Page 12 of Wine & Warlocks

She gestured to Ronan to tell the tale since he’d been in the thick of things.

“The Golden Son is Aeden O’Malley” —he paused for Dubheasa to insert “my brother Carrick’s boy” before continuing— “and theOneis Sabrina Dethridge.”

Trevor suddenly looked sickly. “This is very personal for the Aether, isn’t it?”

“Aye, and there’s no cocking it up.” Ronan’s expression turned downright grim. “My father knows the advantage to be gained by killing her and obtaining what power she has. If he were to get that level of magicandher visions, he’d be unstoppable.”

“And you believe that’s who he’s after?”

“Eventually. But he has to build up enough other abilities first. He’d be a fool to take on the Aether with nothing to back him up. And my da is no fool. Overly ambitious, aye. Fool, no.”

Dubheasa didn’t need to think long or hard about what she was about to offer. If it meant stopping Loman, she’d do it by any means. Legal or not. “Ronan, you know I was hired on at Lamda Unlimited as a software developer and I consulted on everyone’s program designs, yeah?” At his short nod, she continued. “I’ve still got a few connections who might help us access your da’s old account and any others that would have transferred money in or out. Couldn’t we track him that way?”

“It’s what I did when I… when…” He sighed and shook his head as if he didn’t want to relive the time. “When I deceived you to get access to your laptop’s software.”

Ignoring the pang she felt, she asked, “How deep were you able to dig, and were you able to access phone records, too?”

“Deep enough to cause him a headache, to be sure. And I have a second set of numbers but never needed to use them. Me dear old da showed his arse first.”

The picture of thoughtful, Trevor rubbed his thumb along his chin. “But it stands to reason he may still have access to those numbers or perhaps would’ve gone into a brick-and-mortar phone store to reactivate one or more of them.” He grinned at Dubheasa when she nodded. “Why do I have the feeling you’re going to locate him with some hereto-unheard-of technology?”

“Not unheard of, but it’s a GPS app I was working on for Nick Lamda’s new division. He had a contract with the US government,” she told them. Addressing Ronan, she said, “I still have the original prototype software, so if you have Loman’s information, I can hack it.”

Ronan’s smile, full of admiration, was beatific and warmed her from her hairline to her curled toes. “I don’t know why I didn’t ask for your help from the start, Dove. You’ve a brilliant mind, you do.”

With a toss of her hair over her shoulder and a mock stern look, she said, “I’d not have helped you then, or at least not without good reason. I was after keeping my job.”

“You’d have helped had I been wise enough to ask, I think, knowing what you know about the O’Connor clan.” His confidence disturbed her. Never did she want anyone to understand her well enough to anticipate her next move. Not that she wanted to appear flighty or rebellious, but staid and predictable was boring.

Eyes locked on hers, he grinned.“You’re anything but staid and predictable, love.”

“I liked it better when I could read your mind, not the other way around. And I’ll not be telling you again to stay out of my head, Ronan O’Connor. This is your one and only warning.”

His wicked chuckle set her insides on a slow simmer, and not the angry kind of heat. It brought to mind the delicious way he’d laughed with her over a meal and later in bed when he thought her words amusing.

What might they have been, had he been truthful?

Swamped with sadness, she turned away.

Ronan touched his knee to hers under the table, but when she looked at him, he was serious and not flirty in the least. “I’m sorry for what resulted in your termination, Dove. I’ll see what I can do to fix it when this is done, yeah?”

“You mean it?” She didn’t dare hope.

“I do.”

Stemming the desire to hug him from her deep feelings of gratitude, she turned to see Trevor with his head buried in his phone, and she received the impression he was trying to give them a smidgeon of privacy, in his own way.

“Are you interested in how the last line of the prophesy played out, then?”

With a slight frown and a swipe, he set his phone down and focused on her. “Yes. How did the O’Malleys get their magic back?”

“The third line referred to the Enemy at the Gate—Ruairí O’Connor, though not a true enemy in any sense of the word—and the Keeper of the Sword, my sister Bridget.”

“Wouldn’t the Keeper of the Sword be the one who possessed it?”

Ronan grinned. “That was my thought, too, but Damian had me considering the riddle from another viewpoint. My cousin Ruairí always was the smartest of us, and he’d already figured it out. So, he brought the feckin’ sword here, to the inn, and hid it. He was waiting for Bridget to forgive him for his boneheaded mistakes of the past before turning it over.”

“Hm.” Trevor’s brows shot up, and he gave Dubheasa a pointed stare. “Maybe there’s a lesson there for others.”

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