Laura Scott - Protecting His Secret Son

The night of his father’s funeral, Mike had overheard a conversation between Ian and Duncan O’Hare about how much they secretly admired the Dark Knights. Mike’s theory was that his father had learned about their connection to the vigilantes and had been murdered because of it. Mike wanted them arrested and held accountable for the role they’d played in his father’s death. Staking out Duncan’s house tonight had been a recent attempt to confront the cop about his meeting with Walters.

Duncan’s front door unexpectedly opened and a pretty blonde stepped outside, holding the hand of a small boy who, in Mike’s estimation, was around four or five years old. In the balmy May evening, there was plenty of light in the sky to see them clearly. The woman was wearing jeans and a pink hoodie with a white T-shirt underneath. He gasped and abruptly straightened as he recognized her.

Shayla O’Hare. Duncan’s younger sister and Mike’s former fiancée. He hadn’t seen Shayla in four years, since their heated argument and breakup over her family’s complicity in his father’s murder. The child was a surprise. Since she hadn’t had any children while they were together, Mike assumed the boy was a stepson or an adopted son. He ignored the shaft of pain to his heart at the thought of her being married to another man. She paused near the Jeep and leaned over to talk to the boy.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a dark sports car with tinted windows rolling down the street toward the O’Hare house. A tingling sense of danger had him tugging his gun from his shoulder holster.

The low-slung car slowed and he watched in horror as the passenger’s-side window silently slid down, revealing the barrel of a gun. From what he could tell, the weapon was pointed directly at Shayla.

“Get down!” he shouted as he instinctively fired at the car in an attempt to save Shayla and the boy. The gunshot was loud, hitting the frame of the car with a metallic thud. Shayla screamed and he hoped and prayed she hadn’t been hurt. He fired again, then shifted the gun to his left hand so he could push the start button. The SUV’s engine roared to life.

The sports car accelerated and Mike yanked the gearshift into Drive. He stomped on the gas, gunning down the driveway toward the sports car. He attempted to ram his larger SUV into the small vehicle to halt its escape, but only clipped the back fender. The sports car fishtailed for a moment, then sped off.

He considered following it, but knowing that Shayla and a young boy were in danger had him twisting the wheel to pull in behind the Jeep. He hastily shut down the engine and jumped out, pausing for a moment to holster the gun.

“Shay? It’s Mike Callahan. Are you and the boy all right?”

“Mike?” Her voice was faint and he approached cautiously, unwilling to scare them. “What’s going on?”

Shayla and the child were huddled together behind the Jeep, smartly using the bulky frame as cover. The boy was crying, his faced pressed against Shayla.

“Are either of you hurt?” he asked, dropping down on one knee. “He’s not crying because he’s hit, is he?”

“N-no, we’re fine. Just scared.” Her pale, frightened face belied her words. “Brodie, it’s okay. We’re safe now. You don’t have to be afraid.”

The little boy’s sobs faded and he turned his tear-streaked face to look at Mike. “Is he a good guy, Mommy?”

Mike did his best not to flinch at hearing the word mommy . Shayla had broken his heart four years ago; he should be over their breakup by now.

“I—um, yes. He’s a good guy.” Her voice sounded thick as if she were on the verge of tears, as well.

He couldn’t blame her. That had been a seriously close call. He wasn’t surprised someone had come to Duncan O’Hare’s house with a gun, although he didn’t understand why Shayla and her son would be a target. “Come on, we need to get you both out of here before they decide to return.”

“They who?” she asked. “I heard gunfire and caught a glimpse of the sports car driving away, but who was behind the wheel?”

“I don’t know.” He stared at her, amazed at how she was still so heart-wrenchingly beautiful. “I was hoping you could tell me.”

She dropped her gaze and hugged the boy close. “I have no idea. I’ve only been back in Milwaukee for a couple of days.”

Ignoring the urge to dredge up the past, he glanced at the Jeep. It must have belonged to her because Duncan drove a white pickup. “Let’s go. We’ll take my car.”

“Wait.” Shayla frowned. “Shouldn’t we call the police?”

“My first priority is to get you and Brodie somewhere safe. We’ll work out the rest later.”

“O-okay.” Shayla still looked a bit rattled but slowly rose to her feet. Brodie clung to her, so she hauled him up and into her arms. The kid was husky, no doubt about it. Smaller than Mike’s seven-year-old niece, Abby, but not by much. “Will you get the child safety seat out of the Jeep?”

“Sure.” He wrenched open the door and, thanks to practice with his abundance of nieces and nephews, expertly unlatched the seat and carried it to his SUV.

Five minutes later they were on the road, putting distance between them and the scene of the crime. If he hadn’t been there, watching and waiting for Duncan to show... He shuddered. It was too easy to imagine the worst.

The attempt to kill Shayla and her son had to be related to Duncan’s illegal activities. Unless there was something going on in Shayla’s life that had placed her in danger.

“What brings you back to Milwaukee?” he asked, breaking the long silence.

Shayla didn’t answer for a moment, glancing surreptitiously over her shoulder at the child tucked into the back seat. “I came to visit my father. He’s in the hospital. In fact, that’s where I was headed just now.”

He inwardly winced. As much as he held her father and brother responsible for his father’s death, he felt bad for what she was going through. “Is he going to be okay?”

She bit her lip and shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “He needs open-heart surgery. And you can stop pretending you care about my father’s health. We both know that’s a lie.”

The bitterness in her tone reminded him of their last, horrible argument a few months after their breakup. Shayla had reached out to him, but he’d shut her down, unwilling to let go of his beliefs about her family’s guilt. She’d accused him of being obsessed, and maybe he was.

He held his tongue, realizing there was no point in antagonizing her.

“Where is your brother? At the hospital? Or back at the house?”

She hesitated. “I’m not sure. He was supposed to meet me at the house for dinner, but didn’t.”

“Call him,” he suggested.

“I did. Twice. It goes straight to voice mail.”

“What time was he supposed to meet you?”

“We spoke to the doctor about Dad’s surgery at eleven a.m. We both left the hospital then and were supposed to meet up again at three p.m., but Duncan never showed. I thought for sure he’d meet me at the house at five thirty for dinner, as planned. But he didn’t do that, either.”

Had Duncan realized Mike was following him? Mike glanced at the clock on his dashboard, noting it was almost seven o’clock. Seven hours wasn’t a long time to be missing, but considering what he knew about Duncan’s recent activities, he figured the guy may have got himself into trouble. Either that, or he was hiding from Mike.

“Do you know where Duncan likes to hang out?” he asked, hoping for a kernel of information he could use to find the guy.

“How would I know something like that?” Her voice shimmered with exasperation. “I live in Nashville, Tennessee. I’m only here because of Dad’s hospitalization and upcoming surgery.”