"You should really be laying down," Dermot scolded from a chair next to her hospital bed. He carefully inspected the fingernail he had been chewing on before moving on to the next one.
Aven Donaghue rolled her eyes. "It's not as bad as you think it is – and I can tell you're so clearly concerned."
Her brother leaned forward in the chair. "You took a hard fall, Av. Doesn't hurt to check things out."
"I know. I'm just pissed it all went down that way."
"Well, you know who to speak to about that."
"And we both know that won't happen," Aven returned. "Uncle Peter swore to me he would never put us in harm's way."
"He didn't put us in harm's way. He put you in harm's way."
"Let's not talk loopholes, Dermot. I'm not in the mood."
Dermot sat back in the chair and resumed chewing on his fingernails. Before the doctor could return with results of Aven's head scan, their Captain stepped into the room.
"What the hell happened?" he demanded.
"It's nothing, Captain," Aven replied casually. "Just a little bump on the head."
"Word I got is that you fell two stories to hard concrete."
"Sounds about right," Dermot piped up.
Aven glared at him. "Don't you have some paperwork to fill out, dear brother?"
Dermot rolled his eyes; being trained under his older sister had its perks and it had its curses. He did as was encouraged though, and headed back for the organization's office to begin the paperwork Aven would eventually have to complete. Once he was out of earshot, she turned back to the Captain.
"We destroyed the files and we were on our way out. The power was shut off, so the elevators were out and the electric locks were down. We were scaling out a window at the back of the building, and my rope was cut."
Captain raised his brow at her. "It was cut?"
Aven let out a breath. "Yes, and I know what that means. I'll take care of it."
"I trust that you will." He handed her a few pieces of paper. "We've been tracking the mafia in Boston. There are some rumblings about alliances with the Russians. In supervising that situation, I've come across a new tie with your family."
Aven scanned the report and then the pictures she had been given. The report named Gavan McConnelly as Boston's shot-caller for the Irish Mafia. In several pictures, he was shown being affectionate with a woman – clearly someone he was dating. The woman's face was all too familiar.
"Torrin is dating him," Aven whispered to herself. Saying it aloud made it real. "Have you approached her?"
Captain shook his head. "This is under the radar right now. I wanted you to be have the option to choose what you want to do."
"I want to go to Boston," she replied without hesitation. "I have to know what's going on. This isn't a phone conversation."
"I know that," Captain assured her, taking the papers back. "I want to know what the doctor says about your head. If that clears, I want you to go to your uncle; Torrin is his daughter. If after speaking with him you still truly believe she needs your protection, Aven, I will send you to Boston."
"What about Dermot?"
"He's trained. You've done a good job of that. If you come back, I'll partner you up again, but in the meantime, I'll make sure he has a dependable partner."
"I want the final approval on that."
"Fine."
The Captain waited with her while the doctor reviewed her scans. She had a minor concussion that would require a few days of rest before Aven would be allowed back to work. Before letting her catch a cab back to her loft, the Captain made her promise not to speak with her uncle until she was cleared back to work.
Aven agreed but knew it was a promise already broken.
.&.
Connor held the door open while Murphy patiently helped Doc over to his bed. Once both of the other men were inside the room, Connor let go of the door to open the bag that contained all of Doc's meds.
"Now, we'll be by several times a day to see to it you're taking these," Connor warned.
"Yeah, so don't be skipping doses," Murphy added.
Doc chuckled as he settled against the pillows and pulled the blankets up to his chest. "Oh, boys. One or two pills aren't going to make a difference in this outcome."
The twins exchanged an uneasy glance. Murphy went for a glass of water while Connor counted out the first dose of the pills Doc had been instructed to take.
"You never know what could happen," Connor assured.
Doc dutifully swallowed his pills, but shook his head. "Come now. We all know what this is. I've been sent home to die, lads." Both of the twins rushed to argue, but Doc stopped them. "No use arguin' it. I've lived my life and it's time for me to go. This ole ticker doesn't want to take me any further."
"What about the bar?" Murphy asked. "It can't run without you."
"It can and it will," Doc countered. "Oh, I'd love to leave it to you boys, but you've got a job already. An important one at that. So, I've sold it."
"Sold it?" Connor repeated with a frown.
"In the process of selling it. The lawyer will come see me tomorrow to give me all the final details." He had expected the disappointment in their expressions, but hadn't expected that disappointment to affect him so much. "I'm going to rest now. Are you boys off?"
Murphy shook his head. "We'll be around, downstairs. Yell if you need us."
"Will do." Doc smiled as his tired eyes closed and sleep came over him.
Connor and Murphy stepped outside of the room, closing the door behind them. They stood in the hallway for a few moment, trying to process everything.
"This is really it, isn't it?" Murphy spoke up.
Connor nodded. "Aye. I think it is."
Murphy swallowed hard and refused to tear up. "We've got to do something. We can't let him sell this place."
"I think it's already in the works, Murph. It's what he wants."
Murphy shook his head. "I don't like it."
"Yeah, well, neither do I, but it ain't our call. Come on. Let's get a drink."
Reluctantly, they walked away from the bedroom, both silently praying for a miracle.
.&.
It was a pretty day in Boston, rare for this time of year. Torrin Hannigan was hellbent on taking advantage of it. She donned a pretty floral dress, added some stylish accessories, and headed out the door. She had a meeting with a lawyer later in the morning, and then would be meeting Gavan, her new boyfriend, for lunch.
It had taken a few years, several waitressing jobs, and some business courses, but Torrin was finally ready to sign the papers to buy her own pub. She would have to hire some people to help her, but McGinty's was already a successful pub and even if she lost some of the current clientele, Torrin was confident she could afford to bring in two, maybe three employees.
How different this was from her life growing up. There were no more secrets, no more hiding out, no more lies. She could present her life at face value without concern of what new friends might find out about her later.
Just before she walked in to meet the lawyer, her cousin called from Ireland. Torrin and Aven were close, and Torrin never passed on a call from her dearest family member.
"Good morning – or I should say good afternoon to you," Torrin greeted.
"Well, good morning to you," Aven replied. Her usually cheerful voice sounded somber – and maybe worried?
"You all right? You sound upset."
"I'm fine, just tired. It was a late night," Aven explained. "What are you up to?"
"About to sign the papers for the pub," Torrin grinned. "It's all coming together, Av."
"Still think you'll have to hire in some help?"
"Sure," Torrin confirmed. "But it shouldn't be a problem. Won't have to pay rent since I'll have the apartment above the pub. I can be there as much as I need to be."
"It's all happening for you, Tor," Aven replied, and Torrin could hear the smile in her cousin's voice.
"Aye," Torrin agreed. "My life finally makes sense. I've got just a few minutes before the lawyers get here, so enough about me. Tell me what's going on with you."
There was a momentary pause. "I need to come back to Boston."
Fear gripped every nerve in Torrin's body. Just when things were beginning to make sense, had her cousin been caught up in the same world their fathers were a part of? She hated to even think of it. Then again, Aven's line of work could just as easily put in her danger without help from their fathers' work.
"What happened?"
Aven let out a deep sigh. "A project that went bad. I'm all right, and Dermot's just fine. He'll keep working, with a new partner. But I've got to get out of Ireland. How would you like a partner and bartender for that pub? And maybe a roommate?"
Torrin thought it over. "That'd be just about perfect, actually. You and me workin' together? We'd make quite the team."
"Aye," Aven agreed; the smile had returned to her voice. "Can you fax me over the paperwork? I'll have the agency's lawyer take a look for me. I can wire over the money as soon as everything is agreed upon."
Torrin got the number from Aven to fax the paperwork, and Aven wrote down some numbers that Torrin supplied.
"I suppose I'll be seeing you soon," Torrin breathed. "Be safe."
"Always," Aven promised. "You do the same."
Torrin promised she was just fine and ended the call. The lawyers were both arriving to the building then, so she followed them up to the conference room to discuss this newest development.
.&.
As soon as she was off the phone with Torrin, Aven headed over to the family's office building to meet with her uncle. His secretary told Aven that Peter Hannigan was in a meeting and it could be quite a while before he was available to meet with her. Aven saw right through the younger woman's façade; she had clearly been instructed to give Aven that answer.
"It's fine," Aven said flatly. "I'll wait."
"Miss, it could really be –"
"All day?" Aven finished for her. "What I have to tell him about won't take long. I'll stick around in case they get a break or something."
"Very well." The young blonde went back to her computer for a few minutes as Aven sat in a nearby chair. Then, the secretary picked up a few file folders and knocked on Peter's door. Aven could hear a hushed conversation before the secretary returned. "It seems Mr. Hannigan's conference call has been delayed. You may go in."
"Thank you." Aven took a deep breath and walked into her uncle's office.
It was just as intimidating now as it had been when she was a child. Clutter-free and immaculate, cool but comfortable – the office's appearance matched her uncle's appearance perfectly. But, as they say, appearances can be deceiving.
"Aven, my dear girl," Peter greeted, coming around to hug her.
She returned his embrace and kissed his cheek. "Uncle Peter."
"Have a seat," he offered, motioning to a chair in front of his desk. "What brings you by?"
Aven took a deep breath. "Have you talked to Torrin lately?"
Peter waved a hand in the air. "Here and there, when she calls Belinda."
"So you know she's dating someone."
Peter shuffled papers and sounded impatient. "I was aware of it."
Aven pursed her lips. "Did you know that the man she's dating is Gavan McConnelly?"
At this, Peter paused, pushing the papers to the side in an unkempt pile. "I was not aware of that. How did you find out?"
"It's not important," Aven dismissed. "I want to know what you're going to do about it."
"Do about it?" Peter frowned. "I've no hand in my daughter's decisions, Aven. She made that quite clear when she chose to stay in the States after she graduated high school."
"If he doesn't already know who she is, he'll find out," Aven continued. "He'll take advantage of that to come for your position. Don't you know that? Or he'll threaten her – kidnap her and demand your job as ransom."
"Bollocks," Peter snorted. "You're jumping to conclusions. You have no idea what kind of a man he is. Maybe he's perfectly content where he's at."
"When have any of you been content where you're at?" Aven countered. "You fought your way to where you are now. Why would Gavan McConnelly be any different?"
Peter shook his head. "Overreacting as usual. You're a passionate, fierce-willed girl, Aven, and I've always admired that about you. It could possibly be your greatest attribute, and also your worst."
"I'm going to Boston. Partnering with Torrin on the new pub."
"You're going to find something wrong with Gavan so that you can put him away and out of her life," Peter countered, standing from his chair.
Aven stood to meet eyes with him. "No, I'm going for Torrin. If you will not protect her, I will."
.&.
The end was coming. Doc was sleeping more than he was awake and no longer had an appetite. The brothers did what they could to keep him hydrated and comfortable, but they knew he would be gone soon.
"Boys," Doc coughed out upon waking one afternoon. "Boys, come here."
They were already at his sides, but they took his hands so he would be aware of their presence. He took a couple of deep breaths before looking at both of them.
"You're good boys," he told them. "I want you to know what's going to happen after I die."
"We're listening," Connor assured.
"I've sold the bar to two pretty Irish girls. You'll like them, I think," Doc beamed. "The lawyer has told me all about them, and even brought a picture. Don't give them too much trouble, will ya? And you'll come around every once in a while to make sure no one's givin' 'em a hard time?"
"If that's what you want, we'll do it," Murphy promised.
"Good boys. I always said you were good boys," Doc smiled as he drifted off to sleep again. The boys let go of his hands but stayed by his side. Whatever else they had going on, it would simply have to wait. They had more important things to tend to at the moment.
They were still there two days later when Doc McGinty went to sleep for the last time.
