“You and Ma are here.”
He felt the burn of his father’s stare and slowly turned and looked at him. “What?”
His father’s scowl unnerved him just a bit. The man had had a stroke but Shane could still remember his father physically taking him down when he’d been a snotty teenager. He was still his father.
“Don’t be telling me you gave up a sweetheart like Keara because you wanted to stay here with us. Jaysus.”
“Da. You need me. You want to stay in the house as long as you can, but it’s too much for you alone.”
His dad cursed again. “I can’t fecking believe it. You fecking mongo sap.”
Shane winced and wished for more whiskey.
“Hell yes, we like to have your help. And we like to have you around. But we could manage without you.”
Shane stared at his father’s pale blue eyes, snapping and lively.
“Your mother and I have been talking about moving to that new seniors’ complex over by the river,” he continued. “Betty and Dougal are there. And others we know. It’s a nice place and we think we’d enjoy it.”
“What?” Shane sat back in his garden chair. “The seniors’ complex?”
“Yes. Why not? It’s time.”
“But…the house.” Shane waved a hand. “The yard. You love your yard.”
“I do. But…” He sighed. “I can’t expect you to keep helping me with it forever. Those apartments have a nice little patio and I could plant some pots…that’s enough for me these days.”
“Are you serious?” Shane shook his head. “You’re just saying that.”
“No, Shane, me boy.” His dad tipped his head and smiled. “You can still visit us there.”
Shane nodded. “Wow.” He stared again into the distance. “How long have you been thinking about this?”
“A while.”
Maybe he could have gone to LA with Trista. Bah. Her memory flicked in and out of his head so quickly it barely registered. Thank God he hadn’t gone to LA with Trista. He’d thought he’d been broken-hearted when she’d left, but it had been nothing like what he felt now.
Keara. His chest ached.
“Shane. When Trista left…we figured you wanted to stay here. And you got over her pretty quick, so we thought it all worked out for the best.”
Shane nodded and looked down into his empty glass.
“But don’t do it again. If you love Keara, for God’s sake, go to her. If it means moving away from here, so be it. No offence to your ego, but we’ll live without you. Maybe you could visit once in a while.”
Shane’s throat tightened. He pushed out his mouth as he regarded his father. “You’re serious. I can’t believe this.”
“Shane.” His mother’s soft voice spoke from the French doors to the house. “We love you. We never intended for you to sacrifice your life for us. We never expected that.”
“I’m not sacrificing my life,” he growled. “You’re my parents. It’s what I’m supposed to do.”
His parents smiled at each other. “We did a fine job of raising him, don’t you think?” Ma said.
“Too damn fine.”
“It breaks my heart to think that you let Keara go because of us,” she said to Shane.
“I didn’t let her go,” he snapped. “She left and I couldn’t stop her.”
“Did you try?”
He bent his head and rubbed his mouth.
“You didn’t even try,” she said. “You are a fecking eejit.”
“Ma!”
She laughed. “Maybe if you’d just asked her, she’d have stayed.”
“No.” He knew she had to go back. He understood why. He knew she had to prove something. Mostly to herself. He got that. But…
He looked up at his mother.
She hitched a shoulder. “We want you to be happy, a chroí. You’re not happy right now. I’ve never seen you so miserable.”
He wanted to deny it. But the words choked in his throat. Christ, he was lucky to have parents like these. He’d damn near driven them insane as a teenager, but their unconditional love had turned him into a man. A man with a sense of duty and responsibility. Only, now they were cutting him loose. They didn’t even need him anymore.
* * * * *
Keara stared at the dull metallic gleam of a gun.
A gun. All she could think was—a gun. Another freaking gun.
Adrenaline slammed through her bloodstream and she lifted her eyes and stared into the shadowed face. The man grabbed hold of her arm, and it would have hurt except for the thick fabric of her jacket. He yanked her closer, the gun pressed to her side.
Jesus. Jesus and Mary. What the hell was happening to her now?
He wasn’t tall, only about six inches taller than her, and not a big guy, but damn, he didn’t need to be big when he was holding a gun on her. His black hoodie draped over slim shoulders and the hood shaded his face so she couldn’t see it.
She tried to scream but it came out as a croaking cry. She glanced wildly around the lobby, but there was no one else there. Security cameras. But who the hell was watching them.
“Shut up,” he snarled, jerking her again and she made another pathetic noise.
“What do you want?” She’d give him her purse. That’s what you were supposed to do.
“Upstairs. Into your apartment. Now.”
He shoved her over to the elevators and stabbed one of the buttons. Her legs felt rubbery, like they didn’t belong to her, her entire body shaking like Jell-O What was he doing? Dear God, was he going to rape her? This could not be happening.
“I have money,” she told him, voice quavery. “You can have it all.”
He laughed. Laughed!
The elevator pinged and the doors slid open. Please, please let someone be inside.
Her prayers were not answered. He thrust her into the empty car and stepped in after her. He jabbed the button to the third floor.
Her eyes flew open wide and she stared at him. “Who are you?” she demanded. “How do you know what floor I live on?”
He didn’t answer. The gun gleamed in his hand. She wanted to
