Aoife waited until she saw Gemma's car slam into reverse, whip forward into traffic, and burn rubber down the street. Sighing, the Irishwoman turned away from the window. Cole intercepted her before she got back into the office.
"What was that? Are you okay?" The waiter whispered.
"Nothing you need to worry about, Cole." She put a reassuring hand on his forearm. "It's fine. Thanks for asking."
"Okay," he replied, returning to the register, but Aoife felt his eyes follow her back into the office.
Aoife sat back down in the chair and scanned the ordering system for where she had stopped. She had just found her place again when heavy footsteps entered the office. Dammit, I am trying to get shit done around here, Aoife cursed in her head. Exhaling slowly to relieve some tension and blow loose strands of hair out of her face, she looked up in frustration and found Della glowering at her.
"That was Gemma Teller-Morrow that just stormed out of here, wasn't it? What was Miss High-and-Mighty doing in your office?" Della demanded.
Aoife drew in a deep breath to keep herself from snapping at her nosy baker. "We were discussing a private matter. You don't need to concern yourself, Della."
The baker crossed her arms over her flour-dusted apron. "I don't like working in a place where people like her make personal visits. I've warned you and warned you about the Sons and everyone associated with them."
"That's it." Aoife rose to her feet and brought herself nose to nose with her employee. Her voice was a terse whisper. "Della, you are a valuable employee. You work hard and you do good work. You worked for my aunt for years, and I appreciate that kind of loyalty. But my personal life is just that – my personal life. It's not up for debate. I refuse to have another conversation about who I do and don't associate with. Are we clear?"
Della glared, her nostrils flaring. "Yes, ma'am," she pushed through clenched teeth before she turned on her heel and stomped back out of the office.
The insistent ringing woke Aoife. She lifted her head enough to look at the nightstand on her side of the bed. Her regular cell phone was dark and quiet. "Filip, sweetheart, I think your phone's going off," she mumbled sleepily and jostled his shoulder.
"Unh?" Chibs grunted. She felt him roll away and then back. "Ain't mine." The ringing stopped. Aoife closed her eyes again. In seconds, the ringtone resumed.
Groggily, she spoke through the problem. "Well, if it's not yours and not mine…shit, it's the burner phone Juice gave me." She leaned her upper body over to fumble with the robe that Chibs had slid off her shoulders a few hours earlier. Just as her fingers finally located the phone in the pocket, the ringing ceased. Aoife rolled onto her back and held the phone, waiting. Within a minute, it buzzed to life. "Declan, do you have any fucking idea what time it is here?"
"Aye, darlin', I do. But what I have to say can't wait." He cleared his throat. "I just fired Finnbar."
Aoife sat straight up in bed. "You what? Declan, you were keepin' an eye on him for us! What the hell!"
"I didn't have a choice! He was stealing from us. We found out a few weeks ago when his division bookkeeper went on maternity leave and Mrs. Flaherty helped with month-end close. Started right about the time you headed to the States. It seems that he decided if he couldn't inherit the Skerrett fortune by marrying you and then killing you, he was going to steal it. When he realized we were on to him, he had some of his boys pay Mrs. F.'s flat a visit."
Aoife's free hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, no." She felt Chibs strong arms wrap around her waist and pull her back against his chest. He pressed a kiss to the freckles that dotted her shoulders and held her close, trying to comfort her. "How – is – what did they do?"
"Mrs. Flaherty's okay, but her son wasn't so lucky. She was on a long weekend holiday, and he was pet-sitting and asleep in her bed."
"Oh, God," Aoife stifled a cry of anguish. "Tommy…" was all she could say.
"He's in hospital. In a coma. Docs don't know if he's going to make it yet." Declan paused, and Aoife could hear him sniffle and brush away tears. "I had to let Finnbar go, Aoife. He and about a dozen of his guys. I can't have our employees and their families in danger. I'm so sorry, love."
Aoife wiped the tear from her cheeks and found her voice. "No, you did the right thing. We can't put our people at risk. What about all of the drivers?" she hinted at the clandestine IRA transports.
"We're doing a massive reorganization, shaking up the whole company. That should neutralize any of his contacts I missed. I'm personally vetting all of the transport drivers. You don't need to worry about it. That's under control. And before you ask, aye, I've already beefed up my security. I'm worried about you, dear cousin."
"Me?" Aoife asked.
"Aye, you, my darling. The last thing that Finnbar told me as he was being dragged out of the office by security was that I was a dead man, but he was going to leave me alone long enough so that I could see you come back to Ireland in a coffin."
"But I'm all the way in California," she protested weakly.
"And what better place for him to go? Think about it. Declan just endangered an incredible number of people and years of work because he got greedy. He's going to be persona non grata 'round certain circles. Wouldn't be surprised if he already has a price on his head. Safest thing for him to do is leave Ireland, and while he does, why not settle his score with you? He's itchin' to take out all of his anger. That pompous prick blames you for everything. Seems to me that he'll be making a beeline for California." Aoife's blood turned to ice. She found herself unable to put together a coherent answer. She heard a buzzer on the other end and then Declan apologized, "I'm sorry, but I've got to go to a meeting to figure out this re-org. You be careful, okay? I'll be checking in regular."
"I will, Dec. Thanks for letting me know. I love you."
"I love you, too, darling." Aoife let the hand holding her phone drop to her lap while she sat, frozen, absorbing the weight of Declan's words. Chibs gave her a gentle squeeze and kissed her shoulder again.
"It's going to be alright, you know." Chibs whispered. "That fucker's not going to lay a hand on you. I will kill him with my bare hands if I have to."
Aoife stilled, closed her eyes, and thought about what she had to do. Chibs watched her spine straighten and then she turned so that she was kneeling between his legs, clasping his hands in hers. She kissed Chibs tenderly and then whispered in a steely voice. "No, sweetheart, the bastard's all mine. I want you next to me, but I need to pull that trigger. I'm done running scared. Finnbar killed my brother. He had his thugs beat one of my childhood friends nearly to death. He's threatenin' to kill my cousin, my best friend. He's fucked with my family for the last damn time."
