Liam: Branded Brothers (3 page)

She paused, letting her feet dangle as she listened to the
creak of the swing. A smile spread across her face as she heard his irritated
voice bitch back in her head. She loved a good fight with Jack. It kept them
both on their toes. “Don’t worry, I’ll come back and visit every once in a
while. I’ll check in to let you know I’m doing okay.”

A chill circled Charla as she looked out into the small
rippling waves of the water. She wrapped her arms around herself, marveling at
the beauty of the shimmering lake. Jack had truly found an incredible resting
place.

“Are you crazy or something?” A man’s voice pierced the air
behind her.

“What the -” Charla jumped out of the swing, her heart
crawling out of her chest. She spun around to see the brooding eyes of the
Irish man from the Dirty Leprechaun. Liam Murphy. “Damn it. You scared me.”

“A little on edge?” Liam put his hand on the rusted pole of
the swing, leaning toward her.

“I don’t expect people to come up from behind me like that.”
She folded her arms across her chest. She hated feeling vulnerable, a feat most
people couldn’t achieve with her. “On private property. How did you know I was
here?”

“I followed you.”

“You followed me?” Charla’s eye shot to the steps of the
cottage. There was no way she’d be able to beat him up those stairs. Whatever
mess Jack got her into, she wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

He raised his eyebrows and held up a sheet of paper with
sprawling blue ink. The dramatic slant and sweeping letters of Jack’s writing was
unmistakable. “I didn’t follow you. The address was on the letter.”

“Oh,” she said, loosening the grip around herself. She took
a deep breath. “What do you want?”

“I have a few questions for you. Some mysterious woman can’t
come into my bar, drop off a letter, and not expect to hear from me. This
letter claims some pretty crazy shit that doesn’t make any sense. And
apparently, only one person has answers. And that person is you.”

“I don’t even know what’s in that letter. Jack gave it to me
two years ago and made me promise never to open it. So I didn’t.”

“You’re telling me you have no idea what’s in this?” He held
up the letter, the paper flapping in the breeze.

“No clue.” She put her hands on her hips, feeling
defensiveness rise to her throat. She held onto that damn letter for two years.
She didn’t break promises. She wasn’t going to be accused by someone who
decided to make the letter her problem.

He pulled the letter down, folded it, and stuffed it into
the pocket of his jeans. Her eyes traveled up his arms, following the ink to the
sleeves of his black shirt. She wondered if his chest was covered in tattoos.
Her mind conjured an image of intricate designs with the military tags resting
lightly in the middle of his chest.

Damn it, Charla.

He cleared his throat and folded his arms across his chest.
The noise snapped her out of the trance, and she looked up to meet his eyes. “I
never opened that damn letter and to be honest, I don’t want to know what’s in
it. I don’t want anything to do with it,” she said.

“How did you know Jack anyway?”

“I lived with him for the last two years.”

His eyebrows raised. “You were sleeping with him?”

“Oh, God no,” Charla said with a laugh, although Jack had
tried on more than one occasion. His libido was still very much intact, but she
made sure his playful suggestions stopped at that. She couldn’t blame him,
though. He claimed he hadn’t been with a woman in over twenty years. “I was his
in-home caregiver. Jack had early onset dementia and then Alzheimer’s. Jack was
only fifty-nine when he died four days ago, just two weeks shy of his sixtieth
birthday.”

“Oh,” he said, nodding his head. “That’s young.”

“Yeah, it really is.” She inhaled, looking back out at the
lake. She wished she had a few more weeks, even a few more days with him. Even
though she knew it was coming, his decline had all seemed so fast. “Whatever it
is that you’re looking for, I most likely can’t help you. Even though I spent
the last couple years with Jack, I don’t know anything about you or why he had
me give you that letter. The only thing I can tell you about is the Jack I
knew. The guy who forgot to put on his pants most days and the one who cursed
like a sailor and the one who threw peas at me. Other than that, I don’t have
much to tell you.”

He nodded his head, pausing momentarily before asking, “Did
you have a funeral for him?”

“No, he didn’t want all the fuss. He didn’t have any friends
or family. He was afraid the only people who’d show up at his funeral would be
his lawyer, the crazy cat bitch down the street, and me. At least, that’s what
he told me. He didn’t remember the crazy cat bitch died last year. I had Jack
cremated and dumped his ashes in the lake yesterday.” She nodded her head back
toward the water.

“No friends or family, huh?” He followed her eyes out to the
lake and then pointed at the canoe tied to the dock. “Is that his canoe?”

“Sure is.”

“I want to go out on it.”

“Okay, I guess you’re more than welcome to. There’s a paddle
and life jacket in the canoe,” she said, reluctantly. She wasn’t going to be
rude to him, but she also didn’t want Liam hanging around anymore than he
needed to. He was a tall, dark and handsome distraction she didn’t need right
now. “I should get back in the house and start boxing stuff up again.”

“I want you to come out on the lake with me,” he said,
holding a steady gaze.

“No,” she replied, inhaling sharply. There was no way she
was going out on the lake with a guy she just met given the circumstances of
Jack’s ramblings. “I have a ton to do with the house before I put it up for
sale. Plus, did you see the sky over there?” Charla pointed to the menacing
gray clouds threatening to float over the lake.

“Just like you preferred to pay for your drink,” he said,
running a hand through his thick brown hair. She couldn’t help noticing his
hair was just like Jack’s. “What if I told you something about the letter?
Would that change your mind?”

“No.” She shook her head then walked around the swing toward
the stairs. “I don’t want to know. Whatever it is, I’m staying out of it.”

She exhaled as she walked past him, still feeling his eyes
on her as she took the first two stairs up.

“What if I told you Jack was my father?”

Chapter 2

Charla huddled in the front of the
canoe wearing the faded orange life vest, facing Liam as he paddled out into
the middle of the lake. She’d do anything for Jack, but there wasn’t a chance
in hell she was going to turn her back on this man. She watched the bulge in
his arms flex as he dipped the oar into the water and pushed the canoe forward
with ease. He lifted the oar out, swung it across his body and dipped it back
into the water in one smooth motion while smiling at her. She had to admit he
had a wicked body to match that smile, but she pushed away the thoughts of
anything remotely romantic developing between them.

After all, he was Jack’s son.
Jack
’s son
. She
couldn’t believe he hadn’t told her he had a son. He’d told her about his wife
who had died over two decades ago, but he had never mentioned anything about a
son. Just hours before his death, he’d mentioned something about a little boy
and a suitcase, but that was it. She’d discounted it along with everything else
he’d said during that time. If Liam was in fact the little boy with the
suitcase, then she didn’t want to remember the rest of what Jack said. It
couldn’t be true. Jack didn’t seem like the man he spoke of.

“How much further?” Liam asked, holding the paddle across
his lap as they drifted gently in the water.

“Here is good. Under the oak tree,” Charla replied, turning
around to see the tree on the edge of the shore. Its massive trunk was partly
exposed and its branches reached over the lake in a great big sweeping canopy.
It was Jack’s favorite sight on the lake. Of course, it happened to be on the
crazy cat bitch’s property, which belonged to one of her daughters now. He
hated that she had this tree because he loved the way the roots crawled into
the water.
Like reaching hands, grasping for life
, he had said. He had
proceeded that comment with
Of course, the crazy bitch could only be so
lucky.
Charla didn’t think twice about scattering his ashes here.

“So this it?”

“This is it.” Charla’s words hung in the air. There was a
finality to them she couldn’t ignore. Tears welled deep in her eyes as she
gazed out into the water. She fought them back, holding them in with every
ounce of energy she had. She wouldn’t cry again and definitely not in front of
Liam. Whatever Jack was hiding all these years, it was resurfacing now that he
was gone. She felt guilty she’d had the opportunity to know Jack, unlike his
son. She was the one who spread his ashes in the lake. She was the one he left
his belongings and house to. He hadn’t even acknowledged the fact he had a son
in his will. All he left Liam with was a letter and a life-altering
declaration. It wasn’t supposed to work this way.

“Well, I thought I’d have some sort of revelation or
something.” He skimmed the oar on the surface of the water with thoughtfulness.
“You know, that I’d feel some connection with my biological father. I knew he
was out there somewhere, but I didn’t ever really want to find him. I had good
parents and a nice house to grow up in. I had a good life, a life without him.
He was the one that gave me up.” He set the paddle on his lap and dug into his
pocket to retrieve the folded piece of paper. He opened it and held it over the
edge of the canoe above the water. “All I feel is anger that he left me this
goddamn note.”

“I don’t blame you,” Charla said quietly, shrugging. She’d
never met her real father and if given the chance, she doubted she would jump
at the opportunity. As a child, she used to dream about her father, who in her
fantasies was a pilot and millionaire and the greatest dad in the world. She’d
envisioned him whisking her away from her absent mother and abusive
step-father. But she knew those dreams were just that now. Childhood fantasies
that were the complete opposite of the harsh reality she had to deal with. She
was a product of a one-night stand with a grisly, bandanna-wearing ex-convict
from a bar. If she had any luck, her biological father was dead. “If it’s any
consolation, I didn’t know the real Jack either. I knew the Jack with
Alzheimer’s. The crazy old man who wore a cowboy hat but no pants.”

“You want to know what this note says, Charla?” he asked,
lowering his hand closer to the water. The pain in his eyes flashed a deep
black. She could actually see the emptiness and anger that filled Liam’s heart.

“No.” A pang soared through her as she watched the note
hover over the water. “I told you that. I don’t want anything to do with it.”

“Neither do I,” he said, dropping the note into the water.
It floated on the surface, rocking back and forth with the gentle ripples of
the waves. “I don’t want anything to do with Jack Davis and his goddamn lies.
There are only two things I care about in this letter, and those two things
have already engraved themselves in my heart. I’ve got it all right here. I
don’t care about anything else.” He made a fist and thumped it over his heart.
Just then, a drop of rain splashed on Charla’s hand. She looked up to see the
gray clouds pushing above the lake, almost directly overhead.

“Okay,” she agreed, trying to press down the regret she felt
watching the water soak into the paper. Jack’s handwriting started to smear
across the paper. She exhaled, trying to come to terms that she would never
know what was in the letter.
I don
’t want to know
, she told
herself as she closed her eyes.
I need peace.
She felt another drop on
her hand.

“Okay,” he repeated.

“Okay.” She opened her eyes to see him reaching over the
edge to grab the letter out of the water. She leaned forward, trying to balance
the rocking of the canoe from Liam’s sudden shift of weight.

“God damn it,” he cursed, letting the water drip from the
edge of the paper as he settled back into his seat.

Charla smiled. Jack always had a way of getting what he
wanted. “For Christ’s sake, what’s in the letter, Liam? What are the two things
you care about?”

“I thought you didn’t want to know,” he said, shooting her a
look of contempt.

“I don’t.” She moved back into her seat and folded her arms
across the life vest. “I don’t. I really don’t. Let’s get the hell out of here
before it downpours. We can pretend this never happened. We never met. Jack
never wrote a letter. Jack never had a son.”

“Sons. Jack never had any sons,” Liam said, tucking the note
into his shirt. “According to this letter, I have two brothers. Brothers I’m
going to find with your help.”

Then the skies opened up and the rain pummeled down as if
the clouds had been waiting for that exact moment. He let out a laugh before he
dipped the oar back into the water, paddling his huddled and speechless
passenger back to shore.

***

Charla slammed the cottage door shut
behind Liam. They stood panting just inches apart and dripping on a tiny woven
rug not big enough for both of them. They’d managed to make it back to shore in
record time thanks to Liam’s fast and furious paddling skills, but they were still
drenched.

He let out a raspy laugh as their eyes met. The rain dripped
down the sides of his face, leaving tracks of water along the tight angle of
his jawline.
Not a good idea
, she told herself, trying to catch her
breath as she glimpsed into his endless eyes. She exhaled heavily and stepped
off the mat, dripping onto the linoleum in the dining room.