The Mighty Quinns: Liam. Kate Hoffmann
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followed the cop to the door of the holding area. “He’s downstairs at the desk,” the officer said. “You need to sign for your stuff.”
“Thanks.”
Liam saw Conor before he even reached the bottom of the stairs. His big brother stood below, his eyes dark with anger, his arms crossed over his chest. Liam grinned as he hurried down the steps, but he could tell that Conor was in a foul mood.
“Hey, bro,” he said, giving his brother a playful clap on the shoulder. “I knew I could count on you.”
“Don’t say a word,” Conor warned. “The next thing out of your mouth better be an apology or I’ll take you out back and beat the crap out of you.”
“Sorry,” Liam murmured. “I didn’t know who else to call.”
Conor turned on his heel and strode to the door, nodding brusquely to the desk sergeant as he passed. “Thanks, Willie. I owe you.”
When they reached Conor’s car, Liam slipped in the passenger side, watching in silence as his brother pulled out into traffic. “My car is in Charlestown. If you could just drop me—”
“I’m not taking you to get your car. You can do that in the morning.”
“Where are we going?”
“To Da’s place.”
“Good,” Liam said. “I could use a drink.”
“I’m going to have the drink and you’re going to explain why you got me out of bed at one a.m. on a Friday night. Since Riley was born, Olivia and I have averaged about three hours of sleep a night, and when my beeper went off, he woke up and started crying.”
“How is the kid?” Liam asked.
“Probably still awake. He’s either sleeping or eating. And when he isn’t doing one or the other, he cries. Olivia is exhausted.”
The mood in the car remained tense and Liam was glad when they finally reached the pub. Friday night business had always been good in Southie, and the bar was still packed when they walked inside. Two pretty girls sitting at the bar called Liam’s name as he entered and he waved, trying to remember their names. He found himself comparing their rather conspicuous beauty to the subtle attractions of Eleanor Thorpe.
She wasn’t pretty in the traditional sense. She didn’t have pouty lips or sultry eyes or a body designed for a men’s magazine. In truth, she was the exact opposite of the type of woman he was drawn to—a little up-tight, a little goofy. But there was something about her that he found undeniably attractive.
Maybe it was the fact that she’d single-handedly subdued an intruder. She hadn’t cowered in a corner or locked herself in the bathroom, she’d picked up a lamp and hit him over the head. Liam rubbed his wrists, still chafed from the ties. She hadn’t known who he was or what his intent had been. For all she’d known, he could have been a crazed serial killer out to do her harm, but she’d stood up for herself.
Seamus, tending bar, drew two pints of Guinness and set them down in front of his sons as they each took an empty stool at the far end of the bar. “Didn’t expect to see you out tonight, Con.” He turned to Liam, his snow-white hair falling across his forehead. “As for you, I could have used your help behind the bar, boyo. Your brother Brian was the only relief I had and he left an hour ago with a blonde. And where the hell is Sean when I need him?”
“He’s out of town,” Liam said.
Seamus shrugged, then wandered off to talk with another customer.
Conor took a slow sip of his Guinness, then licked his upper lip. “What were you doing in that woman’s apartment?”
“Exactly what I told the police. I was trying to protect her.”
Conor slowly shook his head. “Go back to the beginning.”
“I saw this guy sneak inside her apartment.”
“From the street?”
“No, from the attic of the building across the street.”
“And what were you doing in the—” Conor paused. “Don’t tell me. You were on a case with Sean, weren’t you? You know damn well that he skirts the law every chance he gets. What was this, another one of his divorce cases?”
“Well, as Sean would say, his clients expect a high level of confidentiality. All I can say is that I was watching the apartment. I told the cop I was walking by and he bought the story. As long as you vouch for me, I think I’ll be all right.”
“Did you get a look at the burglar?”
Liam shook his head. “Nah, it was dark and he was wearing a ski mask. He wasn’t very tall. About five-eight or nine, maybe. Not very heavy. And he was kind of clumsy. Not much of a street fighter. I told this all to the cops.”
“You’re not going to tell me what kind of case you and Sean are working on?”
“I think it would be better if you don’t ask. And we haven’t broken any laws—not yet, anyway. I swear.”
Conor rubbed his forehead. “And except for the reason you were on the street, did you tell the police the entire truth?”
“Yeah.”
Conor nodded. “Fine. As long as the woman doesn’t insist on pressing charges, I think you’ll be all right.”
“Eleanor. Ellie Thorpe. She’s really nice. Kind of goofy, but nice.”
Conor’s brow shot up. “What? You had a conversation?”
“Well, there wasn’t much else to do once she tied me up. It took the police forever to arrive.”
This brought a laugh from Conor. “Jeez, Liam. You break into a woman’s house, she ties you up, and you still manage to charm her. Did you get her phone number?”
“No,” Liam replied. He shrugged, then smiled. “But I know where she lives.”
Conor took a long drink of his beer, then slid off the bar stool and grabbed his keys. “You know what this means, don’t you? When a Quinn rescues a woman from harm, he’s pretty much done for. You’re stuck with her now, Li. There’s no going back.”
“You don’t think I believe all that Mighty Quinn garbage, do you?” Liam said. “I did a good deed and that’s the end of it. I’m never going to see her again.”
Liam wasn’t afraid of being vulnerable to love. Hell, he knew better. He’d always been the one to walk away from a relationship when it got too serious. Besides, he wasn’t about to get involved with a probable felon.
“Stay away from her,” Conor warned. “She might just decide to press charges and I only have so much juice with the guys downtown.” He sighed. “By the way, we’re having a little get-together for Riley’s christening. A brunch. Olivia sent you an invitation. Did you get it?”
“Yeah. I thought I’d stop by. Who else will be there?”
“Everyone.”
“Ma, too?”
“Of course,” Conor said. “She is Riley’s grandmother. And Olivia’s parents are coming up from Florida.”
Since Fiona had reappeared in their lives over a year ago, family gatherings had become regularly scheduled events. First, there’d been Keely’s wedding, and after that a birthday celebration for Seamus held at Quinn’s Pub. And last May, Dylan and Meggie’s wedding. And then Christmas at Keely and Rafe’s. And everyone had gathered at the hospital the night Riley was born, a large, noisy family still learning how to be a family.
Even though Liam’s father was gradually making peace with his runaway wife, not all the old scars had healed. Conor had accepted his mother back with no questions asked, as had Dylan and Brian. But Brendan