Protecting His Secret Son
Author
Laura Scott
Reads
17.1K
Chapters
22
ONE
Private investigator Mike Callahan scrunched down in the driver’s seat of his black SUV and watched the front door of Duncan O’Hare’s house through the open driver’s-side window. He was parked in the driveway next door, knowing the young couple was out of town for the weekend. Duncan O’Hare was a Milwaukee cop, but Mike didn’t believe the guy was dedicated to upholding the law.
Quite the opposite.
However, witnessing a meeting between Duncan O’Hare and Lane Walters, believed leader of the Dark Knights, two days ago outside an apartment building owned by Walters, wasn’t enough. He needed proof to back up his suspicions. Mike had tailed Duncan, but the cop had managed to evade him.
On a mission to solve his father Max Callahan’s murder, Mike wasn’t about to let anything stand in his way.
His father had been shot in the back while visiting the crime scene of an officer-involved shooting. Four years later and the crime remained unsolved.
The key was buried deep within the Dark Knights, a civilian vigilante group known for meting out its own brand of justice against alleged criminals. There were several unsolved murders that were believed to be the work of the Dark Knights. As the police chief, his father had vowed to bring the Dark Knights down. Yet Mike knew the group had connections within the police force—possibly to Duncan O’Hare and Duncan’s father, Ian O’Hare, who had conveniently taken Mike’s father’s place as chief of police after his death.
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.”
“Does your husband know you’re here?” The blunt question popped out of his mouth before he could stop it.
“I’m not married, and my personal life is none of your business.” She crossed her arms over her chest in a familiar, defensive move. “Where are we going?”
Shocked to hear she wasn’t married, he didn’t answer right away. His thoughts whirled and he wanted to know more about what Shayla had been doing over the past four years.
Mike forced himself to stay on task, keeping his eyes on the highway as he inwardly debated where to take Shayla and her son. No way would she agree to go to his place, and that seemed too personal anyway, so a motel was their best bet.
“I’m going to put you and Brodie up in a motel for the night.” He took the exit ramp that would take him to the American Lodge Motel. The place was owned by a former firefighter and friend of his brother Mitch’s. Their entire law enforcement family had used the motel as a safe haven while on the run from bad guys so often that they’d joked about renaming it the Callahan Lodge.
Now it was his turn to use it as a place to hide Shayla and her son. And he finally understood a little of what his brothers and his sister had gone through when they’d been in danger.
“Okay,” she agreed. “Thank you.”
The fact that she didn’t argue was concerning. He couldn’t help but wonder if she was keeping information from him.
“Shay, I need you to be honest with me. Is there anyone who wants to hurt you or the boy? Are you running from his father?”
“What?” Her eyes widened in horror. “No! Of course not.”
“Then what’s going on?”
“I don’t know!” The denial was spit out through clenched teeth.
“Is this related to Duncan?” he pressed. “It’s hard to understand why he wouldn’t have met with you, considering your dad’s upcoming surgery.”
“He’s a cop. I’m sure he had a good reason.”
Her continued support of her brother grated on his nerves. He knew Duncan was up to his eyeballs in the Dark Knights’ illegal activities. And that involvement must have put Shayla in harm’s way.
As much as he wanted to find out the truth about his father’s murder, keeping Shayla and her son safe had to be his top priority.
Shayla twisted her hands in her lap, hoping Mike wouldn’t notice how badly she was trembling.
Of all the men to come to her and Brodie’s rescue, why did it have to be Michael Callahan?
Seeing him so unexpectedly after four years had sent her into an emotional tailspin. In some ways he looked the same—his dark hair worn long and shaggy, muscular build and brilliant green eyes. Dressed in black from head to toe had made him appear sinister at first, until he’d rushed to her rescue, his fear and worry for her and Brodie clear in his facial expression and tone.
She hadn’t expected to see him again, although after visiting her father, noting his pale face and weakness while lying in his hospital bed, she’d decided to get in touch with Mike while she was in town. In fact, she was surprised he hadn’t asked her a whole bucketful of personal questions.
Especially about Brodie.
Memories of the past, echoes of what might have been, overwhelmed her with sorrow and regret.
The man she’d fallen in love with and had agreed to marry, had changed after his father’s murder. Mike had instantly become obsessed with uncovering the truth and had irrationally chosen to believe her father and brother were involved.
Ridiculous allegations had caused a terrible argument to erupt between them. Their breakup had been razor-sharp and deeply painful.
When she’d tried to call Mike several months later, he’d refused to talk to her unless she admitted her father and brother were guilty. When she’d refused, Mike had rudely told her they had nothing more to discuss.
So she’d let it go.
Yet, as time had worn on, she’d known she couldn’t hide the truth forever. Her family knew and it was time for Mike to know, as well.
Tonight, she inwardly promised. She’d tell him tonight.
Mike drove up to a white two-story building called the American Lodge Motel. “Stay here,” he said curtly. “I’ll be right back.”
Tempted to snap back, she bit her lip, knowing she should be grateful for Mike’s timely rescue and ongoing support. After hearing the sharp report of gunfire and fearing for her life and Brodie’s, the last thing she wanted to do was to spend the night at Duncan’s.
The shooter had come to Duncan’s house. Why? A shot meant for him? Not logical, since her fair hair was the opposite of his dark brown.
And where was Duncan? What was going on?
Her brother was a cop and she knew that often meant being called in to work after hours. But why wasn’t he taking her calls? Why were they going straight to voice mail?
Questions only Duncan could answer.
She also couldn’t figure out why Mike had been on the scene of the shooting so quickly. Was it possible he’d actually bought the house next to her brother’s? No, that seemed highly unlikely. Four years ago, Mike had made his feelings for her brother crystal clear and she had no reason to doubt that anything had changed over time.
But she had seen Mike going down the driveway into the street in an attempt to hit the car speeding away.
She shot a guilty glance back at Brodie, whose brown eyes were drooping sleepily despite the early-evening hour of seven thirty. No doubt, the poor kid was tuckered out between visiting his grandfather in the hospital and the most recent scare.
The driver’s door opened, startling her. She put a hand over her galloping heart for a moment, then went back to twisting her fingers in her lap. “Find a room?”
“Two connecting rooms,” he corrected. He started the car, made a sweep of the small parking lot and pulled up in front of room number nine. “We have nine and ten.”
“We?” She hated the betraying squeak of alarm in her voice. “Why would you stay here, too?”
“Because you and the kid are both in danger, or has that fact not sunk in yet?”
She bit back a terse retort, unwilling to argue with him in front of Brodie. Yes, she knew she was in danger, but she didn’t understand why.
She battled the surge of panic. She and Brodie were safe now, and she could handle Mike. He was just a man she’d once loved, but that was before he’d accused her father and brother of being dirty cops.
Pushing open her door, she slid out and then opened the back door to reach Brodie.
“Mommy?” His chubby fists rubbed his eyes. “Where are we?”
“We’re staying overnight in a motel. Doesn’t that sound like fun?” She unbuckled the straps holding him in and lifted him out of the seat with a muffled groan. Her son was big for his age, growing out of his clothes faster than she could buy them.
“Can we go swimming?” Brodie asked.
“I don’t think so. But there’s probably a kid’s channel on the television.” She set him on his feet. He was quick and prone to rushing off, so she firmly grasped his hand and then eyed Mike. “Which room is mine?”
“Number ten.” Mike handed over a plastic keycard. “But I’d like you to keep the connecting door between our rooms open, in case things go south.”
That was the last thing she wanted to do.
Silently, she took the key and slid it into the door, unlocking it. She stepped over the threshold and felt along the wall for a light switch.
A pale yellow glow filled the room, revealing two double-size beds, a small table and two wooden chairs. A waist-high dresser ran the length of the room with a medium-size television sitting on top of it. The space was larger than she’d anticipated and nicer, as if it had been recently updated. She urged Brodie inside, frowning when Mike followed.
“Hey,” she protested when he crossed over to unlock her side of the connecting doors.
“I need to be able to reach you if there’s any trouble,” he repeated without showing signs of impatience. “I promise not to infringe on your privacy.”
Once again, he was probably right, but his tendency to issue orders—as if he were a drill sergeant and she were a lowly soldier—didn’t sit well. She’d forgotten how bossy he could be.
Except four years ago he hadn’t been as prone to barking orders.
He’d been sweet, kind and caring...devastated after the fight with his father over turning down a position with the Milwaukee Police Department after graduating from the academy.
“What else are you not telling me?” he asked, breaking into her thoughts.
“Nothing!” She hoped her cheeks weren’t flush with guilt. “I don’t know where Duncan is or where he normally hangs out.” She turned on the television to help keep Brodie occupied. “Why don’t you tell me why you were so Johnny-on-the-spot, parked next to Duncan’s house in the first place?”
There was a brief flash of guilt in his green eyes but his expression remained impassive. “I was waiting for your brother.”
The blunt answer surprised her. “Why?”
“To confront him about his illegal activities.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Same song and dance, Mike? Aren’t you tired of it yet?” She waved a hand and turned away. “Never mind. As you so rudely put it the last time we spoke, there’s nothing more to discuss.”
“Shayla, someone tried to shoot you outside Duncan’s house. Doesn’t that tell you something? Your brother’s in trouble.”
“The shot was aimed at me, not my brother. And did it ever occur to you that Duncan could be working undercover? That he’s in danger because of a case he’s working on? That maybe the attempt on me was a way to seek revenge against him?”
Mike didn’t say anything for a long moment. “Anything is possible.” The way he said it didn’t give her the impression he really believed it. He moved toward the door. “I need to make a few calls, but holler if you need something, okay?”
Ironically, despite her irritation over the connecting doors between their rooms, she suddenly didn’t want him to leave. “Mike?”
“Yeah?” He paused and looked at her over his shoulder.
The words were right there on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t do it. Not yet. Not like this. She needed to wait until her son was asleep before uttering a deep, emotional confession. Her stomach rolled and she forced a smile. “Never mind. Good night.”
He stared at her for a long moment before giving her a nod. “Good night.”
He left, softly closing the door behind him. Her knees were shaky and weak, so she sank onto the edge of the bed and buried her face in her hands.
How was it possible he didn’t know, or suspect, that Brodie was his son?
