Hard Irish (6 page)

Mack lifted a brow.  “I promised Rory I’d take care of you.”

Rocky’s breath caught.  “When?  Did he say something before his stroke?”

“No.  I told him that when I saw him in the hospital.  Don’t know if he could hear or not, but if he could, I thought it would make him rest easier.”

She exhaled.  “He was worried about something before his stroke.  Did he say anything to you?”

Mack shook his head.  “Rory and I mostly talked about the jobs.  He did ask me if I thought you were happy a few months back and I told him that ditching Collin’s shadow had done you a world of good.”

“Do the words
Unforgivable, stop,
and
pray
in reference to my mother mean anything to you?”

“No.  Why?”

“Because Da said them to me today.”

Mack grabbed her shoulders.  “Really!  Was he able to do anything else?”

“No.  He spoke and then lapsed back into a blank vacuum.”

“Still.  It’s a good sign, right?”

“Yeah.”

Gravel crunching beneath a boot made Rocky shiver.  It was too dark to see far and the thought of someone purposely lurking in the shadows made her skin crawl.  She forced a smile at Mack, glad to have his support.  He was somewhere in his forties and looked as if he’d weathered of few of life’s storms and hadn’t always come out on top.

Mack looked around.  “Let’s get you home before they bring the fight outside.  I’ll be right behind you, okay?”  

Rocky nodded and climbed into her truck.  As she drove home, the feeling that her life had spun around and was careening blindly into the unknown overshadowed her.  Implausible events had happened.  Collin’s rage had reared an ugly head after staying on the sidelines long enough for her to almost forget him.  Her parents’ had death secrets that remained beyond her grasp.  And she’d been in the arms of a stranger whose kiss she didn’t want to forget—ever.

Jared knew to his core that only a fool, a dead fool, took his eyes off his opponent in a fight.  No matter what.  Still, when he heard the woman cry out, he glanced her way and it cost him.  If it hadn’t been for the mirror over the bar and James’s warning shout from the crowd, the woman’s bruiser of an ex would have nailed Jared at the base of his skull with a bar stool.  Instead, Jared took the brunt of the blow on his shoulder and ended up getting a bloody nose, before knocking his opponent out.

It was a good ten minutes before Jared reached James on the sidelines.

Two well-endowed blondes clung to him for protection.  He looked like the perfect knight in shining armor.  “I told Chloe and Ginger we’d walk them to their car.”

Jared nodded and headed for the front door.  Just maybe they’d get out before the cops arrived.  He’d yet to be able to let go of his nose and seriously wondered if he hadn’t broken the damn thing.  That’s what he got for sticking it into someone else’s mess.  He didn’t know the woman’s name, much less her number.

And while the kiss had been out of this world hot, the more he thought about it, the more wretched he became.  She was obviously a woman in a very bad situation and part of him felt as if he’d taken advantage of her.  He could have just as well busted her ex’s chops without having coerced her into an all-out public kiss-fest on a barroom floor.   Some class.  Some style.  Some hero.   It didn’t help that he hadn’t meant to carry the kiss that far.  The fact is he did.

He needed to find her and apologize and hope beyond hope that she’d want to see him again.  Because for the first time in a long damn time, maybe even ever, he really,
really
wanted to see her again. 

James pocketed both Chloe and Ginger’s number before seeing the blondes off—in a green mini-van.  Jared didn’t have to ask to know James would not be calling.  Mini-van meant kids and James had a rule that he didn’t date a woman with baggage.  Kids were complications he wanted to add on
his
timetable and not one already pre-set.

“You okay to drive?” James asked.

Jared tossed James the keys and headed for the passenger’s seat.  “Better safe than sorry.”

“You’re damn lucky not to be leaving in an ambulance.  That guy was bent on dealing you a lethal blow.  Was she worth it?  Did you get her number?”

Jared groaned and rested his head back as he nursed his nose.  “I didn’t even get her name.”

“Thought so or you’d be a lot more pissed right now.”  James shifted gears fast and pulled out onto the highway, nearly pushing the Porsche to ninety in mere seconds.

“What do you mean by that?  And for Christ’s sake slow down.  We can’t afford the ticket or the hospital bill.”

James downshifted and settled close to the speed limit.  “While you were kissy-facing the woman and bouncing her man, I asked a few questions.”

“He’s not her man.  He’s her ex.”

“With a lot more of a bone to pick with her than who gets custody of Fluffy.”

“Huh?  Are you saying she’s got kids with that jackass?”

“No.”

Jared cracked an eye at James.  “Then what?”

“Her name is Rocky McKenna.  She is currently the R. McKenna running McKenna Construction since her father fell ill last month. 
The very company putting us out of business.
  And her ex is Collin Brady, the son of her father’s business partner.  She ousted Collin from the company after their divorce three years ago.  He’d apparently been working for the company as long as she has, but she and her father have controlling interest.  According to gossip, she is one hard Irish woman and it isn’t because she wears a hard hat.” 

Jared pinched his nose as he felt another rush of blood.  “What a clusterfuck.”

“Actually no,” James said.  “It’s freaking perfect.  Today you were her hero.  And tomorrow, you’re going to waltz into her office and check things out.  You’re going to discover what illegal corners McKenna Construction is cutting.”

Jared’s denial died in his throat.  He would go see her tomorrow to apologize, but that was it.  Anything else they discovered would have to be done differently.  

Nursing a gourmet hot chocolate, Rocky nearly scalded her cleavage when someone pounded on the door.  She had the lights off, curtains drawn and taped shut, her doors locked, and her truck parked in garage.  She had 911 pre-dialed on her cell phone.  All she had to do was press
send
.  She even had her car keys in her pocket, just in case she needed a quick escape.  She had her shotgun loaded, but it was hidden and would stay hidden.  Shooting was the last measure she didn’t want to ever have to take.

It wasn’t until after Mack left and Rocky got to reliving what happened in the bar that she realized just how pissed and drunk Collin had been.  She had no doubt that he’d come after her.  Her heart pounded hard and her hand shook so bad she barely got the cup to the coffee table.

Another pounding knock was followed by a bark.

“Rocky?  It’s Dessie?  You okay?” 

Shuddering with relief, Rocky rushed to the door.  “You two are a sight for sore eyes,” she said, giving Dessie
and
Pebbles a huge hug.

“Can’t say the same about you.  You look like hell.  What’s going on?” Dessie pressed her palm to Rocky’s forehead.  “Last time your house was dark at nine at night you had the flu, a fever of one-hundred-and-four and needed the hospital.”

“I wish it was the flu.”  Rocky locked and dead-bolted the door as soon as Dessie and Pebbles were inside— actions that had Dessie raising both brows.

“Better dish out the whole story fast, girl.  I’m not liking any of this.”

Rocky spilled it all, starting from her father’s cryptic words, to Collin’s rage and to the stranger’s searing kiss.

“First thing, there is no point in worrying and wrangling about your parents’ stuff.  Time enough for that when you get your hands on something concrete.  God only knows what drives parents to leave confessions from the grave.  In my opinion if it wasn’t worth saying while alive then they should keep it that way.  Nothing you can do about it tonight, right?”

Rocky found herself nodding agreement.  Leave it to Dessie to put a mountain into anthill perspective.

“Second thing you’re going to do is spend the night with me and have a drink or two.  Any argument there?”

“Or three,” Rocky added, finding her voice amid the grateful rush of emotion.  If it wasn’t for Dessie, Rocky realized that she would really be alone, just as Uncle Pat had worried.

“The third thing is you’re going to tell me the last part of that story all over again.  The man-kiss part.  Damn.  He must be something.  To get you to do in seconds what I’ve been pushing you to do for years is beyond believable.”

Rocky laughed.

“The fourth thing we are going to do is figure out what you’ve got to do to be comfortable in your house and do it.  I know one sexy-as-hell bouncer you’d just love having around for a while and he’d make mincemeat of your ex.”

“Have I told you lately that I love you?” Rocky smiled through her threatening tears.  She hated herself for this weakness.  She wished like hell she could march right up to Collin, plaster his ass to the ground and walk away, leaving him to cower in fear.

“Not nearly enough, dear.  Now let’s get the PJ party on the road, but don’t forget your shotgun.  My Bessie hasn’t been oiled in a while, so no telling what she’d do in a pinch.”

“I’ll bring my kit and clean her up for you.” Rocky left the room, thinking what a difference a friend makes.

Everything from the day’s events and the past that had been crashing down on her moments ago had been pulverized to dust.  By the time she walked into Dessie’s house and cleaned her friend’s shotgun, she was almost wishing Collin did show up just so she could show him that she wasn’t afraid of him.

“You do that like an expert,” Dessie said.

“What?”

“Handle that gun.”

“With what goes on in today’s world, a woman needs to know the business ends of weapons.”

“Oh, I know the business end of a gun, doesn’t mean I can handle it like a, pro.”

Rocky shrugged.  “I’ll take you to the shooting range.  It won’t take you long to learn.” She set the unloaded weapons on the counter and washed the gun oil off her hands.

“Deal,” Dessie said moving into the living room.  “Speaking of hot guns.  What’s his name?  This miracle man who managed to kiss your socks off?”  She plopped down on her zebra print couch and sank deep into a sea of pink satin pillows.

Sighing, Rocky joined her.  “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never seen him before.  He just showed up in the middle of the bar fight and took on Collin.”

“This is great.  I’ll call Sally tomorrow.  She’ll be able to playback surveillance and we can ID your mystery man in a jiffy.”

“You sound like one of those high-tech spy shows.  You going to run his picture through a computer or something?”

“Honey, nothing so complicated as that.  If he was in that bar, he had to have had a drink, which means he had a waitress and these days he likely used plastic.  Just leave it to Dessie.  I will find your man.  What you have to decide is what you’re going to do with him when I do.”

That was one question she did not what to answer at the moment. 
Would
. 
Should
.  And
Could
, were often worlds apart.  “What did you decide to do with yours?” Rocky asked, turning the tables.

“My what?”  Dessie blinked.

“Your Redford hunk.  What did you decide to do with him?  And what is his name.  You’ve never said.”

“He goes by the name of Saint.  Don’t ask me why because there is nothing saintly to what his bedroom eyes incite.  But fantasy is as far as it will ever go.  The young man has a whole life to live in front of him.  I’ve lived most of mine already.  And even though I can be talked into gratuitous sex on occasion, wisdom demands that I draw the line.  He’s too young.”

“We’ll see,” Rocky said.

Dessie’s eyes went wide open then narrowed with suspicion.  “That’s exactly what he said.”

“Great minds,” she replied.

Dessie shook her head.  “More like insane minds.  Speaking of which, let’s go ahead and open the can of worms though there’s no place for them to crawl.  What’s this with your parents’ after death deliveries?  And what exactly did your father try and say?”

Rocky retold the story.

“Hmm.  So both your mom and your dad felt the need to leave you something to see after they’ve moved on to the Blue Sky Mansion.”

“Yes, according to Pat they have.  He’s got the box from my mother and supposedly the lawyer has stuff from Da.”

“You know this doesn’t sound like it’s going to be good, especially from your mom.  If it was just love-letters an ill-parent writes to their child, your father would have given them to you by now.  You also realize that the lawyer isn’t going to let you have any of your father’s things.  He’ll be bound by ethics and law to only deliver them after your father’s death.”  

“I can only try.  I have power of attorney for my father, so maybe that will make a difference.  I am more worried about the effect on my father’s current health.  He’s trying to tell me something important.  Maybe knowing their secrets will help.  Something needs to help me figure out what my father meant.  He loved my mother.”

“Close your eyes and think about her for a few minutes.  What comes to mind?”

Rocky followed Dessie’s lead.  “Quiet, gentle, creative.  She had dark hair like me, but her eyes were china blue and she had
fragile, handle with care
stamped all over her.  Whereas I’m like the Dodge truck commercials—ram tough.” Rocky laughed.  “She was petite and into fashion.  Growing up I was the ultimate tomboy and I was huge.  She’d put me in white lace for church and I’d end up wrestling in the grass with the boys.  She wrote in her spare time, whenever she wasn’t running the construction office or taking care of Da or me.  Poems and short stories.”

“What were they like?”

“Tidbits about Ireland, her childhood.  She didn’t have an easy time of it.  Her stories were often sad,” Rocky whispered and drew a deep breath, realizing now that her mother had been a solitary, melancholy person.  “It’s been a while since I’ve read any of her work.  Even when she was sick, she kept writing and self-published collections of her poems and short stories.  I have her books on my shelf.”