For Love & Bourbon (15 page)

With her free hand she wiped away a tear that fell, not ashamed of it. Somehow she knew he didn’t judge her weakness, not in the face of all she had just learned. “All right. I’ll keep your secret.”

“Great.” He started to rise, only to have her pull him back down. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but the fire was back in them. It relieved him to see her smile, warm and a little bit wicked.

“I should hate you right now, but somehow I don’t,” she mused. “How do you do that? Convince me you’re not the bad guy as you investigate my family for funding terrorism?”

“I’m just out for the truth.”

She snorted. “Please. I’m sure there’s something in it for you, too. You probably take home a handsome paycheck and drive a nice car and live in some big, fancy apartment…”

He only smiled. “I have my motivations, yes. And they don’t involve things money can buy.” He helped her to her feet, then eased away from her. He’d been getting entirely too comfortable in her presence. “I’ll be in touch.”

She pondered his words, the mystery of him growing ever bigger. “I’ll see you around, Slick.”

She headed back to the distillery, the information she’d learned tucked safely at the back of her mind.

S
tanding beside the window in the reception area of the Lucky Fox office, Cooper watched the scene outside unfold with mild curiosity. The wind was up, freeing burgundy and orange leaves from the trees. They tumbled to the sidewalks, only to cartwheel across the concrete at the whim of the breeze.

The workday was over, meaning what passed as rush hour in Fox Hills was busy crowding the streets. A scattering of cars cruised slowly down Main Street, those inside waving hello to neighbors and friends as they went. Locals and tourists alike strolled down the sidewalks, dashing into the market for the night’s dinner or the bar for a Happy Hour drink. Some had young children, bundled up in scarves and coats. He couldn’t hear them, but he imagined their laughter and carefree banter as the families joined together after a long day of school and work.

In D.C., he’d spent very little time observing those around him. The city moved too fast, just like he did when he was in it. Everything was about the destination and not the journey to get there. His job demanded his full attention, leaving little time for enjoying anything else.

But here, in this pleasant little Southern town, he found himself taking time to breathe. Time to really stop and think.

And all that thinking was getting him in trouble.

Ava remained a distraction any smart man in his position would try his damnedest to forget. He was getting too close. Letting himself step into her life as more than just a federal agent. They were becoming something of friends. Confiding in each other, sharing moments of brutal honesty. More so on her part than his, as his walls remained as fortified as ever. But knowing she trusted him enough to show that vulnerability…it was humbling.

Humbling and career-ending, if he wasn’t careful.

He couldn’t stay away from her, he knew that much. He was too invested, both in bringing her father to justice and in giving her the truth. She deserved to have proof of what her father was capable of, no matter how painful it was.

Though she was still holding on to the hope that her father was innocent. He’d given her that to help ease the burden, but in time she would see the reality of it. The pieces were coming together. They just needed a bit more time.

Behind him, the agents were slipping into their coats, ready to call it a day. Marco came up and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, isn’t that old man Joe?” Marco asked, pointing out the window. Across the street, Joe Brannon walked cheerfully into the pharmacy, exchanging a cheek kiss with a pretty, petite blonde who was just leaving the building.

Cooper made the decision instantly. “Let’s go talk to him.”

“Right on.” Marco clapped his hands and was halfway out the door before Cooper could even grab his coat.

They dodged a few cars on their way to the pharmacy, earning curious looks from the locals. Cooper’s eyes swept the room as they entered. He spotted Joe chatting up the white-cloaked pharmacist at the wide wooden counter.

The pharmacist saw them first, his smile fading. He was an aged, rounded man with salt and pepper hair and warm brown eyes that went from polite to disapproving in an instant.

Cooper slipped on a grin anyway, keeping the mood light. “Joe Brannon?”

Joe twisted around to face them, took stock. He nodded. “Aye. Who’s askin’?”

“Special Agent Cooper Lawson with the Federal Bureau of Investigation,” Cooper began, flashing his badge. He tilted his head to Marco. “This is Special Agent Marco D’Amico. We’re in town investigating your son.”

Joe puffed up his chest, though his cheery smile remained. “I was wonderin’ when ye would be comin’ to see me.” He glanced over his shoulder at the pharmacist, chuckled. “Can ye believe this nonsense, Gary? Ty’s no tax cheat. Typical waste of tax dollars if ye ask me.”

The pharmacist crossed his arms, eyed Cooper and Marco. “Ty Brannon is an upstanding member of our community, fellas. I know it don’t seem like much, but we in Fox Hills love our whiskey, and we love our Lucky Fox. You come after one of ours, expect a bit of resistance.” He paused, his teeth flashing in a bold smile. “Polite, of course.”

Cooper bowed his head, acknowledging the warning for what it was—protective, instinctive. And in the man’s eyes, necessary.

“Understood.” Cooper motioned for the exit. “Mind if we talk in private, Joe?”

“Whatever ye got to say, ye can say in front of everybody,” Joe replied easily, cocking his chin. The movement was so very like his granddaughter that Cooper nearly laughed.

“This is really something better discussed in private.”

The pharmacist nodded. “It’s okay, Joe. Go on ahead. I’ll just get your prescription filled.”

Joe’s mouth twisted in an irritated pout, but he slapped the counter and started for the door. “All right, boyo. This way.”

Cooper and Marco followed him out of the pharmacy and to a wooden bench outside the building. Joe took a seat and dug into his pocket for a pack of chew. He popped a chunk into his mouth.

“I’m all yers.”

Amused despite everything, Cooper knelt down to level his gaze with the old man’s. “Are you in contact with the Brannons in Ireland? Specifically your nephew, Ned Brannon?”

Joe turned his head and spit, a scowl tightening his face. “No. Dead to me, they are.”

“When was the last time you spoke with Ned?”

“The lad was nothin’ but a child when I left Ireland. Ain’t spoken with him since.”

Cooper shifted his weight, exchanged a brief look with Marco. When he turned back to Joe, he decided to up the ante with a loaded question. “Do you know what the Irish Republican Army is?”

He wasn’t disappointed by Joe’s reaction. The man flushed a violent shade of red, fire in his eyes. “Ain’t no Irishman hasn’t heard of the IRA, boyo. Let’s get this clear, I left all that shite behind the second I left that godforsaken country. I’m an American, plain and simple. I have no allegiance to the IRA or to Ireland.”

“I figured as much,” Cooper conceded, rising to his feet. He adjusted his coat against the chilly wind. “I think we got what we needed. Have a good night, Mr. Brannon.”

He and Marco headed back across the street, leaving Joe stewing on the bench. Cooper imagined the old man spitting his tobacco, cursing their names.

“You think he’s telling the truth?” Marco asked the second they were back inside the office, away from prying eyes and ears.

Cooper nodded. “Yeah. I do. From what I know about the guy, he’s dead serious about this feud. It wouldn’t surprise me if he has no idea what his son is up to. If he did, he’d probably blow a gasket.”

Marco laughed. “I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that guy’s temper. That small glimpse of it was good enough for me.”

Cooper glanced out the window, saw Joe was gone. “Tempers run hot in that family, that’s for sure.”

“All except Ty, surprisingly,” Marco mused. “The one who actually has a reason to flip out on us is the most calm. The most controlled.”

Cooper shut the blinds, faced his partner. “He’s leading a double life. Of course he’s controlled. It comes with the territory.”

AVA ACCEPTED
the glass of bourbon from Brandy, catching her friend’s eyes across the bar. “Thank you again for taking care of Adam last night. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Brandy mustered up a smile. Though her heart ached, she refused to let it show. “It was nothing, honey. I was happy to help.”

“I don’t know what gets into him sometimes.” Ava took a generous sip of her drink. Even the premiere flavor of their Distiller’s Choice couldn’t quell her urge to scream. She rubbed her forehead, feeling a headache coming on. “With everything else going on, the last thing I need to worry about is Adam getting into trouble.”

“He’s gonna be just fine, Ava,” Brandy assured her. “He means well. The stress just gets to him.”

Ava cast a knowing look at her friend. “I forgot. I’m talking to my brother’s serial apologist.”

Brandy’s face fell. She wiped off the counter, avoiding Ava’s eyes. Guilt swam over Ava as she took her friend’s hand in hers. “I’m sorry, that was rude. You know how I get when I’m ornery.”

“What, am I your apologist, too?” Brandy asked, though there was a hint of humor in her voice.

Ava grinned, relieved her friend was so forgiving. God knew she didn’t deserve it half the time. “Hey, if Adam gets a cheerleader, I sure as hell want one.”

“You certainly need one these days, sweetheart,” Beau said as he sidled up beside her. He nodded to Brandy, who pulled a Bud Light from the cooler and popped off the top for him. Before he raised the bottle to his lips, he grinned. “Word is those agents were talkin’ to old man Joe a couple hours ago. According to Gary, they meant business. And when ol’ Joe came back from his little talk with them, he was spittin’ mad. Whatever they said ticked him off bad.”

Though his words had a heavy ball of dread dropping in her stomach, Ava only lifted a brow and returned his sickly sweet smile. “What I heard is those agents kicked you out on your ass when you went nosing around the office. Tell me, Beau, how does it feel to be knocked down a peg?”

A flush of rage and embarrassment colored his cheeks. He took a long pull from his beer before acknowledging her. “Sounds to me like you’re gettin’ real friendly with those boys, Ava. Makes a man mighty suspicious when it’s
your
family they’re investigating.”

“What should I do? Tear up the warrant in their faces and tell them to fuck off?” Ava remarked with a cynical laugh. “That’d go over real well.”

“They’ve been here for a week. If it’s just tax fraud they’re lookin’ for, why’s it takin’ so long?” Beau asked, his voice carrying over the music belting out of the jukebox. Several people glanced over, eager to hear her answer to the question.

Ava struggled to maintain her carefree grin, noticing she had an audience. The foreman from the distillery, a portly man named Ed Barrow, edged closer to her. When he caught her attention, he tipped his ball cap politely.

“We were all just fixin’ to ask you that question, Ava. What’s going on?” Ed clutched his beer tighter in his hand, his face lined with worry. He had known her since she was a child and had never once looked at her the way he was now. With doubt. Distrust. The cluster of employees hovering behind him looked just as concerned. Seeing it shot an arrow of sympathy and regret into her heart.