8. Kyle
8
KYLE
Sienna isn’t reading my messages. I try calling her, and she doesn’t pick up, so I type one final message and hit send.
I don’t know what you’re talking about. Five minutes. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll come to the gallery.
Five minutes drag by so slowly it feels like five hours. I’m already in the elevator and on my way down to the parking lot before the time is up.
I call Bash from the car en route to the gallery. “What did you say to Sienna?”
“Huh?” I picture my brother scratching his head and messing up his hair. “What did she tell you?”
“Nothing. That’s the problem. She isn’t even reading my messages now.”
I hear Bash suck in a deep breath at the other end of the call. “Chill, man. She’s probably chewing on the end of a paintbrush right now, oblivious to your panic attack.”
“I’m not having a panic attack. You didn’t tell her that I sent you, did you?”
“Hmm…” Bash goes quiet.
I peer out of the passenger window. I’m still nowhere near the gallery.
“Why? She’ll never believe that buying some of her work was your idea now.”
“It was only a bit of fun, Kyle. I didn’t think she’d fall for it.”
I pause, repeating her messages in my head. “She said someone was following her. Did you see anyone hanging around when you left the gallery?”
“Only the bodyguard.”
“Bodyguard?” My heart rate quickens. “Who was he? Did you recognize him?”
“I wasn’t paying attention. I assumed he was there on your instruction?—”
I hang up.
Sitting forward in the back of the car, I ask Seamus to take a shortcut to the gallery. He’s been driving around New York City his entire life; I don’t pay him to keep me sitting in traffic.
It’s hard to keep still. Someone has posted a bodyguard outside Sienna’s gallery, and it isn’t me.
I call Terry. He answers almost before the phone rings. “Kyle.”
“Have you got a guy following Sienna?”
“No. You didn’t ask me to put someone on it, did you?”
“Shit!”
“Kyle? Do you need me to send someone straight over?”
“No, it’s fine. I’m on my way there now.”
Someone is watching Sienna. But the question is: who?
The first name that springs to mind is Nick Morris. But unless I missed a huge chunk of information regarding his current status online, he doesn’t have access to a personal security team. Maybe the person Sienna saw is a private investigator. So, whatever Nick Morris is hoping to find out about her is something that he doesn’t want to ask her personally.
The traffic seems to be moving more slowly than ever.
I’m almost tempted to get out of the car and walk the rest of the way when Seamus pulls up outside the gallery, and I watch Sienna climb into the back of a taxi with Mr. Morris. The guy is determined not to let her out of his sight.
“Follow that cab,” I say to Seamus.
Am I way off-track with this? Is the guy genuine, and I’m simply allowing my feelings for Sienna to cloud my judgement?
Before the thought fully materializes though, I know that isn’t the case. It’s too convenient that he waited for me to come back from Ireland before he started pursuing her, and now I have the name Caelan Murray waving red flags inside my head as well.
I keep my eyes firmly fixed on the taxi ahead of us, mentally urging Seamus to drive faster.
My phone starts ringing, and a picture of my mom appears on the screen.
Terry told her about our conversation.
I press the green button. “Mom.”
“Where are you, Kyle?”
“Right now?” I’m stalling. I can’t allow my mom to distract me before I know where Nick is going with Sienna. “I’m in the car.”
Silence.
Then Seamus stops the car and says, “The eagle has landed.”
We’re outside a restaurant in Brooklyn. I can see Nick holding the passenger door of the taxi open for Sienna. She climbs out, folds her coat across her chest, and stares at the white columns flanking the entrance and the gold lettering on the windows.
“I’m outside Gage and Tollner, Mom,” I speak into the handset. “Can you meet me for lunch?”
I make a reservation and wait for Mom to arrive.
By request, we’re directed to a table near the back of the busy restaurant, where I can see Nick Morris’s profile. Sienna is obstructed by a huge potted fern. I’ll know if she stands up, but until then, I’m more interested in her companion.
“You need to visit Caleb and Victoria.” Mom doesn’t even glance at the menu. “You haven’t seen your niece yet. She won’t be a baby for long.”
“I know. I will. I’m waiting till they’re home and settled in a bit.”
It’s an icebreaker; this isn’t the reason she called.
“What’s going on, Kyle? You looked so well, so … happy when you came back from Ireland.”
“I’m still happy.”
I order a pitcher of water from the server. She orders a brandy, neat. The smile fades as soon as he walks away. “This is me you’re talking to, Kyle. You’re back a week and already asking Terry to make inquiries about a cosmetic surgeon.”
“I didn’t ask Terry to make inquiries .” My eyes instinctively slide Nick’s way.
“I take it this is the guy sitting at nine o’clock with Sienna now.” Her expression doesn’t alter. I should’ve known she would register everyone in the restaurant before we sat down.
“His name is Nick Morris. He’s Sienna’s surgeon.”
“They’re not discussing invasive procedures over a steak and a bottle of red wine though.” She clasps her hands in front of her on the table. “Why are we here, Kyle? What’s bothering you?”
This is one of the things I love about Mom. She might not always agree with what her sons get up to, but she’ll listen to our reasons and form an opinion once armed with all the information.
I talk her through my first meeting with Nick Morris at the gallery opening.
“I wish I’d been there.” She shakes her head and follows the server’s progress as he returns with our drinks. “I’d have pulled him up on it.” She sips her brandy and studies me closely.
“Something doesn’t sit right with me.” Aside from the fact that we share the same violent asshole father.
I can’t mention Caelan to her. I haven’t even decided if I’ll mention him to Terry yet. The name is too close to home for all of us, and we need to remain objective about whatever the hell Nick is playing at.
“Okay.” Mom sits back in her seat. “I believe you. What do you want me to do?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. I can handle it.”
She flattens her lips together. “Firstly, whatever this is, we handle it as a family. Come on, Kyle. When have any of you ever had to resolve a problem alone?”
I fill my glass with water and drink half of it, tracking the cold liquid inside me. “Never.”
“Secondly, we make sure she’s being watched around the clock. We don’t want a repeat performance of what happened with Olivia Dragonetti.”
“Someone else is already stalking her. And she thinks it’s for me.”
“Okay.” She’s unfazed. “Terry will deal with that one.” She hasn’t glanced around at Sienna and Nick, but she’ll know the instant they move. Mom has a built-in antenna for this kind of thing.
I swallow. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth as Nick’s hand snakes across the table to touch Sienna’s. She moves her fingers out of reach, and I exhale slowly.
“And thirdly.” Mom waves a hand in front of my face to get my attention. “I don’t want you sliding back into the way things were before, Kyle. You’ve come too far.”
“I won’t.” I don’t even sound convincing to my own ears.
“Sienna will come to you when she’s ready. What’s for you?—”
“—won’t go by you.” I finish the idiom for her. “I don’t trust him, Mom.”
Mom covers my hand with hers. “We’ll get to the bottom of it. I promise.” She arches an eyebrow. “I could always go over there and introduce myself right now.”
I smile. “I don’t think that will be necessary. The less he knows about us the better.”
“Do you think this is about us then?” She narrows her eyes.
“I didn’t.” Until I discovered who his father is . “But I do now.”
“Go on.”
“Call it a hunch.”
Mom drains her brandy in one go. “That might work on Terry and your brothers, but you’re the lawyer of the family, Kyle. My steadfast tin soldier.”
“Didn’t he only have one leg?”
“You’re missing the point. He fell in love with the paper ballerina and stayed true to her despite everything that happened to him. What I’m trying to say is, you wouldn’t risk losing Sienna over a hunch. So, either there’s something you’re not telling me, or the Irish contingency did a better job on you than I imagined they would.”
I glance across the restaurant, but Nick is no longer there. I half-stand, knocking the table with my thighs and making the vase of flowers in the middle rock precariously. Sienna is still seated, her chin resting on her steepled fingers.
“Looking for someone?” Nick sneaks up on me without warning. The smile is still fixed firmly in place, but his eyes are cold like the Irish Sea on a winter’s day.
“Hello.” Mom is on her feet. She shakes Nick’s hand, dragging his attention away from me. “Moira Keegan. But you already know that don’t you?”
It isn’t lost on me that she dropped the Murray from her name when she introduced herself.
“Nick Morris.” If Mom caught him off-guard, he recovers quickly. “I met your sons at Sienna’s gallery.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there. Sienna is like family to us.”
His eyes flicker, but otherwise, his face is devoid of emotion. “That will explain the reason why you followed us here. You should’ve joined us. Sienna would’ve been only too happy to invite you to sit with us.”
“Oh no,” Mom says brightly. “We didn’t want to intrude. Besides, Kyle and I had family matters to discuss.” She keeps her eyes fixed firmly on him. “Good to meet you. Say hi to Sienna for me.”
She sits back down. Nick, recognizing when he has been dismissed, returns to his table.
I watch him sit down. He doesn’t look my way, but I sense that he knows he’s being watched. The fake smile returns the instant his ass hits the seat. I wait for him to tell Sienna that he spoke to us, but she doesn’t glance around, and within minutes, he signals the waiter for the check.
Mom is busy reading through the menu. She takes her time, trying to decide between the steak and the lobster. She doesn’t look up when she says, “Has he gone?”
“Aye.”
She closes the menu. “There’s something familiar about him. I don’t know what it is, Kyle, but you’re right not to trust him.”