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CHAPTEREIGHT
Taylor hadn’t directly experienced the shock wave caused by one of her pieces since her first mural to take down the math teacher.
Every townsperson from Caisleán, it seemed, had chatted her up about the incident, introducing themselves to her as they hovered under the mural. She’d felt really weird responding to questions about how she felt about Veritas’ depiction of her. Like totally weird. When people raised the question to her about why Liam wasn’t in the mural, she went with the truth: she’d been the focus of Malcolm’s intimidation. Having Liam in the mural would have diminished that. Of course, Kathleen and Ellie added their two cents about Taylor not needing a man to save her, which satisfied others. But the discussion about the mural continued around her as she tried to act casual.
Bets tried hard not to mother hen her, but it was obviously tough for her after Malcolm’s second threat. That dude was a real douche of a human being. And then there was Linc, who’d put his hand on Taylor’s shoulder and told her everything was going to be okay somehow.
Who was he kidding? The Caisleán situation was about as out of control as ever after Malcolm and Mary had shown up breathing fire and damnation.
There was one bright spot: Liam. He was a bastion of calm.
“I should never have involved you,” she told him after they’d returned to her place, pacing back and forth in her living room as he sat peacefully on her couch drinking a cup of tea. “I was reckless and overly emotional. I didn’t look at all the angles. I should have investigated the laws more. I put you and the center at risk. Liam—”
“A stór,why don’t you sit down and drink the tea I made you? There’s nothing to be done right now. Linc told me to take you home and sit tight, and that’s what we’re going to do. How can I help you find some peace here?”
She stopped short and gaped at him. How could he look so Zen and gorgeous right now? “Peace?They’re threatening to shut down the arts center because of what I did. You could get into trouble if they figure out you were the one who helped me.”
“Linc already told me that the official story is that Sorcha must have been the one who shut down the system last night. I’m not sure how I feel about that. I’m still letting it sit.”
“Sorcha?”
“Apparently she was the first image on the surveillance video when the system turned back on,” Liam informed her, raising his super sexy sandy brows.
“I told you that I had your back,” the ghost said suddenly from behind her.
Taylor let out a shriek. “Oh my God! Stop doing that.”
Liam rose gracefully and gently led her to the couch next to him. “Why don’t we sit and listen to what Sorcha has to say? She doesn’t show up unless it’s important.”
“Thank you, Liam.” The ghost sank onto the matching ottoman, arranging her dress as if they were having a soiree. “I always did appreciate your levelheadedness. Now, it seems to me that Taylor needs a crash course on the dark side of Ireland. I believe you’re familiar with the corruption, so you’ll understand what I mean when I say there are a lot of backdoor dealings. That’s something Malcolm is good at.”
“Plus, he has a lot of goons,” Taylor added. “Did you see his posse today? He wanted us to be peeing our pants.”
“Exactly! The new Garda officer, Mr. Hart, while perhaps a fair arbiter of the law in Caisleán, isn’t a match for someone like Malcolm. You need something bigger to take Malcolm down than media clips and street art. If you can prove he’s been swindling his friends, you’re golden.”
“Because money is serious business, and you don’t swindle your so-called friends,” Liam finished. “Linc knows who has been investing in Malcolm’s hotels—”
“Can you get me that file?” she asked, perking up.
Her green-eyed pirate soulmate possibility simply gazed at her. “And what do you plan on doing with it?”
Her frown didn’t change the patient, sweet way he was looking at her. “Not me. We need someone who knows how to investigate this kind of jerk and go deeper into his corruption. Like Sorcha said.”
“Thank you,” Sorcha said. “I believe we’re finally speaking as friends.”
“Friends might be pushing it,” she told the ghost with a smile. “But yeah, we need someone who’s got serious cred in pulling down corrupt bigwigs.” The mural clearly wasn’t going to be enough.
“Taylor, I have no idea who that might be in Ireland,” Liam answered.
“Just wait, Liam,” Sorcha cautioned, sitting back on the ottoman and resting her arms on the sides like a queen. “You’re about to see why Taylor is the one who’ll bring Malcolm down.”
She chewed her lip, surprised. “Flattery?”
“You’ve had a few trying days,” Sorcha said. “If I were still alive, I might have even baked you some soda bread in consolation.”
Liam muffled his laughter. “I can’t wait to tell Carrick that.”
Taylor didn’t pick up on the joke. “Were you a terrible cook?” she asked, making Sorcha snort and Liam laugh. “I need my phone. Wait! What time is it?”
