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He would help her if he could, but he couldn’t promise her a life without nightmares.
“Sorry,” she said in a lowered voice. “I didn’t mean to go on and on. We need to focus on the future, not the past. How do we begin?” She looked more than a little apprehensive.
“We don’t, not yet.”
“But you said...”
“I don’t know you and you don’t know me. Our first step is to get acquainted.”
Now the open book was suspicious.
“That doesn’t mean I want to get you into bed,” he clarified. “Though I imagine nearly every man you’ve ever met has tried.”
“I didn’t say I thought...”
“You didn’t have to.”
She pursed her lips. “I didn’t know mind reading was one of your abilities.”
He started to say, It’s not, but kept that piece of knowledge to himself. True, some thoughts jumped out at him on occasion, but it was damned hard work to go around reading the minds of others. It was also potentially dangerous.
But perhaps it would be a good idea to let her believe he could peek into her head at will. Did she not know she was an open book? Did she not realize that everything she thought was written on her pretty face for the world to see?
“So, there’s not a file on me back at Raintree headquarters?”
He expected her to laugh at the idea of Raintree headquarters and files on independents, but she didn’t. “Not much of one,” she admitted. “I didn’t have an easy time finding any detailed information on you.”
“Good.” Before she left he’d find out what—where and how—she had discovered about him, and make sure no one else could follow in her footsteps. He couldn’t make it impossible for someone gifted to find him—those with special abilities found their way to Cloughban all the time—but if there was any kind of a paper or electronic trail it would have to be eliminated.
She straightened her spine. “So, how do we get to know each other?”
“Among the many jobs you’ve had, have you ever waited tables?”
“Many times. When my band was playing in Wilmington...”
Not that again. “I don’t need to know the details,” he snapped. “You start tonight, princess.” With that, he slid from his seat and stood. He’d spent too much time looking at her. She was starting to get under his skin, and that was the last thing he needed.
She stood, too, more than a little angry. “I’ve had about enough of that. You can call me Echo or Raintree or pain in the ass, but do not call me princess.”
“Why not? Isn’t that what you are, a Raintree princess?”
Echo lifted her chin in obvious defiance. She’d probably deck him if he told her she was cute when she was mad.
“Some might say so, but that’s not who I want to be. I just want... I just want...”
A normal life. A life without pain. Ordinary worries, ordinary dreams. He knew very well what she wanted. “It doesn’t matter what you want, love.”
“Besides, you make princess sound like an insult.”
“Maybe it is,” he admitted.
She took a step closer, angrier, tense. “And another thing—you can stop interrupting me.”
“If you would get to the point in a timely manner, love, I wouldn’t need to.”
She punched him in the chest. “And love is no better than princess. I am not your love. I am not your princess. If you can’t call me Echo or Raintree, don’t call me anything at all. I’ll be happy to answer to hey, you.”
“As you wish. Be back here ready to work in two hours. You’ll need a place to stay. Maeve Quinlan rents out rooms by the week. She should have a vacancy.” He gave her directions, which were quick and easy. The Quinlan house was within walking distance, as was everything in Cloughban.
“How long will I need that room?” Echo asked. “One week? Two?”
One week or even two might be manageable, but he was not optimistic about that timeline. What had Cassidy meant by a long time? To an eleven-year-old, a month might be a very long time.
“I haven’t any idea.” He still wanted to send Echo Raintree on her way, but why fight it?
Like it or not, his daughter was never wrong.
Chapter 4 (#ulink_aadcc27e-0861-5c4e-b3c0-83e6f7fcb432)
The rain stopped as suddenly as it had started, leaving Cloughban looking freshly washed, sparkling and clean. Echo drove the short distance to the bed-and-breakfast. It would be an easy enough walk—she could see the two-story house from the pub—but she needed to park her rental car. Duncan had told her there was parking available behind the boardinghouse.
It would cost her a small fortune to keep the rental car indefinitely, but what choice did she have? It would be a day’s trip to return the car to the Dublin airport and then get back to town. She didn’t know anyone in Cloughban well enough to ask for that kind of favor.
She would’ve been better off to fly into the Shannon airport, but it wasn’t as if she’d taken her time and planned this trip well. The flight to Dublin had been the next with an available seat, and she’d taken it.
Besides, she didn’t want to be stuck without an easy and immediate mode of transport. If things didn’t go well she could leave at any time.
Always have an escape route...
Echo carried her bag up the narrow stairway, half listening to her new landlady, who led the way with a sway of her hips and a bright smile she occasionally cast over her shoulder. Maeve Quinlan was fiftyish, tall and pleasant looking with salt-and-pepper hair and a sturdy build. She wore a calf-length skirt in a girlish pink print, a matching blouse and a white cardigan. She could easily pass for a 1950s housewife.
“Breakfast is at seven.” Mrs. Quinlan’s voice was as bright as her smile. As soon as she’d confirmed Duncan had sent Echo, she’d been much more welcoming. “If you’re not an early riser there are always pastries in the kitchen, and you’re welcome to help yourself. I make a fabulous lemon blueberry scone.” The word fabulous was accompanied by an expressive wave of her hand. “Lunch is on your own, but you’re welcome to join us for dinner if you’d like. Just be sure to let me know if you’ll be here so I can set a place at the table for you. There’s nothing sadder than an empty place at the table, is there?” She walked briskly down the second-floor hallway to open the second door on the right. “Here you are, love. I hope the room suits you.”
The easy way love rolled off the lady’s tongue made Echo cringe. Duncan’s love had probably been meant in much the same way. These people used love the way her Southern aunts used honey. Anyone and everyone was called honey. Great. She’d made a fool out of herself insisting that he not call her love.
Well, it wasn’t the first time she’d been a fool. Wouldn’t be the last.
“It’s lovely, Mrs. Quinlan.”
Again, that expressive wave of a hand. “Call me Maeve, pet.” Before Echo could respond she continued with, “The bath is at the end of the hall. You’ll be sharing with Maisy Payne, who’s staying in the room next door. She’s our new librarian. Not that the Cloughban library is much to brag about, but we do have one. Maisy is a lovely girl. I’m sure the two of you will be the best of friends.”
Echo refrained from telling her new landlady that she didn’t need or want any new friends. She needed to get what she’d come here for and then get the hell out of town.
Maeve left her new tenant on her own, in her rented room. A small but nicely furnished room that, with any luck, would be home for a short while. Echo stared longingly at the narrow bed that was pushed up against one wall. She dropped her duffel on the floor and plopped down on the bed. Not too hard, not too soft. Just right.
Echo sat there for a moment, bouncing gently. It had been a long day. The longest. She’d slept on the plane, but that had been hours ago! With that in mind she laid back, stretching out. She might as well rest while she could. The time difference was going to be a bear, and the vision of the fire had drained her.
She was here and she’d found Duncan. It was too early to know if she’d get what she needed from him or not, but there was at least a chance. That was more than she’d had yesterday.
The bed was narrow and short, but it was also really comfortable. She’d just close her eyes for a few minutes...she’d take a moment and unwind a bit...
A banging on the door woke her. Disoriented, she noted a couple of things at once. She’d been sleeping hard. It was dark outside and it was completely dark in her new room, until the door flew open and someone switched on the overhead light. Echo’s instinct was not to be afraid. Instead, she was annoyed. Who would do such a terrible thing? The light was far too bright. She pulled the pillow over her face to block it.
Someone snatched that pillow away.
“If you’re going to work for me, it’s best not to be two hours late for your first shift.”
Duncan. Of course.
“I fell asleep.”
“Thank you for informing me,” he said dryly. “I never would’ve figured that out for myself.”
“There’s no need to be sarcastic.” She opened one eye. Too bad he was such a jerk. He was more than a little cute. No, not cute. Handsome. Sexy. Brooding, like her own Rochester.
Yeah, because every modern woman needed a boyfriend who kept a crazy wife in the attic...
“Can’t I start tomorrow?” She yawned and began to stretch again. Then she squealed as Duncan picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. The world spun. How dare he!
“No, you may not,” he said as he carried her from the room, slamming the door shut with one foot. “This is exactly what I was talking about when I said you were spoiled and undisciplined. You will be on time. You will do as you are told. You will not be late again!”
“Great. You’re one of those bosses.”
“One who expects his employees to actually do their jobs? Yes!”
She bounced hard as he started down the stairs. Hanging on to the back of his shirt for support was necessary.
“Wait. Wait!” she called as she tightened her grip.
He stopped in the middle of the staircase, and Echo took a deep breath. “Let me wash my face and brush my teeth, maybe throw on a clean shirt.” And pee. Not that she would share that detail with him.
Duncan turned and carried her up the stairs. He moved more slowly this time, giving her a moment to appreciate the solidness of the body against hers and the tempting wave of his hair. He had a nice neck, she admitted to herself, a strong jaw and broad shoulders. He carried her as if she weighed nothing. It would be beyond foolish to get involved with him, and since he obviously didn’t like her much that wasn’t a concern. That didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate his finer attributes. Not that she would ever admit aloud that he had any.
He placed her on her feet near the door to her room. “You have five minutes.”
“Five?” The expression on his face stopped her from saying more. “Fine, five minutes.”
And then he tossed a black shirt that had been slung over his shoulder—much as she had been—in her direction. “Wear this.”
* * *
If she had any objections to wearing the tight black T-shirt with the pub logo on it, she hadn’t said a word. He’d realized it was a bit too small when he’d chosen it from the stack of shirts in the storeroom, but it did show off Echo Raintree’s fine figure to its best advantage.
The customers didn’t complain, either. Every eye of every male in the place, young and old, married and not, followed her as she served drinks and food and brilliant smiles. Complete with dimples.
Yes, she’d done this before. He might think her a fine employee if she hadn’t slept through the first two hours of her first shift.
He could’ve cut her some slack, he supposed. She’d had a long day. He’d been to the States a time or two himself and he knew very well that the trip was a challenging one. He could empathize. To a point.
If he cut her some slack, they’d never be finished. And he wanted to be finished. He wanted to get this done and send her on her way. If she got too curious, as his last student had, she’d have to go. Finished or not, on the verge of an ugly death for a pretty young woman or not, it was a risk he could not, would not, take.
The crowd began to clear out half an hour before closing time. It was a weeknight, after all. Echo cleaned tables without being told. She handled a bar towel like someone who’d done it before. The way she moved was oddly tempting. Graceful but strong. She flowed from one table to another, easy and, at least for now, unworried. Yes, tempting.
He could not afford to be tempted, not by her. If he was ever stupid enough to get involved with a woman again, if he allowed his body’s demands to override his brain, it would not be someone with the last name Raintree.
One thing he could say for her. Princess or not, she did not shy away from work.
As the last customer left, Echo walked to the counter and took a stool there, directly across from Rye.
“If I was wearing a shirt this tight at home I’d get a ton of tips. Here? Nada.”
“We don’t tip.”
She pursed her lips in what he assumed was mock displeasure before saying, “So I noticed. I think tipping is a practice that should be instituted ASAP. Barmaids across Ireland would be ecstatic.”
In spite of himself, he smiled. Her complaint was lighthearted, and had been delivered with her own smile.
He didn’t allow his smile to last. She was not his friend; she was not going to stay in Cloughban.
“Be here tomorrow at eleven.”
“I’ll be working a split shift?”
He nodded.
“It’s not like you do any business at lunchtime,” she argued. “You don’t need me.”
He glared at her, just a little.
“Fine, fine, I’ll be here by eleven.”
If tonight’s reception to her was any indication, his noontime business was about to pick up. Not that he would tell her that. She might take it as a compliment. As they got to know her, his customers seemed to forget that her last name was Raintree. Most of them, anyway.
“Don’t be late.”
She headed to the back of the room to grab her sweater. “Never again, boss, I swear. I’ll be here early. I’ll stay all day. Whatever it takes to convince you that I am not spoiled and undisciplined, I’ll do it.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it. Good night, Raintree.”
“Night, boss.” She exited by the front door, and when she was gone the pub felt suddenly and completely empty.
* * *
Even satellite phones were not entirely secure, but all things considered...there was no other choice.
“There’s a Raintree in Cloughban.”
After a short pause, the man on the other end of the line asked, “Which one?”
