For Love & Bourbon (14 page)

“We never got a reply back, so I assume if it was from Ned, he’s deleted the account or knows we’re on to him.” Cooper tapped his fingertips on the desk, irritated by the thought. “It was a long shot, anyway.”

“
Any idea on who the email could be referring to?
”

“Nope. Guess we won’t find out, either. I figured it was referring to us being here.”

“
It’s possible. I assume Ty Brannon isn’t talking?
”

“Yeah, he lawyered up the first day. The team’s still going through all the paperwork here in the office. We found a box of stuff that dates back twenty years or more, so we’re hoping there’ll be something useful inside.”

“
Good.
” Horvath cleared his throat and fell into a coughing fit, a side effect of thirty years as a smoker. Cooper waited patiently for him to get his breath, picturing the old man in his trademark brown suit, a thin sheen of sweat on his balding head. He’d be digging out a piece of Nicorette gum at that very moment, popping it into his mouth despite how much he hated the stuff. “
Keep searching. And make sure you keep an eye on Brannon.
”

“Will do.” Cooper said goodbye and hung up the phone, tossing it aside on the desk. He looked up as Marco entered.

“Hey, man. You know that box of old paperwork we found under a ton of crap in the back office?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

Marco’s face split in a mile-wide grin. “You gotta come see this.”

Cooper jumped to his feet and followed his partner into the reception area, where the blonde agent named Tracy was busy staring intently at what looked like an old plane ticket.

She handed it to Cooper. “It’s a Delta Airlines ticket to Belfast, dated March 1985. It was stuffed inside this old accounting journal.” Holding up the black leather journal with its yellowing pages, she gave them a smug smile. “I think you owe me one, boys.”

“Damn right we do.” Cooper pored over the ticket, astonished by the find. “We’ll have to cross reference this with Delta’s records, but I’d say this proves Ty Brannon went on a trip to Ireland.”

“And just what do you think he did while he visited?” Marco pressed, wiggling his brows.

Cooper glanced up at his partner, a spark of victory shooting through him. “He joined the IRA.”

AVA STOOD
before the 2006 barrel she and her grandfather had selected, her mind on other things. He removed the bung from the barrel and slipped the copper whiskey thief inside to collect a sample to taste. When he handed her a glencairn filled with the precious liquid and a dash of fresh water to bring out the aromas, he had to whistle to get her attention.

“Ye in there, dearie?” Joe teased.

She blinked, then accepted the glass he offered. “Sorry. Just distracted.”

“Well, today’s no day for distractions. Give her a taste, see what you think.”

Ava smiled and held the bourbon up to the light, noted the rich amber color and approved of its clarity. She let out a breath and closed her eyes before lifting the glass to her nose. Breathing in slowly, she picked up on the oaked vanilla and warm caramel notes first. Taking another breath, she tried again and this time focused on the fruit accents, a subtle cherry with a dash of spiced apple.

Pleased, she lowered it to her lips and savored a small taste of it. As expected, it was honey sweet on the tip of her tongue, dry at the back, with a fiery bite to it that tingled along the sides of her tongue.

She swallowed, then opened her eyes and beamed. “It’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

Joe sipped the bourbon himself, looking equally as thrilled. “Couldn’t agree more. A fine selection for Lucky Joe’s.”

Emotion overtook her as she stared at him, wondering if she dare ask him about what her father had said earlier that morning on the range. Would he have insight into what her father meant when he said she should avoid the Irish side of the family at all costs? Or would he just brush it off, as he did most things he didn’t want to worry about?

Knowing he’d choose the latter had her biting her tongue. It was no easy task, but any mention of Ireland was always a touchy subject with Joe. This would certainly be no different.

She only had one other option. If her hunch was correct, then her father
was
keeping a secret from her, something that likely involved their Irish relatives. If anyone would know the truth, it’d probably be the FBI.

Checking her watch, she saw it was nearly three o’clock. She handed her grandfather back the glass. “I need to run an errand in town. I’ll be back before my four o’clock tour.”

Joe nodded, lifting the empty glass in a toast. “Ye did good, dearie.”

“
We
did good,” she corrected, blowing him a kiss before racing out of the barrel house.

Minutes later, she pulled up in front of the Lucky Fox office. She wasted no time barging up to the door and giving it a fierce knock.

Marco answered, a Bud Light in his hand and a stupidly huge grin on his face. “Hey! What’s up, dollface?”

Ava arched an eyebrow. “First you’re smoking cigars, now you’re drinking? Do you even work or are you just here to use my office as your party house?”

“Both?” Marco answered, looking sheepish. “One sec, ‘kay?”

He eased the door closed and muttered something to the people inside. She heard papers rustling and through the crack in the door saw documents being turned over and covered.

She sighed. “I promise not to snoop around. I just need to talk to you about something. It’s about Ireland.”

The door flew back open and Marco gaped at her. “Come again?”

She frowned. “It’s about Ireland?”

“Oh, boy.” He grabbed her hand and dragged her inside, shutting the door promptly behind her. Within seconds she was in her father’s office, where Cooper was just ending a phone call. His own beer was wet with condensation on her father’s desk.

Cooper glanced up at her, an instinctual smile lighting his face. “Hey, you. Everything okay?”

She only shook her head, easing down into one of the chairs across from him. “I need to ask y’all something. And I need you to be one hundred percent honest with me. Can you do that?”

Cooper sat forward, resting his elbows on the desk. That sincerity was in his eyes again and had her stomach clenching in knots. “I’d never lie to you, Ava. I may not be able to answer all your questions, but I won’t tell you a lie.”

Though it bothered her to feel tears spring into her eyes, she made no effort to wipe them away. “What’s going on with my family in Ireland? My father warned me this morning not to contact them. I need to know why. Are they dangerous?”

She saw the flicker of acknowledgment pass over his face and knew in that instant she’d hit the mark. He glanced up at Marco and the two exchanged a knowing look.

When he faced her again, she found she was holding her breath.

“I gave you my card the other day. Did you look at it?” he asked.

The question caught her off guard. She shook her head, then remembered she’d stuffed it into her coat pocket. She lifted it out, held it up. “No. I still have it, though. Why? Does it matter?”

His face revealed nothing. “Read what it says under my name.”

Feeling her patience wearing thin, she looked at the card and read aloud. “Cooper Lawson, Special Agent. Counter-terrorism Division.” She paused, reading the last two words over a second, then a third time. Her eyes narrowed even as her stomach did a little flip. “I don’t understand.”

“In hindsight, it was pretty careless of me to give you that card before you knew the whole story. Then you might’ve realized that we’re not just here looking into your dad’s taxes.” He managed a dry smile. “I’m a little hurt you didn’t fawn over the card at night, thinking of me. But that’s neither here nor there.”

She grimaced, a spark of heat lighting in her eyes. “What’s really going on, Slick? What has my father gotten himself into?”

Cooper released a slow exhale, resigned that it was time to come clean. “We have reason to believe he’s been funneling money to his cousin, Ned Brannon, who is a known ringleader for the terrorist group, the Irish Republican Army.”

“Also known as the IRA,” Marco supplied, his earlier humor gone. Only pity and a quiet seriousness remained in its place. “Some of the money your father transferred out of the country had unpaid taxes on it, which was what threw up the first red flag. The second came when they passed FATCA, which exposed the identities of all foreign bank account holders. We found out Ty had an account with a Swiss bank, and learned there have been withdrawals taking place for several years from the bank’s location in Dublin, totaling over one million dollars.”

Ava processed the information numbly, unable to make sense of it. Anger bubbled up inside of her, a quick gut reaction in the defense of her father. “This is bullshit. He wouldn’t do that. How could he move all that money around with none of us noticing?”

“You tell us,” Cooper replied, sorry to see the flare of panic and disbelief blending with her fury. “From what we gathered, Ty manages all of the financials for the company and has for many years now. Do you pay attention to the profits and where they go?”

“No,” she admitted, frustrated with herself. “But he’s never mentioned the IRA before and he explicitly told me this morning that he doesn’t know any of the family in Ireland.”

“He’s lying,” Cooper said simply. He nodded to Marco, who disappeared into the reception area for a moment. When he returned, he handed Ava a clear evidence bag with a ticket stub in it.

She read the faded text on the old plane ticket, her heart pounding in her ears. “This doesn’t prove anything,” she managed, thrusting it back at Marco.

“It proves he’s been to Ireland.”

Her hands were shaking as she ran them through her hair. “I don’t believe this. I can’t.”

“It’s a lot to take in.” Cooper watched her carefully, saw the acceptance begin to soften her face. Her eyes were glassy and unseeing as she came to terms with the truth.

“I need to talk to him,” she murmured, already rising to her feet.

Marco caught her, lowered her back down. “Not so fast.”

She frowned up at him. “What? Don’t tell me I’m not allowed to say anything.”

“He didn’t want you to know. I believe he has his reasons for that, and if the warning he gave you this morning is any indication, he’s fearing retaliation from Ned,” Cooper explained. “For your own safety, this conversation cannot leave this room.”

“Retaliation?” Her brows shot up. “What is this, Gangland?”

“The IRA is a dangerous group. The only reason we’re here now is because they claimed credit for a car bombing in Dublin a couple of weeks ago that killed seven innocent people, two of them Americans.”

“Sweet Jesus,” she breathed, covering her mouth with her hand. She closed her eyes, her heart aching at the thought. “There’s no way my father was okay with the slaughter of innocents. I won’t believe that.”

“Maybe not. But his money still financed the operation.”

One of the agents from the other room called for Marco. He ducked out, closing the door behind him.

Cooper leveled his gaze with hers and attempted a smile. Though he didn’t believe what he was about to say, he knew it would comfort her. “Look, I know this all sounds scary, but here’s the thing—when we spoke to your dad, he claimed he had no idea the money was being withdrawn from the account in Dublin. It’s entirely possible he’s innocent and Ned simply found a way to hack into his account and steal the funds. If Ty didn’t pay much attention to the account, he might have never noticed. And when he visited Belfast, it’s possible he went to meet the family but it doesn’t concretely prove anything more than that.”

“He could be innocent,” she repeated, a shimmer of hope and relief washing over her. “Yes, that’s probably all this is. A misunderstanding.”

“And if it is, then we’ll find out.” He stood up and knelt beside her chair, taking her hand in his. She stared into his eyes, letting the calm she saw there soothe the worst of her worries. “For now, I need you to keep all of this to yourself. If anyone asks, you don’t know anything new. And I promise you, the second I find out more you will be the first to know.”