn’t worked up about something,” Tom says with a laugh. “She’s a spitfire, that one is.”
“You’re right about that, Tom.”
I rest my hand on the other man’s shoulder before we go and find the others.
“Yes, lad?”
“I need to talk to you about Maggie.”
He firms his lips but doesn’t say anything, waiting for me to continue.
“I’m dating her.”
His eyes light with humor, and he smacks me on the shoulder. “It’s about time, my boy.”
“You’re okay with it?”
“Is there a reason I should forbid it?”
I shake my head and rub my hand over my mouth. “No, sir. But I’m older than she is by about a decade, and some might find that disturbing.”
Tom’s quiet as we listen to Keegan and Izzy exclaiming and fussing over Fiona. They’re obviously surprised and excited.
“I’ve known you the majority of your young life,” Tom says at last. “And I couldn’t love you more as a son than if you’d been born from Fiona’s body. You’re part of our family.”
“And I’m grateful.”
He turns to me in surprise. “Grateful? It’s not gratitude that any of us want from you, boy. We just want your love and respect.”
“And you have it, in spades.”
“I know we do.” He calms and pats my shoulder. “Maggie didn’t grow up with you the way the others did because she was so much younger, so it makes sense that it’s not a brother she sees when she looks at you. It’s a good man you are, and any father would count himself lucky to know that you have your eyes on his daughter.”
“Thank you.” Relief brushes away the heaviness I’ve carried on my shoulders.
“She’s been hurt before,” he continues. “And I trust that history won’t repeat itself.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’d rather die than ever hurt her. I love her.”
“Have you told her that news yet?”
I grin and shrug one shoulder. “Not yet. I don’t think she’s ready to hear it. But we’ll get there. There’s no hurry.”
“You’re a smart man,” Tom says and claps me on the back as we walk toward the kitchen. “A smart, smart man. I think you got that from me.”
“I think you’re right.”
“Da!” Keegan exclaims and hurries over to hug his father. “How did you keep this a secret?”
“We had Cameron help us,” Fiona says. “Now, that’s a lad who can keep a secret. If we’d told anyone else, it wouldn’t have been a secret at all.”
“I’m offended,” Shawn decides. “I can keep a bloody secret.”
“Right.” Lexi rolls her eyes and then laughs. “You’re a vault.”
“I am,” Shawn insists but then chuckles. “I don’t care who kept the secret. It was a damn good one. I’m so glad you’re here.”
“As are we, boy,” Tom says. “Now, is there some stew simmering? This old man needs something in his belly.”
“You ate on the plane,” Fiona reminds him.
I slink away to go put out a fire at Kane’s place. I don’t know what he’s done this time to rile Maggie up, but she sounded good and pissed on the phone.
Exactly nine minutes later, I walk into Kane’s house and through to the sunporch where we usually sit when we’re here. Kane has a killer view of the ocean.
Murphy, Kane’s yellow dog, runs over to greet me, and I scratch his ears.
But I narrow my eyes when I see the other two people in the room.
Maggie.
And Bill Miller, the private investigator that Kane hired after Joey died.
“Why is he here?”
“Wait.” Maggie rounds on me, fire shooting from her magnificent green eyes. “You know about him? You know ?”
“Okay, let’s calm down,” Kane says.
“Fuck that,” Maggie says. “I told you that I was done. I don’t want to know any more about the shit that Joey pulled. It’s over. I’m moving on with my damn life, so anything that he has to say is irrelevant to me.”
I stare at my best friend incredulously, then sigh and push my fingers into my eyes to try to relieve the headache that’s set up residence just behind them.
“I wouldn’t have asked you to come here if I didn’t think the information that Bill has is valuable,” Kane says. “And before you cut my bleeding head off again, you’ll shut up and listen, Mary Margaret.”
If looks could kill, Kane would be in a bloody heap on the floor.
“I don’t mean to upset you,” Bill says. “There hasn’t been much to find that you didn’t already know. Until about two days ago.”
He opens his briefcase and pulls out some paper copies of documents and photos.
“I stumbled upon this account and safety deposit box belonging to a Lemonade, LLC in the Cayman Islands.”
It’s about time you found that account, you idiot.
Maggie’s eyes widen, but then she shrugs. “So?”
I want to pull her to me and tell her that everything will be okay. But when it comes to this matter, I don’t know how much reassurance or support she wants from me. She’s been hell-bent on healing privately, almost from the minute she found out that her husband was dead.
“So, your safety deposit box key probably goes to that,” Kane says.
“I don’t care,” she insists. “I don’t freaking care, Kane.”
“That’s bullshite,” Kane replies, his voice raised in frustration and his Irish accent stronger. “You have an opportunity to find out what’s in that damn box.”
“And the account is worth half a million dollars,” Bill adds.
“I’m probably not the beneficiary,” Maggie says. “He had a dozen accounts, and I wasn’t the beneficiary on any of them. Not to mention, it’s likely money he stole, so it doesn’t belong to me anyway.”
“That’s why he stashed it down there,” Bill says, echoing my thoughts. “It can’t be traced. And , you are, in fact, the beneficiary.”
Her mouth opens and then closes again.
“Bullshit.”
“Not bullshitting you,” Bill says patiently. “All you have to do is go down there with your identification and claim it.”
Maggie sits on the couch, and Murphy lays his head in her lap. She absently pets his head.
“Half a million,” she whispers. So many emotions cross her face all at once—going from confused to sad to angry once more.
“I don’t want it.”
“Mary Margaret,” Kane begins, but she cuts him off.
“I don’t want it,” she repeats and digs into her purse, coming up with the key before throwing it at her brother. “If you’re dying to know what’s in the box, you go look.”
“Only the beneficiary can claim it,” Bill informs her.
“Please,” Maggie says with a roll of her eyes. “He has more money than God and can talk his way into just about anything. He’ll figure it out.”
And with that, she kisses Murphy and stomps out of the room.
Murphy whines.
Kane curses.
Bill sighs.
“You’re a fucking idiot,” I inform my best friend. “I told you to drop this a year ago. She doesn’t want to know. She made it clear, but you wouldn’t let it go.”
He drags his hands down his face. He’s pissed. But so am I.
“Look, I know that you want to protect her, but goddamn it, Kane, she’s not a child. She doesn’t want this.”
And anything else that he finds can only hurt her further.
Joseph Lemon was a grade-A son of a bitch.
“She’s pissed,” Kane mutters.
“Yeah, at me, as well. And if you fuck this up for me, I’ll never forgive you. I suggest you fix it.”
I turn and stomp out of the house and out to my truck. Everything in me wants to run after Maggie. I’m pretty sure she went straight to the pub, and by now, is telling Keegan and her parents and anyone else who’ll listen what just happened.
They’ve got her for now.
I need to figure out a way to diffuse her anger with me. Because, yes, I knew about the investigator. And, frankly, I know a hell of a lot more than that. But I can’t tell her—or anyone else—what I know.
And some days, that knowledge feels like it’s strangling me.
I spoke with my former boss and asked if I could tell Maggie, just Maggie , what I know, and he adamantly said no. This matter falls under the jurisdiction of the US government, and I’m legally bound to keep quiet. If I don’t, I could go to jail for up to ten years.
I’m not willing to do that.
Not today or any day.
Besides, Maggie insists that she doesn’t want to know, so it’s been no harm, no foul.
Until today.
I don’t think I can mend this with a bouquet of posies and some chocolates. She’s too angry.
Instead, I swing through the dollar store and buy a dozen drinking glasses, then I pull up to my house and haul an extra tin trash can from my garage and put it in the bed of my truck before driving over to Maggie’s.
I don’t have a key to her house, but that’s okay. For what I have in mind, I don’t need to go inside.