I’m sure Ronan knows better than I do that Annie isn’t a woman who’d let herself be hurt without fighting back.
“What’s all this about?” Desmond looks at the papers and map on the desk. “You said it was an emergency. What’s going on?”
Ronan’s jaw tightens. “Annie’s missing.”
To his credit, Desmond looks genuinely shocked. “Missing?” He looks between the two of us. “What do you mean,missing?”
“I mean exactly that,” Ronan growls. “And you were the last person to see her.” He flattens his palms on the table, leaning forward with a look in his eyes that I hope never to see directed at me. “Why were you out with my sister, Desmond?”
Desmond rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “Well—” He lets out a sharp breath. “She didn’t want to tell you just yet. She wasn’t sure if it was more than a crush on both of our parts, and she thought it was better we keep it to ourselves for now?—”
“Are you telling me—” Ronan’s voice is deadly quiet, “that you’redatingAnnie?”
Desmond’s demeanor turns instantly defensive. “We’ve been out on a couple of dates, yes. Nothing official. Just feeling things out, seeing how it goes?—”
“Annie O’Malley is not a woman that you justsee how things go with! She is my sister! The only O’Malley daughter! She is—” Ronan sucks in a breath, and I see his hands fist on the table. “Who the hell do you think you are, Connelly, to date my sister without my permission?”
Desmond seems unaffected by the way the temperature seems to have dropped in the room. He shoves his hands into his suit pockets, looking mildly at Ronan, though his Irish brogue thickens as he speaks, a clear sign he’s irritated. “Well, I didn’t think I’d be needing your permission, exactly. Your sister’s a grown woman, and promised to no one. But she thought it’d be better to keep it quiet until we were sure we wanted to make something of it, given what happened with Siobhan?—”
“Shut up.” The tendons in Ronan’s neck are standing out—his jaw is clenched so tightly. He straightens, every movement of his body stiff. “I don’t want to fucking talk about Siobhan.”
Desmond rocks forward on the balls of his feet. “Well, she was my sister. So I’ll speak about her if I wish. You ask me who I think I am, Ronan O’Malley, well, I was your brother-in-lawonce. And if my sister was good enough to marry you, I reckon I’m good enough for your sister.”
Ronan draws in a heavy breath and lets it out, his eyes flinty with anger. “I said I don’t want to fucking speak about Siobhan. That’s buried and done. What she did?—”
“What she did?” Desmond’s eyes flash. “And if she’d had the proper security?—”
“Don’t.” Ronan’s voice is ice-cold, and something in it stops Desmond in his tracks.
“If there’s something I can be doing to help, then let me know,” Desmond says, his voice turning cold, too. “But I’ll not stand here and be lectured about how I’m not fit for your sister when you were good enough for mine.”
“Your face.” I gesture toward him, unable to stay silent a moment longer. It’s clear there are deep-seated issues between these two, but what I want to know is if there’s some connection to what happened to Annie. Whatever feud there is between Desmond and Ronan over Ronan’s late wife, they can figure it out on their own time, as far as I’m concerned. “How did that happen, Desmond? And when?”
“Last night,” Desmond says easily, and I stiffen, rage building.
“Last night,” I repeat carefully, and he nods. “How the fuck did you get wounds like that while out on a date with Annie?” Just saying that last part burns my tongue. I know I can’t have her, butfuckif I want this pompous ass to ever so much as lay a finger on her again, even with her permission.
“Maeve,” Desmond says simply, and I frown, gritting my teeth.
“You went out with another woman after?—”
“No,” Ronan interrupts, his expression confused. “Maeve is Desmond’s little sister. How exactly?—”
“She hasn’t been doing well since Siobhan passed,” Desmond says tightly. “Stays in her room, doesn’t go out, doesn’t speak to anyone. I got her a kitten, thought it might make things better. Went to check on her last night when I came home after seeing Annie, and she couldn’t find the little bugger. Was crying, looking everywhere. I finally found the wee thing under a dresser, but it scratched me all to hell getting it out.” He touches one of the scratches gingerly. “Worth it, to see Maeve’s face after I found the little beast, though.”
“A kitten,” I repeat, and Desmond nods. I look at Ronan, and I’m so startled to see the look of sympathy that’s replaced the icy rage on his face that I flinch.
“I didn’t realize Maeve was having so hard a time,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry to hear it.”
“It’s not only your own family who had struggles after Siobhan died,” Desmond says flatly. “Though I know the O’Malleys have only ever been up their own arses.”
Ronan’s jaw tightens, and I step forward, inserting myself into the conversation yet again. “Did Annie say which friend she was staying with in the city, after your date?”
Desmond shakes his head. “No. I didn’t want to pry, seem as if I was being too nosy in her private life. She said she was going to spend the night with a friend, I said thanks for a nice evening, we went our separate ways. To be honest, I was a bit worried about Maeve and wanting to get back to her.”
“But not so worried that you didn’t go out dancing with Annie at a nightclub after dinner,” I point out.
“Oh, Christ.” Desmond rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “Am I on trial here? I had no plans to be acting as a father to a hysterical eighteen-year-old, but here I am, the only one left of our family besides Maeve herself. Forgive me for enjoying a bit of a night out,” he adds acerbically.
