Page 7 of Highballs & Hexes

“What’s the deal with him, Fi?” He nodded in the direction Patrick had gone. “Why bring him into family business?”

“He was a captive of Loman O’Connor’s, too. I’m thinking if anyone can find Tadhg, Patrick O’Malley can.”

Noah’s expression turned thoughtful. “O’Malley? As in the Unlucky O’Malleys?”

“Well, I can’t say I know about all that, but he came by about a month ago to check on Tadhg. Said he was contacting all Loman’s victims to make sure they were adjusting to the real world after their ordeal.” She shrugged. “He mentioned a few were having a rough go of it and went missing. It seemed best to call him when my brother disappeared on us.”

“I’d have helped ya, Fi. You know that, yeah?”

It hurt to look into Noah’s intense, dark eyes. She’d loved him once, and he’d broken her heart for no reason she could discern other than he didn’t love her back.

“You’ve got enough on your plate, Noah.” She offered up a smile, but it pulled down at the corners of her mouth. Not wanting to appear pathetic and sad, she shifted to leave again.

“Fionola.” Her name was spoken achingly sweet, stopping her in her tracks, and the salt from unshed tears burned her lids.

“Please don’t,” she croaked. “I’ve got to keep it together until I find Tadhg.”

He drew her into a hug, and the feel of his solid embrace was welcoming. “We’ll find him, love. I promise.”

“You can’t promise me that, Noah. You didn’t even know he was missing.”

The soft black material of his shirt against her cheek shifted when he shrugged, and the sensation wasn’t at all unpleasant. But it felt too fecking good to be held by him again, and she pulled away, then made the mistake of glancing up. An unidentifiable emotion burned in his eyes before he blinked it away and pasted on his standard devil-may-care grin.

“You’re giving me mixed signals again,” she accused with a scowl and a hard jab of her index finger against his forehead. “You’d best quit before you find yourself in my bed again.”

“That wouldn’t hurt my feelings in the least, love.”

“It would hurt mine. The next person I shag will be someone who intends to commit to me.” The single circuit wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, and she was lonely in a way only a soulmate could ease.

“Fi—”

She pressed her palm over his mouth, ignoring the tingle it caused her nerve endings. “It’s been almost seven months, Noah. You’re only showing interest now there’s another on thescene. And a stranger I’ve no connection to, at that.” Dropping her hand, she stared at his beautifully formed mouth, which was a helluva lot easier than meeting his probing gaze. “Don’t try marking a territory that’s no longer yours to mark.”

“What if I want it to be? Would you be willing to give me another chance?”

His question seemed heartfelt, but Fi wasn’t prepared to consider what his about-face meant. Not when she had other pressing matters to attend.

“Are you coming, or am I expected to break my feckin’ back by standing here all bleedin’ day?” Patrick growled from the doorway.

CHAPTER 4

Patrick stole from his precious store of magic to teleport Fionola and her father back to their residence. He smothered a groan as he settled James on top of the man’s bed. While there, he concealed any sign of weakness, both with his magic and his body, but if he didn’t go soon, he’d give himself away.

Still, he needed to discover what he could about Tadhg Bohannon’s disappearance before leaving. Unable to hide his limp this time, he followed Clara Bohannon back to the kitchen and eased into the chair she pointed to.

“What’s wrong with you, then?” she asked matter-of-factly as she turned her back to set the kettle to a boil.

“Nothing.”

“Sure, and that’s the greatest load of malarky I’ve heard this week. And believe you me, I hear loads, I do. I’m married tothatone.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the primary bedroom.

“Tell me about your son,” Patrick said, in an attempt to deflect her attention away from what ailed him.

Clara half turned and narrowed her eyes as she studied him. “Why are you hidin’ your injuries? And why haven’t yabeen healed yet?” When he opened his mouth to protest her conclusions, she waved a wooden spoon, cutting him off. “I’ve birthed three children and have a man who lives for a pint or ten. Don’t think to lie to me, Patrick O’Malley. I’ll not have it in me house, I won’t.”

An unwitting smile curled his lips, and as soon as he realized he’d cracked his cool exterior, he sobered and shot her a glare. “Mind your own business, then, yeah? I’m here to find your son and not a mother.”

“You’re too bleedin’ old to be any child of mine.”

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