Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
Jack Collins could have kicked himself for not reacting sooner. When the pub owner, Emily O’Brien, had run through the barroom and disappeared down the hallway, he should have gone after her immediately. Instead, he’d waited, expecting her to reappear momentarily to serve her customers.
“Where’s Emily?” the redheaded waitress asked as she set her tray of empties on the bar.
“Her Uncle Paddy came scurryin’ through a few minutes ago.” The man Emily had called Sean snorted. “The crazy old man claimed he wasn’t there.” He shook his head. “Miss Emily went after him.”
The waitress frowned and slipped behind the counter to dispense with the empties and start filling her orders. “Did she say when they’d be back?”
Jack shook his head. “No, she didn’t.” He’d been watching the bar owner all evening. She hadn’t taken a single break, making certain her customers had everything they needed. He didn’t think she’d leave the bar unattended for as long as she had.
He slid off his barstool and headed for the hallway where she and the old man had gone.
A man was exiting the men’s latrine when Jack entered the hallway.
“Anyone else in there?” Jack asked.
The man’s eyebrows rose. “In the loo?”
Jack nodded.
“No,” the man said. “It’s all yours.” He left Jack standing in the hallway and staggered unsteadily toward the barroom.
Not taking the man’s word for it, Jack ducked his head into the bathroom. It was empty. He knocked on the ladies’ room door. When no one responded, he poked his head inside. “Miss Emily?” he called out. When he got no response, he moved down the hallway to what appeared to be an office. Again, it was empty, leaving only one more door that stood slightly ajar—the building’s rear exit.
Jack pushed through the open door out into the Dublin night air. His attention zeroed in on a man standing over another man, lying face down on the ground. Both wore dark clothing and ski masks. Not a good sign. A car stood near the men, the trunk gaped open, and the engine revved.
The man standing said something that sounded like, We gotta get her into the trunk.
The man on the ground moved slightly, exposing a pale white hand much too small to belong to a big guy.
Anger, fear and adrenaline shot through Jack’s veins. He flung himself toward the man standing over the guy on the ground and knocked him over on top of his counterpart. The man crashed to the ground on the other side and came up on his knees.
Jack reached down and grabbed the man lying on top of Emily by the back of his collar and his belt and slung him toward his counterpart. They both landed in a tangle of arms and legs.
Emily lay face down on the pavement.
The roar of an engine rang out in the Dublin night. “Get in!” a voice called out.
The two men Jack had bulldozed scrambled to their feet, ran for the car, flung open the doors and dove inside. They had barely closed the doors when tires squealed, and the vehicle slid sideways in a one-eighty and aimed for Jack and Emily.
Emily moaned, flattened her palms against the pavement and pushed herself upward until she was on her hands and knees.
Jack hooked around her middle and flung her out of the path of the oncoming car. He stood his ground and flipped his middle finger, distracting the driver to come after him, not Emily.
The car’s tires spun on the pavement, engaged and sent two tons of metal barreling toward him.
As the car reached him, Jack planted his hands on the hood, vaulted into the air, twisted, slammed his body into the windshield and rolled to the side and off the hood, landing on his hands and knees not far from where he’d thrown Emily. He pushed to his feet and turned toward the vehicle as it shot out of the alley and disappeared around the corner of the building at the end.
Jack had hoped to catch a license plate, but there hadn’t been one. When he was fairly certain they weren’t coming back, he turned toward Emily, rubbed the grit off hands and extended one to her. “Are you all right?”
“I should be asking you that question.” She stared up at him. “Are you okay?”
He nodded. “I’ll live.”
“I’m glad you’re all right.” She took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. “But I’m not so sure about my uncle.” She hurried toward the man lying still on the pavement. She crouched beside him and touched his shoulder. “Uncle Paddy?”
Jack dropped to his haunches beside the bar owner, reached out his hand and touched his fingers to the base of her uncle’s throat.
Emily pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and waited silently beside him.
For a long moment, Jack felt nothing. Then the faint throb of a pulse pushed against his fingertips. “He’s got a pulse.”
“Thank God.” Emily let go of the breath she must have been holding and started to rise to her feet.
“Keep an eye out for that car. I’ll call for an ambulance.” Jack pulled his cell phone from his pocket.
The man on the ground groaned. “No.”
Emily leaned over him. “Uncle Paddy?”
“No... ambulance,” he said, his voice nothing more than a whisper.
“But you need to see a doctor,” Emily said. “Those men beat you up pretty badly. You could have a concussion.”
“No... ambulance,” he repeated and tried to sit up. “I’m all right.” He winced and dropped back to his side.
“You’re not okay,” Emily said. “You need to see a doctor.”
“I’ll be...fine,” he said softly as if it hurt to talk. “Just...need a... minute.”
“I don’t like that he was unconscious for so long,” Jack said, a worried frown pulling his brow.
Emily nodded. “Me either. They were pretty rough with him.” She knelt beside her uncle, her brow creased in a deep frown. Emily glanced up at Jack. “Thank you for coming to our rescue.”
He dipped his head. “Glad I could. For a moment, I thought they’d already gotten away with you until I saw your hand poking out from beneath the big guy who had you pinned.” His lips pressed into a tight line. Jack usually kept tight control of his emotions and actions. But when it came to men overpowering and abusing women, he didn’t want to hold back. He wanted to pound the life out of them. He wanted them to feel powerless, like they made the women they abused felt.
“Emily?” a voice called out from the back door of the pub. The red-haired waitress ran out. “Oh, dear Lord. What’s happened?”
“Oh, Daphne, someone attacked Uncle Paddy.” Emily frowned down at her uncle. “And he won’t let us call an ambulance.”
“I’m fine,” her uncle said.
The redhead marched across to where the old man lay on the ground. “And when did you become a doctor, Paddy O’Brien?”
“I don’t want any more trouble,” the old man said.
Daphne planted her fists on her hips. “Well, trouble will be if you don’t see a doctor.”
“Please…” Emily’s uncle scrubbed a hand over his face and winced. “They can’t know they got the better of me.”
“They?” Emily’s eyes narrowed. “Do you know who did this?”
Her uncle groaned. “No. But I have an idea.”
“Then share,” Daphne demanded. “My cousins and I will have a come-to-Jesus with them.”
“No,” Paddy said. “Leave it. There’s more to the situation than you know.”
“We’d know more if you’d let us in on what’s going on,” Emily said.
“I’ve already said too much,” her uncle said softly. “I just want to go back to my place.”
“If you won’t go to the hospital, you’ll see my cousin Aoife,” Daphne said. “And there will be no arguing with me.”
Paddy frowned up at her. “The pediatrician?”
“Don’t turn your nose up. She’s used to dealing with stubborn children.” Daphne cocked an eyebrow in challenge. When Paddy didn’t comment, her voice softened. “She also helps Dublin’s homeless on the side.” Daphne’s gaze met Emily’s. “I can take him or stay and man the pub. You know where my cousin lives.”
“Are you sure you can handle the pub on your own?” Emily asked.
Daphne tossed her red hair. “I come from a big family that likes to sit around at night and on weekends, getting drunk and watching football. If they get rowdy, I’ll kick their bloody arses out and lock up early.”
Emily gave Daphne a weak smile. “Thank you, Daphne. I’d like to take him to see your cousin myself.”
“Understandable,” Daphne said with a crisp nod. “I’ll be gettin' back to the bar before they start helpin’ themselves. And I’ll give Aoife a call to let her know you’re on your way.” The redhead hurried back into the pub and closed the door behind her.
Emily dug into her pocket and pulled out a set of keys. “My car is in the alley beside the pub. Could you bring it around so that we don’t have to carry my uncle any further than we have to?”
Jack nodded, took the keys and hurried to the side of the building where he found an older model four-door Mercedes that had seen better days. The exterior had numerous scrapes and dents, but the engine fired up as soon as he turned the key in the ignition. Fortunately, Jack had been in the UK prior to his assignment to Ireland and had sufficient practice navigating a vehicle on the opposite side of the road than he was used to in the States. He eased the car around the corner of the building and pulled as close as he could to where Emily waited with her uncle and shifted into park.
He jumped out and helped Paddy O’Brien to his feet and into the back seat, where he lay across the leather seats and closed his eyes.
“Thank you,” Emily said and slid behind the steering wheel.
Jack hurried around to the front of the vehicle and climbed into the passenger seat.
Emily frowned. “It really isn’t necessary for you to come. I’m sure you have other things to do rather than tag along with a couple of strangers.”
“If you don’t mind, I could be of assistance getting him into and out of the car.” He glanced over his shoulder at the old man. “I’m not sure he can make it out of the back seat on his own, and, as capable as you are, it’s just easier with two.”
Emily’s frown remained for a long moment before she sighed. “You’re right. I don’t think I could get him out without causing him a lot more pain. But as soon as we get him to the doctor, you don’t have to stick around.”
Jack nodded. “I get it. I’m a stranger, and you don’t know me from Adam, but seriously, I only want to help.”
“Why?” she asked, her fingers wrapped around the gear shift.
“I’ve seen enough violence that I want to help when I can.”
Emily pushed the shift into gear, drove to the end of the alley and out onto the street.
“Any idea who might have done this to your uncle?” Jack asked.
Emily’s frown deepened. “I can guess.”
When she didn’t offer her guess, he pressed, “Do you think it was the Travellers?”
She snorted. “Who else would it be? There’ve been rumblings. Those who have chosen a life outside the family have experienced accidents or have gone missing.”
“You think that’s what happened to your Uncle?” he asked.
Emily nodded. “They were probably trying to convince him to return to the fold and sign over the pub to them.” Her lips twisted. “Only the pub isn’t his to sign over.”
“Is it your father’s?” he asked.
After a tight shake of her head, Emily stared at the street ahead. “Not anymore,” she said.
“Did he sign it over to the Travellers?”
She snorted softly. “No. He left it to me and my brother.”
“Emily,” Jack said softly. “Where is your father?” He knew the answer before Emily responded.
A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye. She reached up to brush it away. “He died a month ago in an automobile accident.”
Jack hated asking, but needed to know, “Was it an accident?”
She gripped the steering wheel too tightly; her knuckles turned white. “There was no other evidence to suggest otherwise,” she said, her tone flat as if she recited the words from a soulless report.
“I’m sorry,” Jack said. “Did they test his blood for alcohol or drugs?”
“My father didn’t drink or take drugs. But they couldn’t test him anyway. There wasn’t much left after the fire.” She turned at a street light and drove another block, moving slowly while blinking back tears.
Jack reached across the console and touched her arm. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
She took one hand off the steering wheel and scrubbed the tears from her cheeks. “Yeah, well, I got a few good years with him. I just wish he was still around for my brother.”
“Does your brother help out with the pub?” Jack asked.
Emily shook her head. “Not since my father’s death. He moved out of the flat and took a job on the wharf.” She slowed to a stop and waited to turn onto a major road.
Jack glanced over his shoulder at a set of headlights pulling up behind them.
Emily waited for several cars to pull past before she merged into traffic, still moving steadily despite the late hour.
The car that had been behind them jumped into the traffic, cutting off a little striped Mini Cooper. The Mini Cooper driver slammed on his brakes and hit his horn.
Jack frowned. “I want you to turn left at the next corner.”
“But that’s not the way to Dr. Kelly’s,” Emily said.
“Do it anyway,” he said softly. “And don’t use a turn signal.”
Emily’s brow furrowed. “Why?”
“I want to see if that car behind us will turn as well.”
Her gaze shot to the rearview mirror. “You think he’s following us?”
“I don’t know,” Jack said. “Let’s find out.”
At the next street, Emily barely slowed. At the last moment, she spun the wheel to the left, taking the turn fast enough to make the tires squeal.
“Now, give it some gas,” Jack instructed, wishing he was the one driving instead of giving orders.
Emily smashed the accelerator. The Mercedes leaped forward.
Sitting sideways in the passenger seat, Jack held his breath.
The driver of the car that had been behind them slammed on his brakes. The Mini Cooper behind him honked again as the sedan made the turn after nearly blowing past it.
“Same vehicle?” Emily’s gaze shifted from the rearview mirror to the road ahead.
“Yes,” Jack said tightly.
With almost two blocks between them, they had the advantage.
“Take the next right-hand turn,” Jack said. “We need to weave in and out of several streets to see if we can lose him.”
Emily nodded. At the next road, she didn’t slow until the last moment, jammed on the brakes, turned right, sped ahead to the next road and made a left.
“I don’t see the headlights yet. Make another left at the next road.”
As she did, Jack saw the headlights of the vehicle turn onto the street they were leaving.
They were barely staying ahead of the driver.
After several more turns, Jack spotted an apartment complex ahead. The other driver had yet to pull onto the street where they were. “Pull into that parking lot on the right. Hurry.”
Emily made the turn.
“Find a parking space, pull in, kill the engine, turn off the headlights and take your foot off the brake.”
As soon as she found an empty space, she pulled as far into the spot as possible. Then she shoved the shift into park, turned off the engine and lights and removed her foot from the brake pedal. “Could he have seen us pulling in?” she whispered.
“I don’t think so. From his headlights, I can see he hasn’t yet reached the corner to make the turn onto the street.” Lights shone on the street. “Get down.” Jack slipped lower in his seat.
Emily ducked low.
Headlights moved slowly past the entrance to the parking lot, eventually passing it completely.
Jack lowered his window to listen for the hum of the engine as it grew fainter.
They stayed for a couple more minutes in the parking lot before Jack felt the danger had passed.
A moan from the back seat made Jack straighten. “Let’s go.”
Emily started the engine, backed out of the parking space and eased the Mercedes up to the road.
Jack looked both ways and finally said, “I don’t see any cars. Go. But don’t go straight there, make a few turns along the way just to be safe.”
Emily held the steering wheel in a grip so tight that her knuckles turned white. She drove through the streets, taking turns and doubling back.
No more headlights appeared behind them.
Eventually, Emily pulled the car up to a curb in front of a long line of townhouses and shifted into park. “We’re here.” She sighed and eased her hands from the steering wheel.
Had they not had someone tailing them, Jack would have liked to ask more questions about Emily’s brother, her father and about her family’s migration from the States to Ireland to the States and back. He had hoped to fill in the gap between her mother going back to the States and Emily and her brother returning to Ireland. However, her uncle took priority.
Jack climbed out of the car and opened the door to the back.
A door opened, and a woman dressed in slacks, a matching shirt and a cardigan descended the stairs.
Emily met her on the sidewalk and quickly embraced her. “Hey, Aoife, thanks for letting us come.”
“I thought you’d be here sooner. What happened?” the woman asked.
Emily shot a glance toward Jack. “We had to shake a tail. We got here as soon as we could.”
The doctor’s eyes rounded as she looked past Emily, Jack and the car as if expecting to see another vehicle appear. When it didn’t, she wrapped her arms around her middle and shivered in the cool night air. “Your uncle should be at hospital. Why did you bring him here?”
Emily nodded. “We couldn’t convince him. Could you check him over?”
The doctor nodded and tilted her head toward the townhouse. “Can you get him inside?”
“We’ll do our best.” Emily came to stand beside Jack as he leaned into the back seat of the car. “Uncle Paddy,” she called out softly. “We’re going to need your help to get you out of the car and into the building.”
Her uncle lay as still as death.
Emily’s brow dipped. She reached for the old man’s shoulder and shook it gently. “Uncle Paddy?” her voice strained. “Don’t you die on me.”
The old man groaned. “I’m still...this side...of the ground, girl.”
She smiled. “Then give us a little help getting you out.” She held out her hand.
He placed his hand in hers and let her pull him to a sitting position, grimacing all the way.
Once he was upright, Jack touched Emily’s shoulder. “Let me.”
She stepped back.
Jack slid his arm beneath the old man’s shoulder and straightened, bringing him with him.
Emily quickly moved to her uncle’s other side and draped his arm over her shoulder.
Together, they moved him up the steps and into the doctor’s townhouse.
“Bring him into the back bedroom,” the doctor said. “I made up a bed for him.”
“We didn’t intend for you to keep him,” Emily said.
The doctor’s lips twisted. “Since he refuses to go to hospital, I’ll want to observe him overnight. Daphne told me what happened. Being beat up is bad enough, but at his age, the damage could be worse.”
Between the two of them, they got Emily’s uncle down a long hallway into the back of the townhouse and the bedroom the doctor indicated. Once they had him stretched out across the bed, Jack stood back.
“Are you going to introduce me to your fella?” the doctor asked as she pulled a pen light from her pocket and leaned over Paddy.
Emily’s cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. “He’s not my fella,” she murmured and then in a clear voice, she said, “Dr. Aoife Kelly, this is—” Emily’s brow dipped and she stared at Jack.
He was tempted to let her flounder, but relented. She’d been through enough that night. “Jack Collins,” he said. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Kelly.”
The doctor shined the light into Paddy’s eyes. “How do you know our Emily?” she asked.
“We only met tonight,” he said with a grin.
Emily’s brow pinched. “Actually, Jack...” she said his name as if testing it on her tongue, “saved me from being abducted by the men who did this to Uncle Paddy.”
“And Emily saved me from those men,” Uncle Paddy said. “She flew at them like a banshee.”
Jack cocked an eyebrow. “I missed that part.”
“You came when it counted,” Emily said. “I don’t think I would’ve lasted much longer. That man was crushing the air out of my lungs.”
“I’ll check you over when I’m done here,” Dr. Kelly said. Somewhere in another part of the townhouse, a sharp whistle blared. “That would be the kettle. You’re welcome to make a cup of tea while I see to your uncle.”
Emily backed out of the room.
“Let us know if you need help moving him,” Jack said.
“I will,” the doctor said as she unbuttoned Paddy’s shirt and listened to his chest with her stethoscope.
Emily led him back the way they’d come and turned into a small kitchen. She turned off the stove and poured hot water from the kettle into a teapot the doctor had placed nearby on the counter. “Do you drink tea?” she asked as the tea steeped in the pot.
“Since coming to work in the UK, I’ve learned to embrace the habit,” he admitted.
“Same,” Emily said. “Working in a pub, I serve alcohol all the time. Tea is a lovely break from spirits.” She poured the fragrant tea into two teacups. “Sugar?”
“No, thank you,” he said, his gaze following her every move.
As she carefully dropped a cube of sugar into one of the teacups, Jack was struck by the dichotomy of settings in which he’d observed this woman, from the dimly lit interior of a traditional Irish pub, serving beer and whisky to a rowdy crowd of men, to the brightly lit townhouse kitchen, swirling a small spoon in a delicate teacup, at home in either place. And from what Paddy O’Brien had said, she’d stopped the men from further hurting her uncle by throwing herself at them.
He took the proffered teacup and followed her to the small table in the corner of the kitchen, where a plate lay with several cookies. Jack laid his cup and saucer on the table and pulled out a chair for Emily.
She sank onto the chair and sipped at the steaming brew.
Jack sat across the little table from her, more intrigued than ever by the woman.
“So, Jack, is it?” Her lips twisted in a wry grin. “I can’t believe I’ve been driving around town with a complete stranger, and I didn’t even know your name.”
“Now that you know my name, we’re no longer complete strangers,” he said and lifted his teacup to his lips, taking a cautious sip. “You know, I’m a journalist looking for a story. I know you’re a pub owner with an uncle and a brother. But there’s a big gap in the story you and your friend were telling me at the pub.”
Emily frowned. “Gap?”
“Between your mother taking you and your brother back to live in the States and how you came back to Ireland.”
Her frown lifted. “I’ll fill that gap if you tell me more about yourself.”
“Deal,” he said. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know about me.”
Except for the real reason I’m in Ireland.
He wasn’t there to get a story. Well, not a story that he’d print in a magazine.
He’d been sent by the Brotherhood Protectors International to find the source of some damning online propaganda being spread throughout the Emerald Isle and the United Kingdom. That propaganda was effectively stirring up old hatreds that had been put to bed with the signing of the Good Friday Agreement, which brought to an end the Troubles that had plagued Ireland and claimed more than three thousand five hundred Irish lives.
From what Emily had said about disappearances and accidents, propaganda wasn’t the only problem growing on the Emerald Isle.
Suddenly, a little sleuthing to find the source of online flamethrowing was expanding into something more dangerous, possibly out of his depth and what the Brotherhood Protectors could quietly bring under control.
He’d have to get his team to weigh in on the possibilities. And now that he’d interfered in a hazing, he could become a target or have his cover blown.
“So, Jack Collins,” Emily set her teacup down, leaned her elbows on the table and pinned him with her gaze. “What’s your real story?”
His pulse quickened. Was his face that transparent? Had she guessed he wasn’t what he’d claimed? “What do you mean?” he asked calmly, lifting his cup from the saucer, hoping the movement would deflect her gaze.
Emily shook her head. “I’m usually a pretty good judge of character. Based on how you handled those men in the alley behind the pub and then spotted our tail, there’s no way you’re just a journalist looking for a story. You have the bearing and strength of a man in the military. What are you, really? And how did you just happen to be in my pub on the night my uncle was attacked? And is Jack Collins your real name?”
Confronted by her piercing gray-blue eyes, Jack’s hand froze with his teacup halfway to his mouth, wishing it contained whisky.
Busted.