22. Cian
Cian
A few days later, I was released from the hospital.
Skylar had been discharged already but refused to leave.
She stayed in my room, and no one said a word.
I had no idea what all Sean had promised the hospital, but I didn’t care.
When she was there, I could sleep. If she left the room and I drifted, the nightmares came—hard and fast. Orson, Anthony, my father, and Skylar—all mixed in with blood and pain.
I couldn’t save either my father or Skylar, and I would wake up, hoarse from screaming and trying to get to them.
Only Skylar could calm me down. I had a feeling the hospital was glad she was with me.
Michael came by a lot, which was great, until I realized it had far more to do with the pretty dark-haired nurse named Dawn than it did with his worry over my well-being.
I did notice how much easier his smile appeared when she was around and how often he laughed in her presence, so it was a good thing in the end.
I was glad to be released—free from the IV and constant checkups—the sounds and smells of the hospital. I felt better simply being back at the farmhouse, Skylar tucked beside me on the sofa. The nightmares eased off—although I wasn’t sure they’d ever stop.
The next couple of weeks were spent mostly with Frank going through the entire operation.
Statements, procedures, mistakes—it was all laid out, pored over, dissected, and analyzed.
Sean was there, backing me up, as was Harper, miraculously back from the dead.
Michael came in his official capacity, adding in his own accounts of the events.
Once everything was finished—considering how many criminals and drugs had been removed from the playing field, plus the fact that a major organization had been dismantled, and the head of it deceased—the operation was considered a success.
Both Sean and I immediately resigned. Harper had already done so. Sean handed over the passcodes for the accounts where Orson’s money had gone, including the five million Orson had advanced to “Anthony.”
There was no trace of the account where the second five million had been stashed.
It wasn’t mentioned in any report by either Sean or me.
We both conveniently forgot to mention it.
I knew it would never even show up on any of Orson’s computer files either.
It was going to make life easier for some people, including Harper and, if he would let me, Michael.
Frank had arranged for me to have all the “trophies.” Skylar and Julia were busy tracing the owners for as many of them as they could, using Orson’s notes and, at times, even Anthony’s journals.
I watched Frank leave, grateful it seemed to be over.
Skylar came into the room, carrying a small ice pack.
She knew my shoulder and chest would be aching.
Reaching out my hand, I pulled her close, kissing the top of her head.
Her bruises were fading, the bandages gone.
The cut on her throat still haunted me, but I knew it would fade.
“Hey.”
“Hi.” She smiled up at me. “Is it done?”
“I think so.”
“You’re a free man?”
I grinned. “Until you agree to marry me, yes.”
She slipped away, throwing me a wink over her shoulder. “Don’t hold your breath, fuckwit.”
I chuckled. Miss Mouthy was never far away.
Sean held up his hand. “Don’t go. Skylar, I need to talk to Cian, and you should be here.”
I met her gaze and shrugged, not sure what he had to tell us.
“What?” I asked, sitting on the couch and letting Skylar press the ice pack to my shoulder and chest.
He sat across from me. “Before he died, Anthony changed his will.”
“And?”
“He made me executor, and he left his entire estate to you. I’ve been going through the numbers—it’s about thirty million.”
I gaped at him as I sat up, wincing at the pain caused by the sudden movement. “That fucker killed my father—your brother! I don’t want his fucking blood money.”
Skylar laid her hand on my arm. “Cian,” she pleaded. “Relax.”
Sean shook his head. “I told him you wouldn’t want his money. I don’t want it either. But I have an idea.”
“What?” I snapped.
“We could set up a foundation. Get Julia and Skylar to run it and use his money for good. When you return the items to Orson’s victims, find out what they need in their lives and provide it.
We can arrange for windfalls for them and for other victims of crime.
Take something negative and do something positive with all the money. ”
“That’s a great idea, Sean,” Skylar commented with a soft smile. “Think, Cian, of all the homeless people you could help. All the pain you could ease.”
I leaned my head back and drew in some calming breaths. They were right. I knew they were. The money would benefit so many. It was the way the money was procured that stuck in my throat.
“Cian,” Sean urged me, “Anthony Malone felt nothing for other people. Doing something worthwhile with his money—making a difference, a positive difference in someone’s life—is the best way to screw him. He’d hate it.”
“Why did he leave it to me?”
Skylar spoke up. “Maybe you’re wrong, Sean. Maybe when he was dying, he realized he needed to atone and somehow he knew you would do the right thing. That’s why he left it in both your hands.”
I snorted. “Not likely. That bastard didn’t think about anyone or anything. Ever.”
She shook her head. “That’s not entirely true. He loved his sister. So somewhere in there was a human being.” She stood. “You do what you think is right, Cian. Don’t touch it and let it waste away, like he did with his life—or do something good with it and help people.”
Then she left the room.
I sat back, watching her retreating figure.
“She walks softly and carries a big stick,” Sean mused.
“She does.”
“She’s right.”
“We’ll let her and Julia decide what to do with it.”
“I can invest it so we can keep doing good things for years—the rest of our lives.” He paused. “Maybe one day, you might change your mind.”
“I doubt that.”
“Technically, once I invest the money, the interest it makes is your money. It was never Anthony’s. You don’t have to touch the capital.”
I glared at him.
“You’ve taken steps to make sure Harper and I are looked after. And Michael, now.” At my look, he shrugged. “I know you, Cian, and how your mind works—I know exactly what you planned on doing with that account. I knew it from the moment you had me set it up. But what about you? Skylar?”
Skylar and I had discussed this. She knew I had to take care of the people who’d helped me, and she agreed with me. I hadn’t thought of keeping any of Orson’s money for myself. I didn’t want it.
“We’ll be fine. I have the insurance money from Dad you invested for me.
I’ve never touched it, and it’s a good nest egg.
We’re both young. We can work, and as long as we’re together, we’ll be fine.
We won’t be rich, but I’ll take care of her—she’ll never need or want for anything. I’ll keep her safe.”
“And I’m going to make sure you’re okay.” He held up his hand again, not letting me speak. “That’s my job, Cian. And I take it seriously.”
I could only nod.
He stood. “Take your time. Think about it. Meanwhile, I’ve made the arrangements. We can leave soon. We need to get the fuck away from here. We all need to clear our heads so we can move forward.”
Sean had an old client who had a secluded estate in Mexico, and he had generously offered it to us for an unlimited amount of time.
It had a large main house and two guesthouses with a private beach, offering all of us the privacy we needed, as well as a central place to gather when we wanted to get together.
It would be the perfect spot to try to find some peace.
Unwind away from the world until we decided where our place was in it.
We had no plans after that. Sean talked about opening his own security company again and taking easy cases.
Some days, I thought about joining him. Others, I thought about simply taking Skylar, finding the smallest town in Canada, and living the quietest life I could imagine.
Pump gas and watch football on Sundays. Raise a family and forget the past.
It changed daily. I knew I couldn’t decide my future until I settled my past. The only thing I knew for certain was Skylar was going to be part of my life. She was my future.
But Sean was right. We needed to go.
“Okay.”