Sitting inside my car, eyes glued to the monitor Fiona had set up, my heart raced and I was pretty sure I’d ground my teeth to dust by the time this little show of hers ended. Cool air blasted through the vents, offering little relief on the blistering hot day. Frozen like a goddamn statue, I couldn’t look away from the screen as Fiona stepped inside the large conference room with a serene look on her face.

“How can I help you, Agent?” Her hands were clasped together in front of her on the table, the laptop positioned so I could see them both.

The agent looked like a fucking Boy Scout with his crew cut and cheap suit. “Agent Halloran, Ms. O’Malley. Have you seen your father recently?”

“Not in nearly two weeks. Is there a problem?” I couldn’t help but smile at the way she kept returning questions onto the obviously rookie agent.

Halloran sat forward, elbows propped on the table. “That’s what I’m hoping you can help me with. I assume, since Maeve said you occasionally work here, that you know abut the drugs found in one of your shipments that originated in Canada.”

She nodded thoughtfully as though she had to jog her memory. “I had heard about that, but I can’t believe it.” Sitting forward she pulled her laptop close, fingers poised over the keyboard. “Do you know exactly which truck they were on?”

Somewhat flustered by her question he flipped open a notebook and rattled off the ID number for the truck along with the tracking numbers the drugs were found in. “Does that help?” he asked sarcastically.

Completely unbothered by his tone, she looked up. “Can you read that tracking number again?” I had to laugh at his clear frustration with her, especially because it seemed to conflict with his desire to be polite.

Fiona gave a sexy little pout, though I don’t think she intended it to be sexy, when the agent repeated the number. “That isn’t possible Agent Halloran. Maybe your numbers are mixed up.”

“They’re not, I assure you.”

She gave him that sweet smile that I was sure had the college boys panting after her. A second later the buzz of the printer sounded and she handed him a few sheets of paper. “This is the manifest for that entire truck and as you can see these numbers all share a base set of numbers that indicate where they originated, where they’re headed and which client sent them.”

I had no idea where she was going with this, because I had no idea how the company was run, or really what she did. I didn’t know if I should be relieved or worried.

Agent Boy Scout gave the sheet a cursory once over before giving Fiona a bored look. “I see it, but that doesn’t mean anything to me. The drugs were found on the truck.”

Her sigh was the only indication of her frustration. “So you say, but I’m telling you for a fact Agent, those drugs did not originate with Cerulean Shipping or our client.” Arms crossed, her big blue eyes boring into him.

“Of course you would say that, O’Malley is your father.”

“Yes he is and I love him very much.” Her chin jutted out, tilting slightly in defiance. “But that’s not why I’m saying this.”

I frowned at her words. They sounded like a trap yet I couldn’t be sure. I just hoped like hell she knew what she was doing.

Halloran leaned forward and I could see that even he thought he’d caught Fiona in something. I was worried too. “So you don’t care if your father goes to jail?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be stupid Agent, of course I care. Just as I’m sure you’d care if your brother flunked out of rehab again.” She let the words linger as they hit their mark. Even I squirmed at the ferocity in her eyes. “My point here is simple. I created the program that generates the shipping numbers we have been using for years. If you’d actually open your mind to the possibility, you’d see those tracking numbers don’t match up to the new system.”

The agent froze at her words, then finally gave the print out the proper attention Fiona seemed to feel it deserved. He slid a highlighter tip across a few different parts and then leaned back in his seat.

“It could be a computer error.”

So that’s what they were gonna go with?

“Yes Agent Halloran it could be, but there are two things wrong with that. First, my programs don’t make errors.” I’d never seen her so confident, borderline arrogant before and damn if it didn’t make me proud.

“And second?” he asked, curiosity obviously getting the better of him.

“These numbers are how Cerulean use to do things. Before I came on board.”

Before? Shit, that meant Fiona thought someone on the inside was helping the Red ‘Rocks. Why hadn’t she said anything?

“I can see your skepticism,” she told him with a satisfied smile. “But I can show you if you’d like.” At his nod, Fiona stood and took the seat beside him, explaining the whole boring process that she brought up on her computer. It seemed like a perfect streamlined way to do business, but it was fucking boring as shit. The glazed look on the agent’s face showed he agreed. “So you see there is absolutely no reason at all for anyone to manually enter a code for a legitimate package.”

“So you want me to believe these were done by someone else?”

“I don’t want you to believe anything. I thought your job was to follow the evidence, or will you get a promotion if you pin this on my dad?”

“Why would someone who isn’t your father do this?”

Fiona stood and took her seat on the other side of the table. “Look Agent Halloran I know you have a hard on for my dad, but if he was this reckless you’d have locked him up years ago. He hasn’t worked at Cerulean since the first couple years and after that my mom took over before she died. Why would he risk his company, his profitable company for some drugs?”

“He wouldn’t be the first criminal to make a mistake.”

“Yeah probably not, or you’re just so eager to believe that you didn’t bother doing your job. Did you even look to see who created the parcel numbers the drugs were found in?”

Halloran frowned and flipped through his small notepad, then a larger case file. “You have proof of this, I assume?”

Fiona nodded. “You have the list of employee ID numbers right?”

“Yes.”

“Then you know that Dad doesn’t even have one which means he can’t even get into the building without an escort and signing in.” I’d thought that was a fucking idiot move on Seamus’ part, but it looks like it might be what saved his ass. “I also assigned the ID numbers so that no one could use someone else ID to do work they shouldn’t.”

Agent Halloran paled and stepped outside to make a call.

Fiona blew out a long breath and fell against her chair. “I don’t know how long they’ll need me here, so if you have things to do I’ll call you when I’m ready to leave.”

I watched the screen with a shit eating grin on my face. I had never been so proud of anybody for any fucking thing in my life, in that moment I wanted to grab her in my arms and apologize for doubting her. Shit! That’s probably why she’s been so pissed off at me.

Pulling out my phone I sent her a text.

I’ll wait. Sorry for being an asshole the other day.-K

She smiled. I knew we would be all right. Whatever the fuck that meant.

Moments later Agent Halloran entered the room with a dark-haired woman wearing a severe bun. “Ms. O’Malley I hear you have something for us.”

Fiona looked up at the agents with an impassive look on her face. “If you’re willing to listen I do.”

I smiled again at the shocked looks on both agent’s faces and I wished Seamus would check in so I could give him the good news. Where the fuck are you Seamus?

* * *

“So what happens next?” We sat in a corner booth inside a small Italian restaurant in the North End, enjoying a celebratory dinner. Of sorts.

Fiona shrugged, her manner had been subdued since we left Cerulean Shipping and I couldn’t figure it out. “Agent Blackstone said they would independently verify my information and once they did, Dad would be off the hook. Too bad about Maeve though,” she said not sounding sorry at all.

One side of my mouth curled in amusement. “You don’t sound like you believe that.”

“Of course I don’t. That bitch tried to get Dad put in prison. Not to mention you, the truck driver, possibly me and most of Cearul. She got what she had coming.”

Damn when she was fierce at defending people she cared about, it was sexy as hell. My cock took notice and I was happy for the long tablecloths. “I just can’t believe it was Maeve.” I’d assessed and judged her as a middle-aged mother type who loved her job and was loyal to her bosses. I’d been wrong.

“I knew you wouldn’t believe it, that’s exactly why I didn’t tell you.” Each word shot out of her mouth like a poison tipped dart that hit with military precision.

“You have to admit that you aren’t her biggest fan.” She’d been ragging on the woman for at least two years, maybe more.

She sat back and crossed her arms. “Of course I’m not. Everyone in the company got their jobs because of their loyalty to Dad or one of his men, which is fine, but none of them are qualified and they do a crap job. But me, I had to go above and beyond just to get a temp job there, and I still get no respect because it’s Dad’s company. Even you doubt me, just like everyone else.” Her voice pitched higher and she rolled her eyes. “Oh good job Fiona you filed some folders and made a few appointments. I fucking saved that company and you all act like I’m just playing the role of a businesswoman.”

“Shit Fiona.” What could I say to that? She was right and her performance today had made it more than clear that everyone underestimated her. Including, or especially, me. “I’m sorry.”

Rolling her neck and shoulders, she waited a beat and crossed her arms again. “Doesn’t matter. It’s done, or it will be in a few days and then you can tell Dad he can come back.” When the waiter sat the lobster risotto in front of her, she dug in quietly. She’d been reserved since leaving Cerulean but I’d chalked it up to nerves. Obviously I was wrong. When a woman got all quiet and pensive it spelled trouble for every man in shouting distance.

I fucking hated it. I wished she would just yell at me. It was the Irish way goddammit. Yell, scream and get it all out so we could all move forward. “It matters to me,” I told her when we pulled into the garage of the penthouse.

“Right.” That one word dripped with disbelief and I had to bite back my anger. I understood why she saw it that way, but it didn’t mean I had to like it.

More silence greeted me as we entered the penthouse. I scanned the room and waited for her to say something. To do something. But all she did was walk through the living room and down the hall, straight to her room. All without a fucking word.

I sat and stared off, not seeing a damn thing but the hurt in Fiona’s eyes as she told me how we’d all looked down on her. Underappreciated her. Belittled her. I heard the shower go on and I tried like hell not to see miles of smooth pale flesh, wet with water dripping down her body. I wanted to join her in that shower, apologize to her the best way I knew how. But now wasn’t the time.

She was pissed and hurt. And it was my own damn fault. Minutes after the shower shut off she padded through the living room and into the kitchen for a glass of water. The chill from her cold shoulder dropped the room temperature by at least fifteen degrees.

“Fiona, talk to me.”

Her footsteps stopped. “I’m tired Keane, and tomorrow I need to try to catch up on school. Good night.”

I stayed up for hours after she’d gone to sleep trying to figure out how I could make this right for her. Dammit I didn’t want things to be this way between us, maybe I never should have fucking touched her. Now things were more complicated than when I just had to fight my attraction for her, than when I had to pretend she was just my buddy’s little girl.

She’d saved us all, yet I had a feeling we—me especially—were going to lose her.

Dammit Seamus where the hell are you?