For Love & Bourbon (16 page)

“It’s like I said before, Ed. There was an accounting error and some taxes weren’t paid. That’s all.” She made a point to look each employee in the eye, ensuring they all heard her. Whether or not they believed was another story.

“Seems strange, don’t you think? The FBI coming out here to check on a bit of unpaid taxes?” Beau said, earning a few nods of agreement from the others.

Ava felt the first bolt of panic hit her, and the only defense she could muster was anger. Beau was cornering her into a tight spot, one she knew she’d have trouble digging out of. The truth, unfortunately, was not on her side. And damn him, he knew it.

“Why don’t you just mind your own business, Beau?” She jumped to her feet, got in his face. She reigned in the desire to slug him, though her vision hazed red with it. “I’ve said my peace, explained what’s going on. Why can’t you leave it at that?”

“Because things just ain’t figurin’ right, sweetheart.” Beau motioned to the others. “You think anyone here really believes you ain’t hidin’ something?”

Her mouth opened and closed as she fought for a comeback. She’d never been a great liar, and now when it really mattered that she reassure her employees, she was falling flat on her face.

In an instant, her grandfather was at her side, wrapping an arm protectively over her shoulders. His grin was bold and more than a little sharp around the edges. She’d never been so grateful for his presence in her entire life.

“Here now, let’s get a round of Irish for the lot of ye,” he declared, gesturing to Brandy. He edged Beau out of the way, and, though shorter than most of the men in the bar, commanded the room’s attention with ease. “There’s nothing for anybody to worry themselves over. Lucky Fox is goin’ strong as ever. This business with the Feds is just that, a business matter that’s bein’ taken care of.” Moments later, Brandy handed him a tray of shot glasses filled with whiskey. He took one, passed the tray around. Lifting his glass in the air, he flashed another fiery grin. “Now, I don’t want to hear another word about it.
Sláinte!
”

To Ava’s surprise, the group followed her grandfather and toasted, a mixture of relief and joy on their faces. She raised her own glass, though her hand shook once as she downed the liquid inside.

That had been close. Much, much too close.

AN HOUR
later, she sat with her grandfather at the kitchen table. He poured them both a generous glass of whiskey, not bothering with ice. The golden light above cast shadows over his face, bringing out the lines of a barely restrained temper.

Since leaving the bar, he hadn’t said a word to her. The jovial persona he had portrayed for the crowd was gone, as though he’d torched it the second he no longer needed to pretend. With her, he could be honest. And seeing the storm brewing within him, just itching to strike out, alarmed her in ways she never thought possible.

She watched him warily as he tossed back his glass, looking like a man trying desperately to calm down. The last time she’d seen him drink like that was when a good friend of his had passed away unexpectedly, some five years earlier. Then it had been the shock of mortality that had driven him to the bottle. This time she knew it was for a very different reason.

Because it was easier—and safer—she decided to pursue a roundabout route to get to what she wanted to know.

“I wish I could take a baseball bat to Beau’s smug face,” she said, taking a big gulp of whiskey. She swallowed it eagerly, then breathed out a relieved exhale. Her lips curved, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “If only it wasn’t against the law to hit the sheriff.”

Joe snickered coldly, draining the last of his glass. He refilled it, not missing a beat. “The lad’s a bigger whore for gossip than Miss Dolly at the hair salon on a Tuesday afternoon.”

“He’s more than just a gossip. He likes to instigate trouble. You’d think being made sheriff would’ve matured him a bit, but he’s just the same old rowdy bad boy he’s always been.”

Joe toyed with his glass. “I’ll never understand what ye saw in him.”

Ava shrugged. “I was young. I saw this good looking boy with a pickup truck and the Devil in his eye and thought it’d be fun. And it was, for a while. Until the darker side of his nature clashed with the fire in mine, and the blast nearly killed us both.”

“Sometimes what we think we want is the furthest thing from what we need, dearie,” Joe told her. The thought seemed to quell some of his anger, at least for now. His voice became softer, reminiscent of an easier life, long past. “But when we find what we need, there’s nothing better.”

His words hit a chord with her. Beau was certainly the type of guy she’d always thought she wanted. Untamed, unpredictable. A wild card with an arrogant streak to keep her on her toes. She had always secretly thrilled in the tumultuous relationships—the Rhetts and Scarletts, the Heathcliffs and Cathys. What she had failed to realize for so long was that they always went down in flames, leaving nothing but ashes behind.

Cooper Lawson was a different breed of man. She’d recognized that from the second she laid eyes on him. She knew better than to hold out hope for a future there, but would be lying to herself if she pretended for one second that she didn’t feel a connection. A desire that outshone all practicality, all reason. A need that would surely get her in trouble before this mess was over with.

Lifting her drink to her lips, she eyed her grandfather over the rim. “So was Beau lying when he said those agents spoke with you today?”

A scowl hardened Joe’s face. “Aye, they had a talk with me.”

She could sense that he was still sore from the conversation. Though it was a gamble, she had a hunch she knew why. “They asked you about the IRA. About Ned.”

He polished off his whiskey. He poured yet another before responding. “Told them I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about either.”

Ava’s heart clenched. Despite her promise to Cooper not to say anything, she couldn’t hold back. Not from her grandfather. “Did they also tell you that they think Daddy’s been sending money to Ned for the IRA?”

Surprise flashed in his eyes. His hand shook as he drank. “No. I won’t believe it.”

“They don’t have much proof, just theories right now.” She paused, deciding to lay it all on the table. “They found a plane ticket to Belfast from thirty years ago. Did he go to Ireland?”

Joe lowered his head, cursing under his breath. For a moment he said nothing, and her heart sank with each second that ticked by. “He was eighteen. Wanted to find out for himself if there was any truth to all I’d told him about the family, the feud. I didn’t even know he’d gone until he was halfway across the sea.”

“He just up and left without a word?” Ava asked, astonished to hear of her prim, structured father being so spontaneous. “Did you think he’d come back?”

“Oh, I knew he would.” Joe bristled, eyes blazing. He wagged his glass at her, the whiskey inside sloshing around. “I knew he’d go and see the truth. Bunch of radicals, they are. No-good, bloodthirsty heathens.”

“So you knew,” Ava realized, stunned. “You knew they were involved in the IRA.”

“Aye.” His temper sizzled, regret seeping in to douse it. His white brows knit together as his gaze met hers. “Me own brother Jack was the first to fall in line with the rebellion. Most of us agreed with the idea of it, of course. But it was the violence I couldn’t condone. I left long before the worst of it, the time they called The Troubles, but occasionally I’d hear rumors of what Jack and his sons were up to. Turned the family business into a cash cow for war money. Stayed under the radar just enough to not get arrested, but anyone with eyes could see the truth.”

“But you had no reason to believe Daddy was involved?”

“We didn’t discuss it. He spent a few weeks there, came home. We never spoke of it again. I didn’t want to know what he’d seen and done, and he didn’t want to tell me.”

She nodded and sat back in her chair. “He could still be innocent. I have to hold onto that.”

Joe reached for her hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Yer da is a good man, dearie. If Lucky Fox money did find its way to Ireland, it was likely Ned who stole it.”

She let his words give her some measure of relief. “Lord, I hope you’re right.”

I wish to live to 150 years old, but the day I die,

I wish it to be with a cigarette in one hand

and a glass of whiskey in the other.

~ Ava Gardner ~

G
uilt he didn’t understand kept him away from Brandy. A few days had passed, and still it lingered. Stuck like a knife in his back, a pain that ran helplessly deep.

In all his young, self-centered life, Adam had never known an ache so distracting.

The truth was, he didn’t know what to say to her. What happened between them had been a mistake—an unfortunate byproduct of whiskey and bitterness and a lurking desire he’d been unaware of until that moment. Until he’d felt the warmth of her skin beneath his hands, tasted the honey of her lips. Brandy, like her namesake, was a sweet and generous drink to be savored in slow, tender sips by the heat of a smoldering fire.

In his haste, he’d neglected that fact and tried to take her coldly, thoughtlessly. And in truth, cruelly. Knowing it brought out a hatred for himself he’d never thought he could feel. But there it was, staring him in the eye like a monster in his own image, ready to bring him to his knees.

She deserved an apology. If it wasn’t for his pride, he would’ve offered her one the instant she’d broken the kiss with those tears in her eyes. All that hurt mixed with the flush of passion he’d given her cheeks.

In that moment, he had understood her. Had seen the way his careless hands had curled around her heart and strangled the love out of it, thirsty for the taste but not for the package it came in. How could he have been so blind to it before?

He’d never wanted to see it, he admitted to himself. It had been easier to assume she’d always be there, the faithful friend he didn’t deserve. Somewhere along the way, she’d gone and fallen in love with him. And he’d done all he could to convince her to change her mind.

Out of fear, he acknowledged. Out of the damnedest, stupidest fear of losing some part of himself that wasn’t worth having. Giving himself to another person was not a task he approached lightly. He wanted no part of the tangled torment of falling in love.

And so he would push her away, like he’d always done. Because he was a coward.