her sister slithered from the back of Nic’s brain. And once again, she repressed it. Banging her fist into the wall, she pivoted and marched back to her bedroom.
The coincidence of Cassy showing up here, the day after Nic killed a man, was not lost on her. If her sister lived close enough, she might have seen the news reports on TV. Or …
Someone knew about Cassy and told her. That thought didn’t settle well with Nic. Only two men could be responsible, and both of them were privy to too much sensitive information about her. One because he was her boss. The other because she got drunk off her ass last night and might have babbled.
Eventually, the truth would come out on whoever alerted Cassy.
And Nic would pound ’em.
• • •
The moment Con knocked off from his shift, he headed home to let Cadno have a run in the fenced-in backyard before the storm hit, then fed him. After that, Con went straight for his mam’s pub and grill. He was in serious need of a good, extra stout Guinness and some of his sister’s cooking. Seth Moore’s apparent suicide, Nic Rivers’s unstable mindset, and yesterday’s murder/death fallout had all combined to give him the much-needed excuse to visit his mam. And have a few beers.
When there was a break in the rain, he ran for the building. Passing through the heavy wood doors with their original stained glass windows, Con entered the oddly cheerful atmosphere of Killdeer Pub. The place didn’t hold to the normal conventions of depression and darkness to promote longer stays and more drinking. It was open, bright, and airy, much like his mam. And the name of the pub was something of a running joke among his family. Maura O’Hanlon got a kick out of seeing those peculiar birds called killdeer run around, trying to lead any potential threat away from their nests. Their irritating calls amused her to the point she named her business after the batty birds.
Or so she told everyone who came through those doors. Con knew otherwise. For a bird that wanted to keep people away from its nest, the pub never drove people away; they flocked to it.
The tantalizing aroma of seared beef beckoned him to the kitchen. A few early patrons called out, and he waved at them. Slipping behind the bar, he grabbed a bottle of Guinness, popped the cap, and took a drag on the beer. The kitchen door swung open, nearly smacking him. He backpedaled out of the way as the newest addition to Killdeer’s staff backed out of the kitchen, his arms laden with trays.
Patrick Keegan winced when he caught sight of Con. “Sorry, didn’t see you there, Mr. O’Hanlon.”
Con grinned. “You’re fine, m’boy. I know better than to barge in without checking.” He stepped aside to let Patrick pass. “You liking it here?”
The twenty-five-year-old beamed. “Love it. Can’t thank your mom enough for hiring me.” He hurried out to the dining room floor to deliver his load.
Fresh out of college, Patrick had showed up in Eider driving a beat-up Ford and parked in the Killdeer Pub lot, where his truck promptly died for good. Defeated, he dragged into the pub, ordered a coffee, and proceeded to nurse it for three hours. Maura took pity on the kid and offered him a job and a place to stay until he could get back on his feet. She had a soft spot for anyone of Irish descent, and Patrick fit the bill.
The kid lived in the apartment above the pub that Con’s sister, Farran, had been using for storage. He worked every day in the pub, except Sunday when he took off for some “alone” time, as he called it.
A slap on Con’s shoulder startled him. He jerked around.
“Don’t just stand there. Help,” Farran barked and thrust a tall soda-pop canister in his direction.
Quickly setting down his beer, Con caught the canister and rolled the heavy thing to an open spot under the counter. Once he got it hooked up to the fountain hoses, he reclaimed his bottle and leaned on the bar while Farran finished connecting her
The coincidence of Cassy showing up here, the day after Nic killed a man, was not lost on her. If her sister lived close enough, she might have seen the news reports on TV. Or …
Someone knew about Cassy and told her. That thought didn’t settle well with Nic. Only two men could be responsible, and both of them were privy to too much sensitive information about her. One because he was her boss. The other because she got drunk off her ass last night and might have babbled.
Eventually, the truth would come out on whoever alerted Cassy.
And Nic would pound ’em.
• • •
The moment Con knocked off from his shift, he headed home to let Cadno have a run in the fenced-in backyard before the storm hit, then fed him. After that, Con went straight for his mam’s pub and grill. He was in serious need of a good, extra stout Guinness and some of his sister’s cooking. Seth Moore’s apparent suicide, Nic Rivers’s unstable mindset, and yesterday’s murder/death fallout had all combined to give him the much-needed excuse to visit his mam. And have a few beers.
When there was a break in the rain, he ran for the building. Passing through the heavy wood doors with their original stained glass windows, Con entered the oddly cheerful atmosphere of Killdeer Pub. The place didn’t hold to the normal conventions of depression and darkness to promote longer stays and more drinking. It was open, bright, and airy, much like his mam. And the name of the pub was something of a running joke among his family. Maura O’Hanlon got a kick out of seeing those peculiar birds called killdeer run around, trying to lead any potential threat away from their nests. Their irritating calls amused her to the point she named her business after the batty birds.
Or so she told everyone who came through those doors. Con knew otherwise. For a bird that wanted to keep people away from its nest, the pub never drove people away; they flocked to it.
The tantalizing aroma of seared beef beckoned him to the kitchen. A few early patrons called out, and he waved at them. Slipping behind the bar, he grabbed a bottle of Guinness, popped the cap, and took a drag on the beer. The kitchen door swung open, nearly smacking him. He backpedaled out of the way as the newest addition to Killdeer’s staff backed out of the kitchen, his arms laden with trays.
Patrick Keegan winced when he caught sight of Con. “Sorry, didn’t see you there, Mr. O’Hanlon.”
Con grinned. “You’re fine, m’boy. I know better than to barge in without checking.” He stepped aside to let Patrick pass. “You liking it here?”
The twenty-five-year-old beamed. “Love it. Can’t thank your mom enough for hiring me.” He hurried out to the dining room floor to deliver his load.
Fresh out of college, Patrick had showed up in Eider driving a beat-up Ford and parked in the Killdeer Pub lot, where his truck promptly died for good. Defeated, he dragged into the pub, ordered a coffee, and proceeded to nurse it for three hours. Maura took pity on the kid and offered him a job and a place to stay until he could get back on his feet. She had a soft spot for anyone of Irish descent, and Patrick fit the bill.
The kid lived in the apartment above the pub that Con’s sister, Farran, had been using for storage. He worked every day in the pub, except Sunday when he took off for some “alone” time, as he called it.
A slap on Con’s shoulder startled him. He jerked around.
“Don’t just stand there. Help,” Farran barked and thrust a tall soda-pop canister in his direction.
Quickly setting down his beer, Con caught the canister and rolled the heavy thing to an open spot under the counter. Once he got it hooked up to the fountain hoses, he reclaimed his bottle and leaned on the bar while Farran finished connecting her
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