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“He was a big fan,” Clara said with an eye roll.
Taylor suspected it must have been one of Malcolm’s guys or someone on his payroll, to know about something like that.
“Anyway, they may compel you to deliver more information, Liam. Or possibly even compel Facebook—which has a big presence here in Ireland and owns Instagram—to hand over the location of Veritas’ posts about the mural. We should all fear the information Facebook has on us. Trust me. Don’t ever read the user agreement.”
“I’m sure Veritas is familiar with how to remain anonymous,” Liam responded casually, and Taylor figured it had to be all his meditating that made him sound so at ease while she was trembling inside.
“Let’s hope so,” Arthur responded, returning his glasses to the bridge of his nose. “It seems the sheep parade is finished. Shall we move along? Clara, I’d better start you shopping early, or we’ll never get to lunch.”
Taylor managed a smile as they bantered, but her mind was spinning. Was she in trouble? Her hacker was one many street artists used, and he was well versed in creating barriers for their anonymity, complicated mazes of IP addresses and possible fake locations. But would it be enough?
Liam’s hand on her arm brought her back to the present. He held her gaze, assurance in his very touch and look. “Shall we go downstairs? Maybe have a tour?”
“That sounds great,” Clara said with enthusiasm.
As they were walking down the stairs, Trevor sidled up next to her. “J.T. told me we should offer Flynn’s help—have you met our baby bro?”
She only shook her head.
“He can help Uncle Arthur find Malcolm’s secret bank accounts and dig into finding Veritas. J.T.’s always been a big fan of Veritas. I’ve had to take a million pictures of that mural for him.”
She had to slow her steps, her ears buzzing now. “I’m confused.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Did J.T. never tell you about that time he tried to disappear off the grid because of his ex-wife?”
She shook her head as Liam took her hand as he caught up to them.
“Flynn was the guy who found him. He’s got mad tech skills.”
“He really does,” Clara told her with a proud smile. “He could give the Russians a run for their money.”
Her stomach dropped to the floor. How had this happened?
She had invited in the very family capable of unmasking her identity.
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
Taylor’s day with her journalistic hero should have been happier, but Liam could feel the strain under her smile.
He couldn’t blame her. Arthur Hale was a tempest in a teapot, and Trevor’s proud revelation about his brother’s hacking abilities had broken Liam’s shaky calm. He held Taylor’s hand as they led the group on a tour of the arts center with Linc, Bets, and Eoghan, and he felt a trembling in her fingers even though they were both amused by Clara, who was more than a match for her charismatic husband and nephew.
After buying two of Angie’s landscapes, three of Megan’s pottery pieces, and commissioning Eoghan to paint her in whatever way inspired him—including a nude, she’d said with a gusty laugh—she’d managed to freeze even Linc’s easygoing smile when she casually handed over a five-million-dollar check for their children’s program as they stood in the now empty entryway of the arts center.
Her reasoning, beyond the wish to see more children learn art, had been sweet to Liam’s ears. She’d said her grandnieces and nephews might want to come up for a summer session sometime. Liam wondered if the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. If so, Jamie and the other teachers would have their hands full.
“Holy hell, Clara,” Linc cried out, handing the check over to Liam’s mum, whose mouth dropped to the floor. “You interested in joining our board?”
“I’d love to, Linc, but our trips to Kenya and the family keep me well occupied,” she responded as Arthur released a clear breath of relief. “But you might ask Quinn’s wife, Francesca. She loves the arts, and she and our nephew Quinn have been helping Arthur investigate Malcolm. They have some good friends in high places.”
“Which you need to work in this country,” Trevor said, “as you know, Linc. We’ve just been in the game longer.”
“I told Bets we’d do better if I’d built a new windows factory here.” He made acha-chingsound for effect. “Jobs equal money, and that wins over art in most places.”
“Sad but true,” Clara agreed, linking arms with Eoghan, who was beaming beside her. “Now, my new friend promised me a good Irish lunch at a place named after a naughty donkey.”
“It’s abrazendonkey, Clara, for Pete’s sake,” Arthur said with a long-suffering sigh. “Where is your mind?”
“Where you like it, my dear.” She blew a flirtatious kiss. “It was a pleasure to meet all of you. Taylor, you especially. J.T. is very selective about his friends.”
