Merchants with Evil Intent (24 page)

      
“How’s that?”

      
“I just signed a contract to start
selling in the states. Specialty shops, they’re called. Since you’ve been
there, maybe you wouldna mind going back, shake a few hands, promote MacManus
Farms?”

      
Declan nodded his head. “I can hit
Chicago first.”

      
Angus laughed, “Met
a
lass
, didja?”

      
“Aye, I met
a lass
,”
Declan smiled.

*
     
*
     
*

      
Mickey glanced at the woman sitting next
to him in the car. She was busy snapping pictures of the sheep in the middle of
the road. She called it ‘charming’. Charming his arse! Bloody annoying, that’s
what t’was.

      
He’d spent the past two weeks hauling her
from town to town and stopping at various tourist attractions. He was getting
feckin’ tired of stoppin’ and walkin’. He wished she’d pick a spot and stay for
more than a bleedin’ day! A man likes to rest and drink a pint or two.

*
     
*
     
*

      
Declan arrived at the Wild Knight with
two cases of the finest cheddar cheese MacManus Farm offered.

      
“Aye,
look
chipper Peter, the boss is here,” teased Kelly, the waitress.

      
Peter slapped a pint on the bar. “It’s on
the house.”

      
“I hope you reserve that line for me
only,” Declan joked.

      
“’Course I do. Well, maybe for a pretty
lass or two,” Peter teased.

      
Declan scanned the pub. He didna have a chance
to visit any of the bars in Chicago.

      
Colleen told him most of them have big
screen televisions showing American football, basketball and hockey. He
wrinkled his nose. What happened to people talking with one another?

      
A jukebox rested in one corner and a
small stage sat in the back for fiddlers and the like. Plenty of seats at the
bar and snugs to accommodate over one hundred patrons.

      
He came up with the cheeky name thanks to
Eoghan and Van Morrison. The bronze statue outside of a knight drew people in,
especially the tourists.

      
“How’s business been?” he asked Peter.

      
“Ya know how it ‘tis. The tourist season
is aboot over now so it’s just the locals lately. I’m hearin’ some of our
usuals are frequenting The Devil’s Horns because they have big screen tellys.”

      
“Well let them. I won’t be puttin’ that
shite in my pub.
It’s
eno’ I let you talk me into
gettin’ Wi-Fi!” Declan barked. “They should all be comin’ here since the Wild
Knight is the only pub in the area that offers that!”

      
He headed to the storeroom and checked
out the inventory. “Peter!” he yelled.

      
Peter entered the room, wiping his hands
on his green apron.
“Aye?”

      
Declan lifted an eyebrow. “Didja not
place the order I asked you to?”

      
“Shite!
I knew I
forgot to do something!” Peter murmured as he slapped himself in the head.

      
“Easy, lad.
No
harm, no foul.” Declan choked. He composed himself quickly. “Er, see that it
gets ordered today, aye?”

      
He walked with a purpose to his Rover.
Once settled inside he pulled out his mobile.

      
The fourth ring sent him into voice mail.
He growled. “Gel, ‘tis Declan again. I feel like an utter plonker constantly
calling you. If you’ve no interest can you please have the decency to tell me
instead of ignoring me calls?”

      
He threw the mobile onto the passenger seat
where it sailed through Eoghan’s mid-section. Declan ran his hand through his
hair.
“Jaysus!”

      
“Ye are of a foul mood. Did you not get
the cheese you sorely desired?”

      
“I just tried calling the gel again and
she’s no’ answering.”

      
“Perseverance, Declan. She’ll come
‘round.”

      
Declan snorted and pulled away from the
curb without looking out his mirrors. In doing so he narrowly missed an
oncoming car.

*
     
*
     
*

      
Camryn awoke to tires squealing and a
weaving motion.

      
“What the hell is going on?” she yelled.

      
“Sorry. That eejit just pulled out in
front of me!” rasped Mickey as he pointed to the SUV in front of them.

      
She lowered the window and hung out
partially.
“Asshole!
Where did you learn how to
drive?”

      
Mickey broke out into throaty laughter.

      
She reeled herself in after the driver of
the SUV honked in response and waved his hand in apology.

*
     
*
     
*

      
Eoghan looked over his shoulder at the
carriage behind them. “The
lass is
passing fierce. She
called you
an
…”

      
Declan growled. “I heard ‘er! Ya don’t
need to repeat it.”

      
He looked in the rear-view mirror to
catch sight of her flashing her middle finger at him.

      
He was aboot to return the gesture when
he noticed the red sunglasses and cap. It was the gel from the plane! He slowed
his speed and pulled to the side to let them pass.

*
     
*
     
*

      
“What a jerk! First he’s in a hurry to
cut you off and then he pulls aside?” Camryn hissed. She was thankful she
wasn’t in Chicago. A person could get shot calling someone an asshole there.

      
After Mickey passed the SUV he glanced
out the rear-view mirror.
“Oh-oh.”

      
“Oh-oh what?” frowned Camryn.

      
“He’s following us.”

      
Camryn turned to get a better look of the
driver. She lifted her sunglasses and rubbed her eyes with her fingers, looking
again.

      
She swallowed hard. “Mickey, pull over.”

      
“What?”

      
“Please, pull over,” she whispered.

      
Mickey did as he was asked.

      
She opened her car door slowly. The SUV
slowed as to not take off her car door.

      
The driver rolled his window lower and
gazed at her for several moments and sped off as a line of traffic formed
behind him, honking their horns.

      
She blinked in surprise and yelled,
“Declan!”

*
     
*
     
*

      
The lass looked familiar, especially her
pouty lips.

      
A half-mile down the road, Declan stomped
on the brakes.

      
“Feck!”

      
“Is aught amiss?” questioned Eoghan,
gripping the dashboard, although he had no reason.

      
“T’was her!”

      
“Her, who?”

      
Declan spun the Rover around and pressed
the accelerator.

      
“Camryn!”

*
     
*
     
*

      
Camille drew away from him. Tears welled
in her eyes. “My dad thinks you have a victim fetish.”

      
Joe sprung from the couch, hands curled
into fists. “No offense, but you’re dad’s an asshole.”

      
She blinked in surprise and pulled a
pillow to her chest.

      
He knelt in front of her, pushing the oak
coffee table out of the way. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I happen
to open mouth and insert foot a lot. I’m in therapy for it.”

      
Camille broke out in laughter as tears
rolled down her cheeks.

      
He
cautiously took her hand and when she didn’t flinch, he cradled her hand into
both of his. “Camille, I’m not good at this stuff. And no, I don’t make a habit
of falling for victims. I just, well, when I heard what you went through to get
out of that place and how determined you were, I felt I
had
to know you.”

      
He stood and sat next to her, never
letting go of her hand. “I interviewed your co-workers. They told me you were
tough to work for because you demanded the very best from them, but they
respect the hell outta you. Then I spoke with your friend, Geoff.” Joe let out
a snorting laugh and continued.

      
“He says you two are best girl-friends.
Told me how when his boyfriend dumped him you took him to a spa and you both
got ‘pedi’s and mani’s’. He thinks the world of you and I believe he’d do
anything for you. Did you know he reported you missing? He blamed himself. He
said it was his fault because he told you to go with Orlov because, as he says,
the guy was ‘yum-i-cle’.”

      
Joe’s shoulder’s shivered.

      
“Of course I had to meet this incredibly
strong, brave and caring person. How could I not?” he said softly. “And when I
saw you the first time? Jeez, Camille, you totally blew me away. All the sudden
I’m looking forward to going into work-to find the bastards who did this to
you, to the others.”

      
Camille swallowed the lump in her throat.
She knew her dad was wrong about Joe. She placed her palm over his stubbled
cheek, leaned in and kissed him.

      
He pulled away slowly. “Does this mean
you’re staying?”

      
She grinned.
“Yeah.
I never listen to my dad.”

*
     
*
     
*

      
“Miss O’Mara?”

      
Camryn shook her head in disbelief and
her bottom lip quivered.

      
“Are we stopping here then?” asked a
bewildered Mickey.

      
She regained her composure. “No. Let’s
head back the other way. I think I saw a place to eat.” Nothing soothes the soul
like food. Come to think of it, liquor wouldn’t hurt either.

      
They got back into the car and Mickey
made a u-turn. A huge plate of food and a pint would sit nicely with him.
Perhaps a few pints would soften her mood.

      
“There!” Camryn pointed.

      
“Wild Knight?” asked Mickey.

      
“Yeah.
It looks
interesting, don’t ya think?”

      
Mickey pulled into the car park and
shrugged.

      
Camryn could smell the ocean as they
walked towards the pub. Perfect. The sun was shining, the temperature
comfortable. Externally everything was peachy. Internally everything sucked.
She was miserable and she knew Mickey wasn’t happy, either.

      
“Um, Mickey?”

      
“Yes Miss O’Mara?” he asked wearily.

      
“Lunch is on me,” she offered.

      
He grinned and hoped she had a big
pocketbook.

      
An impressive bronze statue of a knight
stood outside the pub. Camryn had a thing for knights. It all started when
Tamara got her into reading romance novels. The nameplate read ‘Sir Eoghan’.
She pointed it out to Mickey.

      
“Was he someone special, Sir E-o-
ghan
?”

      
Mickey looked at the name and shrugged.
“I’ve ne’er heard of ‘im, but it’s pronounced ‘Oh-in’.”

      
Blushing, Camryn took off her sunglasses
and tucked them into the top of her shirt when they entered the pub. Mickey
pointed toward the back. “That snug looks fine.”

      
“Snug?” questioned Camryn.

      
“Table then?”