His body was still, but his mind was not. Raven had called. He’d heard Raven’s voice. He might be standing in front of her tomorrow. Did she want to tell him in person that she didn’t want to see him again? No. He wouldn’t entertain that line of thinking.
Reaching over to the box beside him, he briefly touched the lid. A present for Raven. He hoped she would accept it.
“We’ll be landing about 5:30 in the morning Dublin time, Bran. We’ll sleep as we may on the plane, get a car to the hotel and be able to get checked in, shower, and have some breakfast before we head to Triskelion.”
Bran nodded in agreement.
“I looked up their website while we drove to the airport. River must have made it. It’s even better than the first one. Business hours are 9 am. to 4 pm.”
“I booked us rooms at The Westin. Jo will have booked at The Fitzwilliam. At least, I assume she did. After you and Raven told her about the butler there, I’m sure she’d want the experience.”
The plane was taxiing down the runway. Patrick’s phone dinged. It had to be River. Did his brother realize he only smiled when he got a text from her? Pat was keeping himself cool and collected, but Bran knew him well enough to see his barely suppressed anticipation at seeing his ‘friend’ again.
“River text?”
Patrick glanced up and flashed a brief smile before returning to his phone. “She and her sisters are walking home from dinner. She said it’s colder than a witch’s tit. She must need warmer clothes. I’ll see what the hotel shops have and pick some things up before we go see them.”
“If she’s mentioning the weather, she is letting her guard down. Raven must have told them she called me.”
“She would, of course.” Dad the Happy Helper.
“You know, Bran, I just assumed we would be going with you to see the girls together, but I will understand if you want to do it alone,” Pat said, setting his phone aside to regard his brother.
That was thoughtful. Bran must have been an even more tragic figure these past months than he’d realized.
“No, they’ll want to see all of us. I hope they do.” He only just considered that he would need to make amends with three women, not one. Four, if he added Bébhinn. “You guys will be a good distraction, at any rate.”
“I can’t wait to see the new property. What they did in Eufaula was very creative.”
“Pat, what exactly are you up to with River?” Before his brother could tell him to fuck off, Bran held up his hands in peace. “I’m not trying to get in your business. I know you would never intentionally hurt River. I only wanted to warn you about Mrs. Byrne. I felt like Bébhinn put me through a meat grinder last time we spoke, and she never raised her voice. Be careful, there, that’s all.”
Not used to discussing relationships— ever— Patrick’s face went blank. “She doesn’t think of me as anything other than a friend, which is how I want to keep it.”
“Is she not your type?” Bran knew he was poking his nose in more than necessary now. Patrick’s type usually started withsocialand ended withite. As long as the women looked good on his arm and in his bed, knew the game and never expected commitment, he was down.
“River would be anyone’s type,” his brother practically growled.
Patrick immediately returned to a book he’d pulled out during takeoff, effectively ending the Q & A. Bran glanced at his dad, who just shrugged and went back to staring out the window.
“Dad, did you hear anything from the detective before we left town?” The stalker was never far from his mind. Not onlywas it someone with an unknown vendetta against them and the O’Connors, but he had been following and taking fucking pictures of his girlfriend. It was sick and twisted and made the situation of not knowing where Raven had been living that much harder these past weeks.
“I left a message first thing this morning that we would be leaving town for an undetermined amount of time. He called me before I spoke to you. They found the suspect’s house. At least one of them. Data from the multiple cameras were being sent to several addresses. I didn’t understand everything he was telling me, but he said, whoever it is, is a pro.”
“Holy shit, were they still there?”
“The house was empty but for a few odds and ends. A half-eaten breakfast was still on the outdoor table. They are dusting the place for fingerprints, but it’s like the motherfucker wore gloves. They’re still hopeful, and they haven’t interviewed all the neighbors yet. He said he’d keep us informed.”
Bran frowned, “I don’t get what ties our two families together. O’Faolain’s hired the O’Connors for Wolves. We aren’t restaurateurs. The pictures of Jane were taken before we hired them, as well. You’re friendly with James’ parents, Dad, but you guys don’t socialize, really. Maybe at the club or dinner here and there, but always by chance, not design.”
Placing his book aside, Patrick joined the conversation. “Neither Jo nor I have been bothered. Maybe it isn’t about our families. Could it have to do with only you and James, Bran?”
Bran rubbed his eyes in frustration. “We don’t yet know the extent this person has interacted in our lives. Why Jane and not Jo too? They’re both connected to James. Were they taking pictures of Raven or Raven and all her sisters? We’ve been over it a hundred times with the detectives. Why us? Why now? Could it seriously have something to do with James and I starting a serious relationship? It’s ridiculous.
“Our business lives just don’t interconnect, so that leaves our personal lives. Who the fuck knows what the psycho is thinking.”
“College?” Patrick asked.
“James and I spent hours on a conference call last week picking apart our school years. Nothing so far.”
