Chapter Thirty
Caity
The elevator doors closed, and I heard Dread chuckle.
“Boy, he is pissed.”
I snorted, choosing not to acknowledge Cian’s childish behavior.
I’d be lying if I said his jealousy didn’t make me wet.
But now here I was in an elevator with a man who, while absolutely fucking hot, was in fact closer to my daughter’s age, and for that reason alone would never be someone I would sleep with.
“I’m sorry I got you involved in that.”
“Don’t apologize. I wasn’t lying when I said you were fucking gorgeous. But I knew the score as soon as he stepped into the hall. That man is obsessed with you. I knew I didn’t stand a chance.” Dread winked at me, and I smiled. “I still want to have lunch with you. Did you know Darcy? King’s mom?”
“I did. She was one of my closest friends,” I answered.
“Did you know anything about why she left?”
I shook my head. “Not at the time, no.”
“And now?”
The elevator opened, and we stepped out into the lobby, then out into the city.
The motorcycle on the street was beautiful.
I’d never been on one and considered, for half a second, asking for a ride.
But I knew what it meant. After we learned about King, I’d done some reading into motorcycle clubs.
I hadn’t met my nephew yet, but I wanted to know as much about his life as I could.
“There’s a nice place right down the street here.” I pointed it out, and Dread nodded.
We walked in silence until we entered the restaurant.
“Caity!”
I smiled at Lucy as she walked toward me, her arms open wide, engulfing me in a warm hug.
Lucy Travers was an implant from the West Coast. She’d grown up in Oregon, on the outskirts of a small town.
She’d always dreamed of living in the city, New York being her first choice, but like it was for many people who didn’t grow up there, she found it too overwhelming. Instead, she chose Boston.
Big-city life without big-city problems.
It was a bonus for us because the woman could cook like nothing I’d ever tasted.
“Hi, Lucy. I’d like you to meet Dread.”
Lucy looked behind me, and her eyes went comically wide. “Wow,” she whispered with awe. I shook my head.
Lucy was a few years younger than me and wasn’t hung up on one of her brother’s best friends, like I was, so I leaned forward and whispered, “After we have lunch, I’ll send him your way.”
Lucy’s smile beamed. “Follow me.”
I noticed the way Dread’s eyes followed Lucy’s ass as she walked ahead of us, and I knew he was interested. I got the impression that there weren’t many women Dread wasn’t interested in.
“Order whatever you like; it’s on me.” Lucy winked at Dread, and I swear the man blushed.
He bit his lower lip and watched her walk back to the kitchen. When he turned back to me, his mouth opened, and I held up my hand. “Let’s eat, then you can go find Lucy for dessert.”
Dread threw his head back and laughed so loud it drew the attention of the other diners.
“I like you, Caity O’Malley.”
“Well, I figure I owe you since you’re losing out on all this,” I said with a smile as I waved my hand over my body.
Dread laughed again and said, “Yup, I definitely like you.”
We ordered our food, and while we waited, we talked about why he was in Boston. He shared with me what King had asked him to do and admitted that Sal and Duncan hadn’t given him much to go on.
“In the elevator, it seemed as though you might know more than your brother.”
“I do. But what I know will change the lives of everyone who knew Darcy. And not for the better.”
“I’ll be honest with you, Caity. I count King as a friend.
It’s why I took this job on personally. My club is filled with men and women with special skills for locating what no one else can.
My fees are steep and they don’t always include money.
I don’t normally leave Florida. I send out my club brothers and sisters depending on who has the right skill set for the job. ”
I listened as Dread explained what his club did. Some of the jobs they’d completed in the past and the fees they’d acquired.
“King is caught up in shit that had nothing to do with him until it came out who he was related to. O’Malley is a small part of that. But what really did it was finding out who his brother was. Darcy Murphy walked away from two of her kids, and those kids deserve to know why.”
I leaned back in my chair, contemplating whether I could trust Dread with the information I’d found.
“I assume you know who my father was?”
“Of course.”
“When he died, my brother sealed up his office. All his files, all his secrets—they were locked up in there like a mausoleum. Until I moved home and opened it up. I picked the lock to Pandora’s Box and now the skeletons are dancing their way out.”
Dread studied me as I shared with him what I knew about Darcy Murphy and my father’s part in her disappearance. He had a small notebook and wrote down everything I said.
“The man you’ll want to talk to is Brian Buchannon.”
Dread’s head snapped up as he eyed me. “The head of the IRA?”
I nodded. “He’s mine and Sal’s cousin. We know now that it was Sal’s mother and stepfather who helped Darcy get away, but I also found information that Brian helped them.”
Dread slumped back in his seat. “Fuck, I hate flying.”
I chuckled at the look on his face. “You could try to call him, but he’d likely hang up on you the moment you mentioned Darcy’s name.”
“I guess I’m going to fucking Ireland,” he groaned.
The waitress brought our food, and I smiled up at her. Her eyes, however, were locked on Dread. I got it. The man was hard to miss, and hard not to stare at.
Once the server disappeared, I picked at my food. “So, Dread, you mentioned a lawyer named Mischief? Is she part of your club?”
“She is.” He looked up from his plate to meet my eyes. “Have you met her?” he asked cautiously.
I nodded, and he set his fork down and leaned back with a sigh. “Tell me.”
My eyes widened. My intention wasn’t to get her into trouble. But the look on Dread’s face told me he expected an answer.
Three weeks ago...
I’d been back in my father’s house for a week when there was a loud knock on the door. I wasn’t expecting the realtor until tomorrow morning, and I had already spoken to or seen everyone else who was important to me.
I opened the door and found a beautiful woman who looked to be in her early thirties. She was dressed in a sharp suit that had been made especially for her. Having lived in New York for the last thirty years, I knew a custom-designed suit when I saw one.
Her hair was jet black and shiny. Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“Why, yes, Mrs. Kelley, you certainly can.”
She stepped through the door, and I had no choice but to step back or be run over by her. She spun around the room as she looked it over, her eyes settling on me.
“I’d like to apologize. It seems you’ve gotten everything set back to rights.”
“Excuse me?”
“My... associates were a little heavier handed than they had permission to be. I assure you they have been taken care of and pose no further threat to you and your family.”
“You’re the person who sent those men to break into my house?”
I crossed my arms over my chest, a poor attempt to keep me from throwing a punch directly into the woman’s throat.
“Who the fuck are you?”
The woman smiled, and a chill ran down my spine. “You may call me Mischief,” she said as she absently waved her hand in the air. “You see, Mrs. Kelley; you have something I need.”
“And what is that?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at her.
“Information.” She turned and looked towards the kitchen. “I believe it’s good manners to offer your guest a beverage, is it not?”
“I believe it’s good manners not to break into someone’s home.”
“Touché.” Mischief smiled. “We’ll call it even, then.”
“Not hardly,” I muttered, but my upbringing won out and I made my way to the kitchen. Pulling two cups from the cabinet, I set out to make coffee as I waited for Mischief to get to the point.
“Are you selling the house?”
I looked over my shoulder at her and asked, “What makes you think that?”
“Well, it’s very sparse in here. Furniture only.” She waved her hand at the walls. “No personal touches.”
“Actually, yes, I am. It’s time to let it go.”
“You don’t ever let go of what haunts you,” she muttered to herself as she rubbed her arm. I chose not to question her words, but I did see her in a different light suddenly.
“What information are you looking for?”
“Mrs. Kelley—”
I interrupted her. “Please, call me Caity.”
“Caity,” she repeated with a small smile. “I am looking for someone, and I believe you have the information I need to find him. In your father’s office.”
“Well, maybe if the men you hired to break into my house had been less destructive, they would have found it,” I snarked.
“Again, I apologize. It is so hard to find trustworthy thugs these days.”
Her tone was flippant, as if she were trying to make a joke, but her eyes were serious. Whoever she was looking for was important to her. Whether that was good or bad was yet to be determined.
I set the coffee cup on the table in front of her and asked, “Who are you looking for?”
“I told her to let that shit go. She’s chasing ghosts that don’t want to be found.”
“Isn’t that what you’re doing for my nephew?” I asked.
Dread grinned.
“It is.” He nodded. “But some ghosts don’t just haunt us; they consume us. And I’m afraid that if Mischief doesn’t reel it in, she’ll be consumed again. And this time, she might not make it out.”
His warning was ominous. But I understood Mischief more than she might realize. Women needed answers. Especially when we’d been hurt.
We needed to know why someone had hurt us. Why they left us. We blamed ourselves; even knowing the truth that there was nothing we could do to change our path, we still blamed ourselves instead of the person who wronged us.
It was what I had been doing for years.
My father.
Every time he called me a name, I analyzed it, wondering how I could change. How I could make him proud.
My husband.
Every time he hit, I wondered how I’d pushed him over the limit. How I could make him love me.
And now Cian.
He’d kicked me out of his home and out of his life with no warning, no explanation. This time, I wasn’t blaming myself. This was a him problem.
I knew it would fuck with his head if I told him who his birth parents were. I just hadn’t expected him to run away from me. This was something we should have worked through together. It didn’t only affect him. It affected our daughter.
If word ever got out that Maddie was the granddaughter of Sylvia St. James and Henry Craven, people would come out of the woodwork trying to put her in a position to take over the Society. Or they would want her dead so she couldn’t.
The Society may have been disbanded years before, but not everyone was held accountable.