“Fuck,” Patrick shouted, running after the departing vehicle. “Bastard.”
“Did you recognize him?”
“No, but he had private investigator written all over him.”
“I have his number plate.”
“Clever girl. We’ll use the vehicle finder service and see what we can dredge up.”
“It might not be his vehicle.”
“True. Maybe Dallas will have some ideas.” He darted a sharp glance in her direction, his eyes narrowing as if a thought had occurred to him. “Would your parents set a private investigator on you?”
Laura thought about it for two seconds before she gave a curt nod. “Yes. Yes, they’d do something like that.” She jammed her hands in her jeans pockets to stem her urge to strike out with her fists. “Maybe I should listen to the rest of my messages instead of deleting them.”
The rest of the drive to the house was uneventful, with no sightings of the blue car. Laura listened to her mother’s messages become shorter, crisper before they gave way to voicemail from other family members. Her older sisters and her father. All were in the same vein. She was acting like a child, and it was time for her to come home. After listening to the final one, she huffed out a huge breath and hit delete on the lot.
“You’re the youngest,” she said. “Your family doesn’t treat you like an idiot, incapable of doing anything by yourself.”
“They do at times.”
“And how do you cope with it?” It was easy to hear her frustration. It throbbed through her voice and in the distance between them.
“I ignore them and do my own thing.”
She snorted. “So not working for me. I was born with a mild heart murmur. The heart thing has never slowed me down. I tried playing every sport I could, even though my parents didn’t approve.” She sighed, a loud, unhappy whoosh of air. “I guess they worry I’m not strong enough to cope. My health isn’t a problem. Heck, I go for regular physicals to placate my parents. What more can I do to prove I’m capable of running my own life?”
“Nothing in your messages to indicate they’d set a private investigator on you?”
“No, but you can bet I’ll ask questions this evening. Maybe James will know something.”
Laura gave Patrick directions, and they pulled up in the driveway of the house a few minutes later.
“Nice,” Patrick said.
“We were looking at apartments, and the real estate agent suggested we view this one. It has a garden and barbeque area out the back. It’s pretty and private.” Laura unlocked the door and walked inside with Patrick trailing her. “Take yourself on a tour while I grab a few clothes. Oh, do I have time for a quick shower?”
He checked his watch. “Sure. I have two hours before I need to head to Clare to meet with the builders. It’s still early. We can do a quick breakfast before I go to the meeting.”
“I’d love to see the new pub.”
“Okay. Done deal. As soon as we can organize a visit. Get a move on.”
The rest of the morning passed with no strange vehicles following them and no further phone calls from her family. The lull in drama allowed her to worry about Dallas. Relief struck when she found him sitting up in his hospital bed later that day. She scanned his face, relaxing on seeing the familiar happy sparkle in his eyes. She pressed a quick kiss to his lips, taking care not to jostle his plaster covered arm.
“What did the doctors say about your arm? When can you leave?”
A masculine cough behind her had her drawing back.
A swift flush flew to her cheeks making them radiate heat. “I’m sorry. I was so focused on you I didn’t notice you had a visitor.”
“Quinn,” Patrick said, giving her a warning before she turned to meet the third O’Grady brother.
“Hello,” she said, shooting him a wide smile while inside her stomach quaked in rollercoaster swoops, terrified of the probable fallout. “You must be Dallas’s older brother.” He wasn’t quite as tall as Dallas and Patrick, but it was easy to tell he was related since he bore their inky black hair and blue eyes. He regarded her without the ready under-the-surface humor his younger brothers possessed. Dress was another area the brothers differed since Quinn wore a smart gray suit with a crisp white shirt and a gray tie with splashes of blue to match his eyes.
“Laura,” Dallas said, and she obeyed the silent request to move closer. He took her hand with his uninjured one, lacing their fingers together in a blatant act of possessiveness. The set of his jaw was stubborn and determined. “Quinn, this is my girlfriend, Laura Drummond.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Quinn started. “Wait, Drummond?”
