“He wants to kill you. And, I think Diana, too.” She could be taking it all out of context, but she wouldn’t take the chance. Not until her brother helped her decipher everything and make a plan.
When her brother didn’t speak right away, her heart lurched and tears streamed down her face unchecked. What if he wouldn’t help her since his big boss had been involved?
“How do you know?” he asked again.
“I overheard it”—her words broke, admitting the truth— “at the minister’s house.” She sniffled loudly. “Boyle was there.”
“Feck. Get over here ASAP.”
Her heart sank, turning her stomach sour. Shushing her mind to the futility of the questions as to what he’d do to help her, she drove, feeling safer.
Chapter Five
On the drive to Declan’s home, the events of the afternoon had shifted and grown in Moira’s mind until paranoia had rooted its ugly self in her senses. She’d lost all track of the fact she’d only overheard something—probably out of context.
By the time she’d parked, that paranoia—which had her constantly checking the rearview mirror for a tail—had morphed into anger and outrage at the audacity of the threat. Nay, fear remained for her brother, but the thought of Boyle made her blood boil. Boyle and boil. Ha. If only she could actually laugh at it.
Her brother opened her car door before she could, and she launched herself out of the vehicle and at his chest. She allowed him to take control of everything. To her horror, a sob escaped when she secured herself in his arms. How could she be crying when she was so angry?
In a low, loving voice, he murmured, “Shh, my deirfiúr. I’ve got you.”
Declan calling her “sister” in Gaelic brought back all the times he’d been her protector growing up. Whether it had been a skinned knee or, apparently, a death threat against him, his arms always held the key to holding her together. This situation wasn’t fair.
Time passed slowly before she collected herself enough to function. Stifling the flow of tears, she searched his eyes through her watery ones and whispered on a broken note, “I don’t want you to die.”
Always prepared, he handed her a tissue, before leading her into his home. The place where the two of them had grown up in a loving family. The home that now held two additional people in it.
Moira had met Diana Boyle more than a year ago when Justin Franks—her and Declan’s American friend since childhood—had introduced them. Justin had stated he worked for her dad, but the two had been tight-lipped about who that man was or what exactly Justin did for him. Although rich and secretive, Moira hadn’t wanted to believe the amazingly nice woman was the daughter of a known drug lord.
She’d also not wanted to believe Justin worked for a criminal. From as early as she could remember, Justin and his family visited hers for nearly a month every summer. Their parents had a close relationship. But, for some reason or other, her family never visited the Frankses in the US. More than once, she’d asked to visit, but her parents always said it wasn’t possible. In her young mind, she’d equated that to mean they didn’t have enough money. They’d never been poor, but they’d never been described as well off.
During those younger days, Justin and her brother had been close. Danny, Justin’s younger brother by four years, hung out with them, but as a girl three years younger than Danny, she’d been banned from their antics. Not that she’d wanted to do some of the stuff the boys did at those ages.
Always kind, and probably feeling sorry for her, Danny made it a point to spend time with her during each visit. They’d walk, play, and she’d give him tours of areas that she’d later learned he’d visited many times. Danny never excluded her or made her feel like she hadn’t belonged. Justin hadn’t really either, but when the two oldest boys were together, she was treated as if she had the plague. As a child, it’d broken her heart when her brother had ignored her, but after the Frankses left, Declan became the attentive and loving brother he’d been before their visits.
She hadn’t seen or spoken with Danny since the family’s last visit when she was sixteen. From her brother, she’d later learned that their father had died on a DEA op. That’s when she’d found out that the sons had followed in their father’s footsteps and were both DEA. Scratch that, had been DEA. They’d left after their father’s death. Although she didn’t know the particulars, she’d understood the brothers hadn’t parted on the best of terms.
Justin, however, appeared two years ago, claiming to have moved to Ireland for work. From the beginning, Justin had described his boss as nothing more than an Irish businessman who dabbled in many things. When he’d just shrugged off telling her the name, she hadn’t pursued it. Truly, it hadn’t been her business. Though, she’d noticed tension between him and her brother that she couldn’t define.
When Justin introduced Diana, he’d informed Moira that escorting her was sometimes a perk of his job. Justin had winked at Diana when he’d said that, but Moira had only noticed the playfulness in it. Nothing felt sexual between the two. Like when you can’t stand to be near two people because the electricity is zipping back and forth.
Like when Diana and her brother were near each other.
That’s when she’d learned who Justin worked for and why the underlying tension existed between the two men. If it hadn’t been for Declan’s draw to Diana, she’d worried he might arrest Justin on the spot. However, the two men must’ve come to some agreement because the four of them spent time together.
When she’d told her brother about her discomfort befriending Diana because of her father, Declan convinced her to not hold that against the woman. Given that her brother
