Getting Lucky Page 17

  Yes, he’d noticed, all right. And his heart went out to her because he’d seen that behavior before in others—he’d seen it in his mom. He knew that it meant Shannon dealt with a lot of worries in that beautiful head of hers. And he could only imagine what having Callum Charlemagne for a parent had done to her.

  And now, all he wanted to do was hold her until she was better.

  But he couldn’t do that until he was free.

  Kicking the door shut, Sean raked a hand through his dark hair and opened his mouth to speak, but Jake cut him off. “You look like shit, man.”

  Yeah, well, he kind of felt like it, too.

  “Oh, and I brought this,” his mate added, and lifted up an enormous glass jug full of liquid. “I was helping Grandpop fix his distillery when I got your call. He overheard us talking and decided I should bring you some of his homemade moonshine to help ease your tension.” Jake smirked, holding the jug out to him. “Backyard contraband, compliment of Harvey Stone.”

  Sean took the big jug, surprised at just how heavy it was. “Thanks, mate. I might need this.”

  “Careful with it, though.” Aidan chimed in then as he sat down on the overstuffed couch. “That stuff will have you dumb as a post and howling at the moon after just a few shots. His granddad doesn’t joke round with his homemade liquor.”

  Jake grinned wide. “Remember that time in high school when we swiped his hooch because you were too nervous to ask Becky Hartwell to the prom and wanted some liquid courage?”

  Aidan nodded his auburn head, looking mildly pained. “How could I forget? I was so keyed up over that girl and wanted to make a good impression. But after three shots of that stuff I was so wrecked that I knocked on the door and ended up asking out her mother instead of her.”

  “Funniest thing of all was that she said yes,” Jake replied, laughing at the memory.

  “Please don’t remind me,” Aidan groaned. “I’m just glad that Mr. Hartwell let me leave in one piece after showing up drunk and hitting on his wife.” He glanced at them both. “That man still scowls when he sees me on the streets.”

  Sean broke into their banter, the heaviness of his situation weighing him down. It was time to do something about it. And there was just no easy way to come out and say it, so, “I’m in trouble and I need your help.”

  That got their attention.

  He looked at Jake. “Not too long ago you asked me when I was ever going to tell you the truth. Well, now’s the time.”

  For all of Jake’s grumbling, he was a damn good friend, so Sean wasn’t surprised when he placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Whatever you need. We’re here to help.”

  Aidan instantly nodded in agreement. “What can we do?”

  Because he didn’t know how else to say it, Sean began to pace the living room and just started rambling. “You both know I was boxer back in Dublin, right?”

  They nodded and Jake crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah. Continue.”

  Whew. This was hard. “I got mixed up in an illegal betting ring run by the mob just before my last fight—the one that I lost. The mob boss had a lot of money riding on it and thought that by making a side bet with me, I wouldn’t lose, that he could put some added pressure on me. You know, make me perform better, scare me into winning?” He shook his head, remembering. “Anyway, it didn’t work. I lost the boxing match and at the same time won the bet with O’Banion.”

  Aidan interjected, “What was the bet?”

  “Zeke,” Sean replied. “He bet me Zeke.”

  “So that’s why you showed up in town with no other possessions besides that colt.”

  Sean nodded. “Yes. I got knocked out that night, and when I regained consciousness I discovered I was in an old abandoned warehouse with O’Banion’s favorite hit man. He was about to kill me with Zeke standing in the corner.”

  Jake frowned. “I don’t get it. Why was the horse there?”

  “It was for show, really. O’Banion never meant to give me his horse. At any rate, his guy—Billy Hennessey—pulled out a knife and I attacked him. I knocked him out and, without thinking, grabbed Zeke and ran.”

  “O’Banion must not have been very happy about that,” he commented.

  Sean stopped pacing and pegged him with a look. “That’s why I’m in trouble. He found me.”

  “Fuck.”

  He nodded and resumed pacing. “Notice the cardboard over the window there?” He hooked his thumb at the busted window. “Billy shattered it when he attacked me and Shannon last night.”

  Both men shot to their feet. “Where’s Shannon?”

  “Safe.” Thank God. “I sent her back to New York.”

  “What happened to the guy who attacked you? Did he get away?” Aidan asked as he moved to inspect the broken window.

  “Billy did, yes. The bastard’s the same guy I fought that night back in Dublin.”

  “Wait. Is that the guy whose face you messed up? The reflection you thought you saw at the pub?” Jake asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Shit.”

  Pretty much. “I’m done, Jake. I’m really done running and hiding from these feckers. And that’s why I need your help.”

  Jake rubbed his hands together and smiled, his dark eyes full of bad intentions. “Oh, we’ll help all right. We’ll get you untangled from this mess. But first off, we should call the police.”

  Sean grimaced. “Can’t do that, mate. I’m here on forged documents under a false name. I’m not really legal, you see.” He gave him a pained look. “My real name is Sean Donaghy. So no police, please.”

  Aidan looked over his shoulder at them. “You can count on us, brother.”

  Relief hit Sean then and nearly buckled his knees. He hadn’t realized how much hearing that was going to mean to him. “Thank you.”

  “Hey, we took you in when you first arrived and made you a part of our family. No way we’d turn our back on you now,” Jake said seriously. “You’re one of us.”

  Moved, Sean pulled the pub owner to him for a brief, hard hug. “Thanks, mate.”

  “No thanks needed,” his friend replied, clapping him on the back before releasing him. “Now all we need is a plan.”

  “Right.” He hadn’t actually gotten that far.

  Just then a sound came from outside and all three men swiveled their heads in the direction it came from, their bodies growing still.

  “What the hell was that?” Aidan said.

  At that moment the front door flew opened and slammed against the wall. Three masked men rushed into the room, holding guns. Before Sean had time to react one of them grabbed him by the arm and pointed a gun at his temple. Panic leapt into his throat.

  “Yer coming with me,” the masked man said in an Irish accent. Then to the other men he said, “Grab these other two. We’ll take them too.”

  Both Aidan and Jake already had their hands in the air and were standing very still.

  Hoping to distract them from his friends, Sean found his voice and demanded, “What do you want?”

  “Why, yer prize horse, of course!” the thug currently pointing a gun at his head replied. “We’ve come to kidnap him just like we did his grandsire. Haven’t you read your history?”

  Zeke? The men were after Zeke? Is that what they’d been intending all along when they’d injured him at Belmont—to ruin his racing career, then steal him like they had Shergar and make him stand stud on O’Banion’s farm?

  No fecking way.

  Moving unexpectedly against the intruder, Sean grabbed the man’s wrist and squeezed down as hard as he could. His attacker cried out in pain and dropped the gun. Sean rounded on him and slammed his fist into his face, rammed his knee into his groin, and was already turning to help his friends when he crumpled to the ground.

  But they were already in motion.

  Jake had snatched the heavy jug off the coffee table and slammed his guy upside the temple with it, dropping him like a rock and taking his gun. Then he turned
to assist Aidan, who was dashing out the front door after the third masked man he’d just succeeded in disarming, the gun still skidding across the floor. Cursing, Jake sprinted after him, jug still in hand. Sean snatched the gun up from the floor, and wasn’t far behind.

  They’d just leapt from the porch when Aidan caught up to the intruder by the bed of his truck. Piles of wood hung out the back and Aidan reached for one, grabbing a scrap two-by-four and swung it like a baseball bat. He nailed the masked man on the back of the head and sent him sprawling face-first into the gravel. “Get up, you bastard!” he hollered, standing over the prone figure, his chest heaving.

  At that moment a loud crash came from inside the barn where Zeke was housed and horses began to stomp and whinny and neigh. Sean left the guys with the downed thugs and was in motion, flying through the small stand of aspens and over the expanse of grass that separated the house from the barns in an instant. As he closed in on the building, the barn door swung wide and three more masked men came hurtling out, Zeke right behind them. The horse was rearing and stomping and making all kinds of ruckus. One of the thieves tripped and fell.

  “Help me!” he yelled to his partners and raised his hands up over his face in a protective motion as he tried to scoot away. Zeke reared up over him, his hooves glinting in the sunlight, his eyes huge and white-rimmed.

  But the other men were already halfway across the grass.

  “Please, don’t leave me!” He cried out as Zeke’s hooves came crashing down, missing him by just inches. The horse’s halter rope slapped him in the face.

  Rushing forward, Sean shoved the gun in his waistband and gathered the loose rope, pulling his horse back from the fallen man. “Here,” he said to Jake who’d just arrived. “Hold him.” He handed the lead to his mate and spun on the intruder.

  Yanking him up by the collar, Sean stared into blank eyes and shook him hard. “Where’s Hennessey?” he demanded. The thug just smiled. So Sean punched him hard in the gut. “Tell me where Hennessey is!” he yelled again. Billy had to be around somewhere.

  The thug doubled over coughing and sputtered between gasps, “He knows your broad’s in town and he’s looking for her.”

  Shannon.

  Cold dread swamped him. “How does he know where she is?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Not in that instant, so he let the masked man go. He didn’t stop him when he leapt up and began racing away. It was probably a mistake, but the only thing his mind registered was that Shannon was in danger. He had to find her.

  Tim came bursting through the gap between barns then, panting hard. “What’s going on? Is everybody safe?”

  Not yet.

  Sean pointed at Zeke, who was still wide-eyed and snorting but was standing calm with Jake. “Take him and don’t let him out of your sight.”

  Just then Aidan arrived and said as he tucked the third gun in the waistband of his jeans, “Found this in the house. Also, I took care of the masked jackasses and tied them to that huge oak tree in your front yard with some bungee cord I had in my truck.”

  Sean shot him a look of thanks and said as he turned back to Tim, “Call the police. They can handle the thugs.” Then he turned to his brothers. “You two come with me. We’ve got to find Shannon.”

  He didn’t wait to see if they’d follow because he knew they would.

  Family protected what they loved.

  And he, he loved Shannon. His beautiful, sweet Shannon. Whom he’d sent away in an attempt to keep safe but was now in even more danger. She was alone and vulnerable with a killer after her.

  So he ran.

  Chapter Twenty

  THE SUN WAS just starting to set behind Jasper’s Peak when Shannon’s father texted that he was in town: “Meet me in an hour. Your room.”

  Why was she doing this? Why was she letting herself be bossed around and told what to do like she was a little girl? None of his reasoning for sending her after Sean made any sense. In fact, none of any of this made any freaking sense at all!

  “So why the hell am I doing it?” Shannon said aloud as she hit the pavement in front of the Sweetbriar and started walking down the sidewalk. Her insides were twisted into knots over the whole thing, and she was so wound up that she couldn’t sit still. And now that she had an hour to kill, she decided to take a walk. Better than sitting around, spinning out and crying about everything. There was too much to process anyway, and it wasn’t going to happen in the time it took to fold a load of laundry. After she dealt with her father and whatever he wanted, then she could fall apart and weep for a week.

  Noticing June from the co-op up ahead with a group of ladies, Shannon ducked into a small alley between two buildings. There was no way she could be social right now—not with her emotions all over the place. Maybe later, but for now she was apparently going to explore Fortune’s treasures off Main Street.

  Forcing her attention onto her surroundings and out of the static in her head, Shannon entered a charming older neighborhood filled with enormous trees and turn-of-the-century bungalows. Lilacs in varying shades of purple bloomed alongside roses, creating a colorful display. As she walked down the quiet street, she noticed that a few alleys split off from the main road. She was just looking down one that opened up between two huge bushes to her right when movement caught her eye. A person in a dark hooded sweatshirt opened up a wooden gate and slipped into a private, fenced back yard.

  Blinking hard, Shannon shook her head in denial, but her stomach plummeted. She knew what—who—she’d just seen. And there had been blood on his jeans.

  Sean’s attacker, Billy Hennessey.

  Without thinking, Shannon turned down the side alley and slowed her pace to a leisurely stroll. She wanted to see if she could catch anything between the fence’s boards when she passed. As she drew closer, she could make out the sound of people talking.

  Reaching the property line, Shannon noticed the large garbage and recycling cans that were set near the gate. She crouched down near them, hiding herself, and pretended like her shoelace was untied. As she retied it, she looked through the space between the boards directly in front of her.

  At first she couldn’t make out much of anything as her eyes struggled to adjust to the narrowed perspective. Then she could see a simple grass lawn and concrete patio. There were no personal effects around the yard, no toys or tools or ornaments. The only items in the small space were a glass-top patio table and chairs. Mostly the place looked empty.

  Was Sean’s attacker breaking and entering?

  But just then a loud creak sounded as the back screen door swung open. The sleaze Hennessey who’d hurt Sean stepped out onto the concrete patio. Just seeing him made her stomach squeeze painfully and had fear skittering up her spine.

  He had dead eyes.

  He was speaking quickly, but his accent was thick and she had a hard time making out what he was saying. Momentarily frustrated, she was about to stand up and look for a closer spot where she could hear better, when it occurred to her that she had her cell phone on her. And it had recording capabilities.

  “Duh, Shannon.” She muttered under her breath and pulled it from the back pocket of her jeans.

  A dog barked to her left suddenly and she jumped, her already rapid pulse going haywire. Almost panting, Shannon fumbled with her phone until she found the camera app and tapped it open, then hit the little video camera in the bottom corner. Then she held it up and focused it on the hit man through the gap in the boards. She just hoped that the mic might pick up what she wasn’t able to hear on her own.

  With her gaze swapping back and forth between her phone display and watching the real thing, she didn’t notice the door creak open again. Didn’t notice the two men who stepped out of the house until they came into focus on her phone. But when they did she let out a small cry of anguish. It couldn’t be!

  Shannon looked from her display through the board gap and back, not wanting to believe it. But no matter how much she wanted it to be di
fferent, the proof was right there being recorded on her phone. Only she didn’t know what it meant—except that it had to be really, really bad.

  Because there on her display—and there in person—was her father, Callum Charlemagne, standing next to a short, stocky, barrel-chested man and Billy Hennessey. They were deep in conversation and she strained to hear what they were saying.

  “Do ye have what ye owe me?” the other guy said, speaking in his heavy Irish accent.

  “I don’t have your money, O’Banion. Not yet anyway”

  O’Banion? Wait a minute.

  The man lit a cigarette and took a drag. “Well, now, that’s bloody unfortunate.”

  Her father held out his hands in supplication and said in a voice she’d never heard before—a scared one. “Mickey, please. I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me over the years, ever since I first got into debt with you. I’ve made good, haven’t I?”

  O’Banion laughed, the sound as warm as a block of ice. “Not even feckin’ close. Do you really think that using your farm’s stud fees to launder me money is enough to make good on all the money you’ve borrowed over the years? Christ, ye been gambling me own fecking money! Ye think that don’t make me pissed?” The mob boss spat on the ground, his face contorting angrily. “If I didn’t need yer fecking farm for me business, I’d have slaughtered ye like a pig already.”

  Her father went pale at that and he pointed at his chest emphatically, though his hand was trembling. “I am the one who discovered Sean Muldoon for you after making the connection between his horse and Shergar. You should be thanking me.” He ended, his voice weak and shaky.

  Shannon went very still as something occurred to her, something that made her stomach uneasy. Is that why her father had gotten weird when she’d mentioned Sean’s boxing days? He’d told her the information was helpful. And now that she thought back on it, he’d sounded almost excited too. And then he’d hung up on her. God, had that seemingly innocent information actually been an important clue in locating Sean?