For Love & Bourbon (42 page)

He caught her mouth with his, his hands winding back into her hair. “I’m gonna spend the rest of my life making that up to you,” he murmured, his lips cruising over hers, drinking her in. “I promise you. I will never be that fool again.”

W
hile her father showered and her grandfather went down to the distillery, Ava sat at the dining table with a cup of hot tea. She stared straight ahead at nothing in particular, drowning in her own tormented thoughts.

Happy as she was for the entire mess to be over with, she didn’t feel as relieved as she had hoped. Instead she felt hollow, fractured in a way she wondered would ever be repaired. What Ned had revealed to her about both her father and her mother had been earth-shattering. How could she ever think of them the same after that?

She refused to ever stop thinking of Ty as her father, no matter how torn she was inside. He was the man who had raised her, who had given her mother sanctuary and accepted her children as his own despite the risk to his life. Surely above all the people involved, he was a hero. A saint among men. She was proud to call him her father.

Her mother, on the other hand, was a more shocking revelation. The woman she had known all her life had been living a lie. She had changed her identity and pretended to be someone she wasn’t. For Ava, the thought of spending years beholden to a secret so damning was mind-boggling. Her honest, straightforward nature wouldn’t permit her to understand how anyone could make it work.

But Sandra had. Or, Colleen, as Ned had called her. Colleen McVey had stolen away to America and turned from a radical revolutionary of the IRA into a well-mannered, Southern housewife, accent and all. What an actress she had been, Ava thought sadly. To have pulled off this grand disguise and evade Ned and any scrutiny from others for nearly three decades.

She wondered if Colleen herself had eventually forgotten her real identity. Had she ever become so consumed in playing the role of Ty Brannon’s cheerful, well-to-do wife that she forgot all about her previous husband, her old loyalties, friendships, and goals? Did she ever have moments of doubt where she missed Ireland and all she had forsaken to give her children a better life?

Ava supposed she would never know the truth. Somehow she would have to learn to live with that.

A polite knock on the front door preceded Cooper entering the house. He stepped into the kitchen, smiling at her.

“Hey, you.”

Ava looked up at him, mentally shaking off her troubled thoughts. “I bet your boss is one happy camper. Not only did you get Ned, you got his sons, too.”

“Score three for the good guys.” He walked toward her with his hands inside his pockets, looking as out of place in her home as ever. A city-slicked FBI agent inside her mother’s quaint country kitchen was as strange as a shiny Mercedes Benz in an old barn.

She warmed her hands over her cup of tea, her heart pounding. “So, you’ll probably be gettin’ out of here soon. Now that it’s all over.”

Cooper nodded, avoiding her gaze. “Yeah. It’ll be nice to get home. I didn’t even realize how long I’ve been gone.”

Ava snorted, darkly amused. “It’s been one hell of a ride, Slick.”

“It definitely has.”

She took a sip of her tea and released a long breath. “Look, I’m sorry we fought before. I think we both had valid points. But I really don’t want to leave things on a bad note.”

“I don’t either.” He regarded her curiously, regret softening his eyes. “You were just afraid for your family, and I wasn’t being fair. I’m sorry for that.”

Her chin jutted out, pride getting the best of her. “They needed me. I couldn’t just let them die because you didn’t want me to take a risk.”

“I know. And as an agent, I should’ve put the advantages of that risk above everything else. But I struggled with that.” He paused, feeling his own heart constrict at the memory of letting her go straight into the arms of a killer. “It was unprofessional. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Ava raised her cup to her lips again, hoping to hide the emotions roaring through her at that moment. Shame at putting him in that position in the first place, and disappointment that he couldn’t admit the real reason for his refusal to let her go. Not that it would make things any easier if he were to say he loved her as much as she loved him, but at least then there would be honesty between them. Instead they had only erected a wall of duty and pride.

“I forgive you,” she said finally, forcing a smile onto her face. “I hope you’ll come down and visit us once in a while. When you’re not too busy catching the terrorists of the world.”

He chuckled, though inside he ached to hold her. To gather her close and tell her everything he didn’t know how to say. It was easier, in his eyes, for the break to be clean. “I’m sure Marco will probably drag me down here for a proper tour of the distillery.”

“He’d love it,” she replied, amused by the thought. Then she remembered the first time she’d seen Cooper when he’d joined her tour group, a cool drink of water in his pressed suit with that boyish grin. He wore that smile now, though it was noticeably less cheerful. Seeing it flat out broke her heart and had her feelings erupting out of her mouth without thought. “This sucks, Slick. I didn’t realize it would hurt so badly.”

His face fell and he shifted his feet, almost like he didn’t want to have the conversation. She could see his reluctance, and couldn’t help but feel angry at him for it.

She jumped to her feet and went to him, saying nothing as she dragged him against her for a fiery kiss. After a moment’s hesitation he buckled and caved, his hands roaming over her back and his breath hot over her lips. She broke the kiss and looked into his eyes as her hands twisted around the lapels of his suit jacket.

“Do you want this to be over?” she asked, eyes afire with resentment, doubt, and pride. “We could try and make it work. This doesn’t have to be the end.”

She had practically yanked her own heart out and handed it to him, and the only thing he offered her was a single, cold shake of his head.

“Yes it does, Ava,” he said, backing away from her. He held her at arm’s length and watched the insult and pain ravage her face.

“Damn you.” She shoved him as hard as she could, reeling as she turned away and covered her face in her hands. She knew there were tears in her eyes, felt them spill in hot streams down her cheeks. She hated him for it. Hated herself for feeling so much, for letting it go this far. “Just go. I never want to see you again.”

Cooper braced himself, stunned by her outburst and tormented by the sound of her agony. Knowing he had caused it made it even worse.

“Ava…”

“No.” She whirled around, her face blotchy but her eyes clear and mean. She pointed at the door. “You know the way out. If the FBI needs anythin’ more from me, send someone else. We’re done here.”

He struggled to breathe, but said nothing as he turned away. He wouldn’t subject himself to one of her wild rages, not when he was in the right. She had known from the start how this would end. Her inability to accept it now wasn’t his problem. If anything, she was the one being ridiculous.

Wasn’t she?

He had his own life to live, his own goals. He had a career back in Washington D.C., a mission to take down the men who had been responsible for killing his father. There was no room in his life for a relationship, much less a long distance one with someone who had her own hectic schedule and plans.

He continued to rationalize it in his head as he left, shutting the door with a quiet click behind him. He didn’t even look back at the house, already knowing he would spend the rest of his life trying to forget the woman who called it home.

ADAM SAT
comfortably on the sofa, Brandy curled up beside him. Ava was on his other side, nursing a glass of whiskey and looking worse for the wear. Across from them, their father and grandfather were seated in opposing armchairs, ready to at last talk about the past.

Ty leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his own glass of whiskey held tightly in his hands. His face was clean and shaved, his dark hair brushed and the bruising around his right eye beginning to fade. He stared into the amber liquid as he spoke. “I was eighteen when I first visited Ireland. I don’t know what made me go. I suppose it was a kind of teenage rebellion.” He looked to his father, amusement softening his expression. “My entire life I’d heard of nothing but the feud. It’d been made clear to me that I was to never meet my extended family, that they were, as my father put it so eloquently, nothing but liars, cheats, and scoundrels.”

“I was right, wasn’t I?” Joe said, eyebrows raised.

Ty nodded. “I didn’t think so at the time, but in hindsight, yes, you were.” He turned back to his children. “During my trip, I became close with Ned. He was a few years older than me and I looked up to him. He commanded attention in a way I’d never been able to do, and seeing how others admired him so much made me admire him too. He introduced me to the entire family, to his sons, to all his friends, and to his new wife, Colleen.”

Ava tensed, finding it hard to hear her father say her mother’s real name. She wondered if she would ever get used to it.

Ty continued. “His first wife had passed away a year earlier and he’d wasted no time replacing her. But I got the impression that he and Colleen shared something special. Eventually I found out it was the
cause
. The fight for the liberation of Ireland from British control.

“Being raised in America, I knew very little about what was goin’ on or what side to take. Apparently the Irish side of the Brannon family had been deeply imbedded in the IRA since right after my father left in 1961. Ned and my Uncle Jack were running the whiskey business as a front for the organization, pouring nearly all their profits into the cause. To this day I don’t know how they did it without landing in prison, but I imagine they had connections deep within the system to keep them safe.”

“What about Mama?” Ava asked, caring less about Ned’s business and more about who her mother had been. “What was she like back then?”

A smile teased the corners of Ty’s mouth. “She was a spitfire. She walked into a room and quite literally lit it up. I swore everybody was in love with her, but she only had eyes for Ned. They fed off each other in a dangerous, all-consuming way. It was obvious they’d have to burn out sometime, but that might’ve been my jealousy talkin’.” He took a slow sip of whiskey, closing his eyes briefly. “It didn’t take long during my stay for me to witness the true reality of what Ned and his associates were up to. They weren’t simply supporting a cause monetarily and politically. They were at war. When I saw his underground bunker filled with automatic weapons and pipe bombs, I couldn’t believe my eyes. He wanted to
kill
people. And so did Colleen.”

Ava’s eyes shot to Adam, the two of them speechless.

“They believed the best way to get what they wanted was to relentlessly attack the British troops and police. For years they’d been at it, and even though the worst of it seemed to be in the past, Ned was determined to keep the fight alive. That was why, when the time came for me to return to Kentucky, he cornered me and made me swear my allegiance to him. To be honest, I was too afraid to say no. He said that if I wanted to belong in the Brannon family, to be at his side as a warrior and a cousin, I needed to help him by sending as much money as I could. But I had to be discreet about it, or else I’d get myself thrown in prison.”