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“The wind will wake me up enough to say good night to my beautiful bride. At my age, you don’t take such a moment for granted. Good night, Taylor.” He kissed her on the cheek and then touched her arm. “We’re making good headway. The black ink in these here veins is vibrating with promise. Remember that and try and sleep tonight. You look like you could use some Zs.”
His concern as much as the comfort in his weathered hand brought her emotions to the surface. She couldn’t sleep. Tonight, she had to steal away and paint her mural. His insistence that they all go off to bed was a boon, however. Her computer clock had told her it was only ten thirty when she’d glanced at it before rising from the table.
“Thank you, Arthur. I can’t tell you what it means to me to have your help.”
“It’s a pleasure, dear Taylor.” He opened the door and cursed. “I didn’t need to bethatawake. Oh, to hell with it.”
He charged out as J.T. called over his shoulder, “I’ll be right back,” and followed him.
She caught a blast of the wind as they shut the door behind them. Jesus, it was cold! Maybe it would help her wake up. If not, Red Bull always worked, and she had four in the suitcases she’d packed with her supplies.
But now, she feared the wind. Would it be as bad in Waterford? She’d chosen it because it was far enough away from Kinsale, and it suited her new theme. She was going to use only four shades of paint—black, white, silver, and gold—to depict a mural very much in keeping with what Waterford was famous for: crystal. Malcolm would be a grotesque black silhouette with his ten rings in gold paint. His giant foot would be ready to step on a magical crystal-like depiction of Ireland and Liam’s form—the gold depicting his very noticeable earring—behind prison bars. Several other figures would be waiting in line to be jailed as well. Two sheep with angel wings would be ascending to heaven on the side, with a few others crying below.
She’d never done anything like it, and she thought Liam would appreciate the idea. Didn’t all yoga and meditation fanatics like the idea of crystals, even of the man-made variety? His face swam before her again—that pirate earring she liked to play with, his sexy smile, and those green eyes filled with more love and understanding than any other human being had ever shown her.
Grief welled up inside her. What must he be feeling, trapped in an undisclosed prison? Had they beaten him? Had they fed him? She bit her lip as the door opened again. She welcomed the rush of wind.
“Hey,” J.T. called. “We have something to ask you.”
She looked over. Trevor was back, it seemed, and his face was really serious. Too serious. Like all of the other Merriam boys standing next to him.
“Taylor, you know we’re friends, right?” J.T. asked, putting his hand on her shoulder.
Her nod was slow, given the weird buzz in the room.
“And I know you only know me and Trev well,” he continued, “but the rest of my brothers all came here to help, so they seem like pretty great guys too, right? Well, except for Flynn maybe. We still don’t know why Mom didn’t leave him in the forest with the fairies.”
“Hey!” He shoved his brother.
J.T. pushed him right back before turning to her. “Taylor, do you remember what we said about Flynn rivaling Russian hackers?”
Her skin tingled with a frisson of alarm. “Yes,” she said cautiously.
“Well, there’s no easy way to say this, but I got to thinking—”
“So did I,” Trevor volunteered.
She wanted to run out of the room suddenly. “What did you do?”
J.T.’s mouth tightened. “We thought we’d make sure the real Veritas had everything buttoned up on the back end—”
Oh, God!
“And while it was areallyimpressive setup,” J.T. continued as her head started buzzing, “Flynn found some things.”
“Some things,” she managed to repeat despite her dry mouth.
Trevor came over and swung his arm around J.T. “What my bro here is trying to say is this: do you need any help with the mural you’re planning? Because it’s obvious you are with how heavy your suitcase was, and we’d all really like to help if we can.”
Maybe it was her lack of food and fatigue, but that offer did what Sorcha had only managed once.
Taylor fainted dead away.
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
Veritas had struck again.
Linc couldn’t believe their luck as he put his arm around Bets. She gripped his shirt, watching the morning news report Ghislaine had flicked on after running in with the good news.
