Chapter 59
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Almost Three Months Later
TALLY
T he internet is slow, and while I wait for the secure line to connect, I go to find where I left Rafferty’s hoodie. Like always, the view out the massive windows in my cottage pulls my focus and I get lost in view.
Though I wanted to go to Canada, the witness protection program denied that request, finding me a safe house in Turin, Italy, instead.
I can smell garlic floating up from downstairs. If I try hard, I can hear pots and pans clattering together.
“Tally, are you with me?” Joe’s booming voice pulls me back to the screen, and a fresh wave of anxiety pools in my stomach.
Tugging the collar of my shirt, I drop Rafferty’s hoodie on my chair, sitting on it and making sure it’s hidden from view before I give permission to my laptop to access the camera.
The television screen mirrors my laptop. If it was just Joe and me, or me and the psychologist, I’d only use my laptop. Given the importance of the meeting, the bigger screen felt justified.
Joe’s face comes into view, his eyes full of the same worry, relief, fear, and hope I saw when I first woke up in the hospital.
“Hey, kid. You’re looking good.”
Instead of answering, I fiddle with the hearing aid, turning the volume down so Joe doesn’t sound like he’s yelling at me. But there comes a point when I can’t avoid talking anymore too.
My smile feels like a grimace, not a true representation of how I’m feeling but close enough. “I am good.”
“I know.” He holds up my latest medical report, like a proud father boasting his kid won “most improved.”
“How do you think today will go?” I ask, distracting him a little but giving me something else to focus on too.
The last few months have, quite bluntly, sucked arse.
Nearly dying, then trying to recover from the effects of nearly dying, along with rehabilitating numerous injuries, including skin grafts for my finger, while in witness protection, has been hard.
Staying away from Ireland has been another battle entirely.
So, despite being alive, and generally being glad I am alive, the past three months are not something I’d ever want to go through again.
Joe clears his throat, pulling me out of my head. “You don’t need to make any decisions today. It’s the board’s decision on your case and a few others. You and I have gone over how they’re likely to vote, but if it doesn’t work for you, we appeal their decision.”
“Joe.” I lean forward, and if I was in front of him, I’d touch his arm. “If they offer medical retirement, I’m taking it.”
Being this close to the screen, I don’t miss the flare around his eyes as I shock him.
I get it, though. I’ve been fighting hard against the idea, instead putting everything into regaining my strength, physically and emotionally.
I wanted to be reassigned to the academy, where I could apply my experience to helping others survive working undercover. But not now.
He sits back in his seat, and I follow suit. I don’t push to know what he thinks, he’ll support me no matter what. At the end of the day, the only person who needs to be okay with walking away from their dreams is me.
Joe leans out of camera and reappears with his bottle of Scotch and our two glasses. He fills them both, and then moves one closer to the screen, almost as if I was sitting across from him.
He looks off-screen, a quick, genuine smile pulling his lips up before he swallows the Scotch in one gulp. Rubbing his chest as he speaks, he says, “I’m so fucking proud of you, Tallula Rose.”
I laugh, but I know it doesn’t reach my eyes. “Wow, you must be. You haven’t called me that in a very long time.”
He’s on a roll, though, talking and sharing. “Your mother would be prouder. You got the answers we’ve been looking for. Liam will be at peace. How could he not? His cousin has never stopped searching for him. And because of you, we’ve been able to shut down another child abduction ring.”
He might be speaking the truth, but I feel like he’s punching me right in the throat. Acid burns on the back of my tongue, and the room starts shrinking around me.
Tearing out the hearing aid and running straight out into the snowstorm is, according to my therapist, a normal reaction. Not sure I agree, but I’ve done it enough times now to recognize it is how I cope. Whether it’s right or wrong doesn’t come into the equation.
I know it’s not Joe’s words, or seeing him again, that triggers me. It’s just my mind protecting me.
Without my hearing aid, it feels less busy in my head.
The snow, and cold therapy is equally necessary.
It eats at the dark abyss of failure that constantly nips at me.
I’m having a hard time letting go of the truth.
Discovering Oscar was responsible for Liam’s abduction, and Noinin’s, is also admitting that, if I hadn’t mentally tapped out on that day years and years ago, the two of them might still be alive.
Being too young just doesn’t cut it with me.
My therapist’s pragmatic voice of reason says otherwise. Remembering Oscar’s involvement, and O’Leary’s, and reporting them to the police would have likely had the same outcome, because the police were on their books. Still, it’s a very difficult hurdle.
Much like how Ronin and I share the same trauma is also something I find too hard to process. The depth of pain I inadvertently caused him, and his family, is real and deep as the responsibility I feel for Liam’s death.
A steady, firm touch on my shoulder causes me to scream in fright while also trying to jump to my feet. Special Agent Harris, though, is faster than I am. He needs to be. He’s also getting used to chasing after me.
“Tally! Look at me. You’re okay.” He yells loud enough for me to hear over the roaring jet engines in my head and the blizzard-like conditions. He also talks slow enough I can make out some of the words he mouths.
“You’re okay?” He cocks his head, crouching down to my level, his hands spread wide.
Yes? No? I still don’t fucking know.
“No. You are okay. Every day, you’re getting better. We’re just having a shitty start to today,” Harris mouths back. He’s careful not to touch me, because much like some topics send me spiraling, so does his touch. Or anyone’s touch.
The wind whips around us, and I watch the snowflakes turning his black beanie white. He wants me back inside. I want back inside, too, but I have to wait out in the freezing cold until the clawing need to run lets up.
He passes over Rafferty’s hoodie. Pulling it on, I curl into a ball, resting my head on my thighs, closing my eyes and opening my memories. The scent of pack curls around me protectively.
Rafferty’s wish I become addicted to them happened. And like a real addict, I constantly chase the same relief their scent and presence first brought. I’m not yet ready to admit that his hoodie no longer smells like him.
I stay in my head and wait out the storm, already knowing enough about my stubborn self to understand I’ll start thinking about going inside when I’m ready. Eventually, the inevitable happens and I sit up.
It’s no surprise that Harris isn’t sitting with me in the freezing cold. Nor am I shocked I’ve got one of those all-weather arctic blankets tucked tight around me. Or my walking stick stuck in the snow.
My leg is like a solid block of ice, and I have to get up in stages, using the walking stick to lean on. Limping inside takes all my energy. When I finally push open the door inside the cottage, all the noise in my head, and the weight in my chest, is noticeably better.
Harris has turned off the screen I was going to use for the meeting and moved my laptop over to where I always sit, next to the roaring open fire. He’s also set water, medication, and a note saying he’s doing a perimeter check on the small table.
I honestly don’t think I need to be in witness protection anymore.
Being placed in the program wasn’t because of Black, Doyle and the Fanning brothers either.
The four of them were arrested and taken into custody immediately.
And unsurprisingly, their investigation and subsequent trial was an open and shut case.
There’s no chance of early release because of the long list of crimes they were each found guilt of.
Witness protection was because Oscar and O’Leary escaped.
It took a while, but eventually and only very recently, were they seen in America by INTERPOL.
But the authorities weren’t the only people looking, and before arrests were made, their brutal murders became headlines on international news.
The reporter absolutely nailed it when they alluded to the deaths of the “pair of Irish tourists” as being connected to the recent, and bloody, change of hands happening in the Irish Mafia.
Triple-checking the house is locked before I lock my part of the house, then my bedroom door, and finally the bathroom one too, I climb into the bath.
The bath salts nip like nasty bull-ant bites on my oversensitive skin, and the saline scent makes me wish I was somewhere else.
I force myself to sit submerged up to my chin, with my eyes closed and my gun in my hand until the water turns cold and my leg stops reminding me what a sap I’ve become.
Dressing in warm running gear—a girl can dream—I make my way back to the room where my day took a turn for the worst. Parking my arse in my chair next to the sofa, I call Joe before anything else.
He picks up almost instantly.
“Not as bad as the last one,” I quip before he can ask me if I’m good. “I’m back now, ready again. Sorry I had to dip out on the formal hearing, but my lawyer always said it was an optional thing. I take it she accepted medical retirement on my behalf?”
“She did. I’m only disappointed for you, Tal.
I wanted you to hear the glowing commendation you received from your field officer and a couple of others who spoke.
Johnny spoke very highly of you, for a long bloody time too.
You did incredible in your career. You helped a lot of people and were jointly responsible for us finding, catching, and prosecuting officers who were corrupt.
I keep saying it, but I really want you to know how integral your role was.
It’s my job in your life. Letting you be humble and modest over your career won’t be happening on my watch.
” He swings back triumphantly, looking very pleased with himself.
The hint of challenge in his features has me shaking my head at his antics.
“Are you sure you want to come and visit me? Harris will be able to tell you things get pretty whacky around here some days.”
He rolls his eyes. “Of course I’m coming. We can talk about investing your pension. And your lump-sum payout.”
“So they approved everything?”
“How could they not?”
I don’t have an answer for that.
“What are you going to do, Tal?”
And I know he’s not referring to investing money.
Besides doing hours of physical therapy, I’ve been working through the legalities of actually being married to Pack O’Connor, as well as discovering what my husbands have done, besides murdering evil Alphas that deserved to be tortured until the end of time.
My lawyer was the one who stumbled upon the shelf company, Youre ár gceann-na Enterprises.
The instant she mentioned it, I was transported back to the first night at the apartment, after the whole Rafferty thing.
The note I found propped on the counter, explaining the lights and welcoming me to the apartment, was signed Youre ár gceann-na Enterprises.
I’d always assumed Ronin had got his “you’re” and “your” mixed up.
But of course he hadn’t. The translation roughly translates to You are Ours Enterprises.
As if that didn’t make me bawl like a baby and spiral like a leaf in the wind.
When I came back up for air, the shocks continued.
Not only did Pack O’Connor always see me as their wife legally, I’d been the only shareholder in several associated shelf companies owning more property than any one person should own.
All through Ireland too. They’d diversified in what they’d purchased, but it was always property in the less affluent, the less touristy parts of the country.
The last, equally shocking, discovery—I was the only beneficiary listed in the last will and testament of Ronin, Keegan, Rafferty, and Tynan O’Connor. So yeah, if I was brave enough, I’d never have to work a day in my life.
Joe clears his throat, no doubt seeing me drifting away from his question about what I’m going to do.
“Wait for your arrival. When do you get here? The weather is terrible. I doubt we’re getting any commercial flights for a few days.”
He leans forward again, a weird look in his eyes. “Tomorrow morning, Tally. Make sure you’re up nice and early. And, kid, prepare yourself.”