Cut and Run 08 Ball & Chain (5 page)

A shadow appeared on the floor, different than the one that haunted him. “Nick?”

“Coming,” Nick called. Kat and Erin trailed behind him as he made his way up the two flights to his father’s bedroom.

He stood in the doorway, Kat and Erin still behind him. His two youngest sisters, Alana and Nessa, sat in chairs beside the bed, where Brian O’Flaherty lay propped amongst several pillows, jaundiced and weak. All three of them looked at the doorway when they realized Nick was standing there.

“Son,” his father said. He pushed himself up, trying to sit straighter. He didn’t quite make it.

Nick moved toward the bed. Nessa stood and gave him a stiff hug. Nick held onto her, flooded by memories of running down the hall and gathering her out of her bassinet, wrapping her up in her blankets and hugging her to his chest as he and Kat scrambled to get down to the cellar before their father hit the front door.

He let her go, and she and Alana moved to let him sit beside the bed. His father’s eyes stayed on him, and Nick didn’t look away. Eye contact had always been something he’d fought for. When he’d been little, it had pissed his dad off. He’d seen it as a challenge, like a fucking junkyard dog.

It had been worth a backhand to meet the man’s eyes.

“You’re home safe,” his dad finally said. “That’s good.”

Nick nodded.

“You didn’t even tell us you were leaving. We’d have come to see you off.”

Nick snorted. “You hadn’t spoken to me in over a year. You said I was going to hell.”

Brian’s eyes hardened. “I’m too sick to fight, Nicholas.”

“That’s a first,” Nick said through gritted teeth.

“Nick, he can’t handle stress right now, why don’t you try to be civil,” Alana spat. She was standing by the door, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.

“Why don’t you shut your mouth,” Kat snapped.

Nick glanced over his shoulder at them, then back to his father. “I’m not here so you can say a tender good-bye. What do you want?”

“I want to make my peace with you, son. We had a rough road. But now I’m dying. And I’m scared.”

Nick narrowed his eyes. He knew what sort of changes the thought of impending death could bring on a person. He’d suffered through them himself. But he knew his dad, too. The man wasn’t seeking retribution or forgiveness. He wanted something, something only Nick could give him. And it wasn’t peace.

“Cut to it. What do you want from me?”

Brian took a deep, rattling breath. “Without a new liver, I’ll be dead in three to six months.”

One of Nick’s sisters sniffed. Nick didn’t look away from his father.

“You’re close enough to my size you could be a match, son. You’re the only one who might be. You got that O blood type.”

Nick sat back and closed his eyes.

“You’ve got to be shitting me!” Erin shouted.

“Erin!” their mother cried. “Your language!”

“Stuff it, Mom!” Kat waved a hand at Nick. “How the hell can either of you ask him to do this?”

“Dad is dying,” Nessa said, her voice small and scared. “Even you can’t be so selfish you wouldn’t help him if you could. Even Nick’s not
that
selfish.”

Nick glanced over in time to recognize the warning signs of Kat and Erin about to blow a collective gasket.

“Everybody get out,” he said softly.

“Nick!” Kat started.

“Kat, stay calm, okay? Give us a few minutes.”

Kat held her breath but nodded. She ushered everyone out of the room and closed the door behind them, leaving Nick and his father alone.

“Temperamental women,” Brian mumbled. “They run in the family. Got to keep the reins tight.”

“The only person in this family who should be tied down is you,” Nick snapped.

They stared at each other for several long moments, neither willing to look away. Brian swallowed hard and licked his lips. Nick hated that he enjoyed seeing his father scared. He hated the fact that he wanted revenge for all the terror and pain of his childhood. But he did. He’d have to live with the kind of person that made him.

“I know you hate me, Nick, and you got the right. But do you think I’m such a horrible man I deserve a death sentence?”

Nick narrowed his eyes. “You probably don’t want me to answer that.”

“Will you consider it before you say no? For your sisters? And your mother?”

Nick began to smile. “Tell me something, Dad. How fucking terrified were you when they told you I was the only one who could save you?”

What little color there was drained from Brian’s face. “Nicholas,” he tried.

“I’ve got somewhere to be,” Nick said, and stood.

“Son, please. I’ll die without your help.”

“Probably should have thought about that thirty-seven years and fifteen broken bones ago,” Nick said as he headed for the door.

His father called after him, his voice a pale echo of the shouts that used to ring through this house.

Nick ignored him. He stalked down the hallway to the stairs, beginning to fume as he thumped down the steps. The man had no right to ask that of him. He had no right to put that decision in Nick’s hands. How many times had Nick prayed for his father’s demise over the years? And now it seemed the only way it would happen was if Nick pulled the trigger on him. It wasn’t fucking fair.

The rest of the family was gathered in the kitchen. Nick’s mother was hunched over the kitchen table, Alana and Nessa sitting on either side of her. Kat and Erin were stalking back and forth like hungry lionesses, and they pounced on him when they heard him coming.

“What did he say?” Erin demanded.

“You’re not going to do it, are you?” Kat added. “You don’t owe him shit.”

Nick’s phone began to ring before he could answer. He glanced around at the five women as he dug in his back pocket. Nessa and Alana were watching him, their expressions full of hope and fear and pain. How many times had Nick seen those eyes—frightened but not sure why, trusting him to protect them.

His mother stood. “Nick, please,” she whispered.

Nick tore his eyes away from them to look down at his phone. “I have to take this.” He grabbed up his coat and turned toward the front door without another word, leaving his family behind to step out into the freezing air. His hands were shaking and he felt like he might throw up in the bushes. The cold air helped to calm him, and he began making his way to the brand-new Range Rover parked at the curb.

“O’Flaherty,” he answered, his voice choked.

“Hey, Irish, you okay?” Ty asked. “You sound like shit.”

Nick cleared his throat and glanced at the house behind him when he got to his car. “Yeah, you just did me a solid, man. Got me out of a tight spot. What’s going on?”

“Well, long story short, you want to be one of Deacon’s groomsmen? All expenses paid.”

“When?”

“Next week.”

“Where?”

“Scotland.”

“Scotland?”

“Scotland.”

Nick stared at the window above him, pursing his lips. “Yeah, okay.”

“Bring a date.”

Nick closed his eyes and smiled. “Okay.”

“And a gun.”

Nick opened his eyes. “Wait, what?”

Ty’s laughter was all the answer Nick got.

“There’s not a single town name here I can pronounce,” Zane said as he peered at a map inset of the Scottish highlands and Inner Hebrides. He kept pronouncing Hebrides wrong on purpose, and it was driving Ty crazy.

Ty tossed his arm over Zane’s shoulders, leaning back in his chair. His feet were propped on a suitcase. They’d flown into Glasgow via a hellish eighteen-hour layover in Iceland, and now they were waiting at baggage claim for Nick and his date to join them. They were a little behind the rest of the Grady family, who’d chosen to take Theodore Stanton up on his offer to fly in his private jet. Zane hadn’t been able to get off work in time to do it or Ty would have been all over it.

“You don’t need to pronounce it,” Ty said. “Apparently the Stantons own the entire fucking island.”

Zane shook his head. “Private jet, private island, private security force. I’m starting to think Deuce is in way over his head.”

Ty grunted, and a sense of unease fluttered through him again. “I wish I’d been able to talk to him a little more before he left Philly. Nick’s going to be pissed that I don’t know more about what’s going on.”

Zane hummed.

“No, seriously. Nick’s going to kill me.”

Zane began to chuckle. “Maybe this date he’s bringing will make him behave.”

“Or at least keep him distracted,” Ty mumbled.

A few minutes later, Ty caught sight of Nick making his way through the crowd. He stood to go meet him, but stopped short when he recognized the man walking with Nick.

“Doc!” he cried, and wrapped Kelly up in a hug when they got closer. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“You said to bring a date and a gun,” Nick said with a crooked smile. “So I brought a date
with
a gun.”

Ty laughed and stepped in to give Nick a hug as well. Zane shook both their hands. “How was your flight?”

“Flight was good. Security was rough,” Kelly said.

Ty frowned. If Nick and Kelly hadn’t been able to bring their weapons along, their trip had been for naught. “They give you shit about your gear?”

Nick shook his head.

“No, no, no,” Kelly said before Nick could answer. “The guns and knives and fucking night vision goggles or whatever he has in there, those permits went through fine. It was
him
they wouldn’t let go through.”

Zane began to laugh despite obviously trying not to. “Why not?”

“The way the new machines are? They take a picture when you stand there, right?” Nick said, raising his arms above his head. “The fucking shrapnel in my thigh makes it look like I have something sharp in my pocket. They kept telling me to empty my pockets, and I was like, ‘I can’t!’”

Kelly began to laugh. “They made him drop his pants. He got whistled at.”

“By you!” Nick shouted.

Kelly laughed harder. Nick rolled his eyes as Ty and Zane snickered.

“Anyway,” Nick said. “How long a drive do we have to this place?”

Ty slung his arm around Nick’s shoulders. “Couple hours. You feel like driving it?”

“I’d rather me do it than you.”

Ty snickered, and Kelly jabbed his elbow into Zane’s ribs. “Never let him drive in a country with left-hand driving.”

“Okay?” Zane said with a raised eyebrow at Ty.

Ty shrugged and winked at him. Nick and Kelly headed for the luggage conveyors to retrieve their suitcases, and Ty slid closer to Zane. “They’re right, never let me drive here.”

“Noted.” Zane’s grin was a warm one. “I can’t believe O’Flaherty brought Doc instead of a real date.”

“The thought of a week at a wedding with a real date probably flat gave him a panic attack.” Ty gave Zane a spontaneous squeeze around the waist.

They gathered their luggage, and Nick and Kelly joined them to head for the rental car counters. Ty told Nick to go to the counter and handle the rental because he knew Nick’s luck. The man was fucking blessed when it came to traveling. He’d been Sidewinder’s “acquisitions specialist,” and he’d been damn good at it. But even beyond skill came luck, and Nick had that in spades.

They’d booked a compact car, but sure enough, Nick came back with a “free upgrade” to a brand new Audi A4 and the counter girl’s phone number. He handed the number to Kelly and the receipt to Ty, then waved the keys as he headed for the door to the parking lot.

“How the hell does he do that?” Zane asked. Kelly merely laughed as they trailed after Nick with their luggage.

Ty and Kelly both fell asleep in the back of the sedan as Nick made the three-hour drive to the little town where they were to catch a very private boat to the Stantons’ very private island. Ty woke whenever they took an especially sharp curve or slowed for a trekking biker, and each time he did, Nick and Zane were talking companionably. Several times their laughter roused him.

Halfway through their deployment, Nick had been sent home for forty-eight hours. Ty knew he’d been sent to Maryland to deliver a message to Naval Intelligence because Ty had specifically chosen him for the mission. When he’d returned, Nick had told him that he’d dropped in on Zane and brought a letter back with him, the only communication Ty and Zane had been able to have during those six months.

From what Ty had observed since landing in Scotland, Zane and Nick had come to an understanding during that visit. He might even call them friends. The level of relief he felt at that was astronomical, given their rocky start.

The next time Ty woke, Kelly was using his lap as a pillow, and they were making their way through a tiny, crowded coastal town. Ty stretched and patted Kelly’s chest as he peered out the window. The quaint shops seemed to lean toward them as they drove past, and the cars on the wrong side of the road came way too close to the car for his comfort. He was glad Nick was driving because the roads in the UK made him twitchy.

They could see sailboats in the harbor and a great expanse of deep blue water beyond. In the far distance, the tops of gently rolling mountains were visible.

The Stantons’ private island was somewhere out there in the wilds of the Inner Hebrides, two hours away. It didn’t have a name on the map.