Page 69 of Pints & Potions

As if to add weight to his comment, the front door burst open and a harried Ruairí ran into the room. All his focus was on Bridget as he crossed to her and ignored everyone else.

“Bridg!” He tugged her to her feet and hugged her, purposefully disregarding the little fact that she shoved roughly against his chest. “Don’t be fightin’ me on this, woman! I’ve had years scared off me life.”

Alastair grinned. “That’s one suspect we can rule out.”

“Get off me, you fecking eejit,” Bridget growled with a swift kick to Ruairí’s shin.

“Ouch!You’re a she-devil, to be sure,mo ghrá,but I’ll allow that you’ve had a scare tonight.” He cupped her cheeks, and she bit at his hand. “Well, at least I know you’re not hurt,” he muttered as he jumped backwards to avoid another injury. He surveyed the room, and a concerned expression crossed his face. “Where are Cian and Piper?”

“Piper is… gone, and Cian needed alone time.” Alastair tugged his sleeves. He didn’t believe this particular O’Connor was behind tonight’s events, but it was always wise to be cautious. It was never good to reveal all one’s cards in a game of chance.

“Gone?” Alarm coated his response.

It was Bridget who eased his worry. “Back in America.”

Alastair sighed his frustration.Why did the Irish have to be so disgustingly forthright?

Ruairí nodded absently. “If I’m not mistaken, this isn’t the first attack on your family recently,” he said to the O’Malley siblings. “I want to help. Tell me what I can do.”

“Get back to your side of the fence,” Bridget snapped. “You’re well aware, you are, that O’Connors aren’t welcome here.”

Ruairí narrowed his eyes and compressed his mouth in a tight line. After a long moment, he growled his irritation. “I’ll go, but know this, Bridget O’Malley; you’re going to have to deal with what’s between us sooner rather than later. I’m done with your anger over ancient history.”

In an instant, her hand was wrapped around Alastair’s empty tumbler and the glass was sailing for Ruairí’s head. “I’ll give you ancient history, you prick! You’re thick as shite.”

Ruairí had the reflexes of a cat, or he’d anticipated her rage, because he ducked and the glass shattered on the wall behind him. For the longest time, he stared at the shattered particles on the floor without comment. However much he’d tried to hide his feelings, a wave of sadness rippled out from him and washed over Alastair.

As an empath, Alastair had the ability to read another’s deeper feelings, and O’Connor’s indicated he was suffering over Bridget’s continued rejection. Was it motive for the man to undermine the O’Malleys’ future happiness and potential return of magic? Alastair didn’t believe so, but he’d been blind-sided by another’s resentment in the past.

The snap of GiGi’s fingers pulled him from his musing. The tumbler was restored to its original state and rested back on the table where Alastair had initially placed it.

Ruairí headed for the door without a backward glance. “If you need me, Carrick, just ask. For sure, your stubborn-arsed sister won’t,” he said as he exited.

“One day, you’re going to tell me what went down between you and Ruairí, Bridg, and don’t say nothing, because we’ll all know you for a liar.” Carrick rose to his feet. “I’ve a need to check on Aeden and Cian. But I’ll be mulling over who might want to harm the family.”

The beepingof a machine preceded the squeeze of a blood-pressure cuff on Piper’s arm. The muted overhead light was still bright enough to make her wince, and she squinted against the glare.

“She’s waking up,” her mother said in a low voice as she tore away the Velcro holding the cuff in place.

“Mom?” How she came to be here she could only guess, but the previous night’s events were sketchy to Piper’s groggy mind.

“Yes, sweetheart.” Her mother gripped her hand. “Take it easy, you’re recovering from surgery.”

Already, Piper could feel the knitting of her flesh underneath the bandage. “Good old magic.”

“And good old medical know-how,” her father added with a raspy chuckle. “You’re fortunate your mother is a talented surgeon, Pip.”

She shifted her head to see her father rise from a bedside chair. “Dad.”

“This is starting to be a habit: you getting hurt, and me keeping vigil by your bed.”

A laugh bubbled up, but it wasn’t at all humorous. “What happened?”

“In the midst of all the commotion, you were shot in the chest.” He struggled not to show his rage, but Piper couldn’t miss it, along with his frustration. “Once again, you were targeted.”

“I still don’t understand why someone wants to hurt me.”

Rebecca put her arm around Hoyt and rested her head on his shoulder. “It’s not you personally, sweetheart,” she said. “Or at least Alastair doesn’t believe so. He holds a theory that someone wants to prevent you from forming a relationship with Cian.”

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