forward. ‘For God’s sake … I
never
knew about you. How many more times?’
Luke stumbled back, waiting for the blow. He hit the corner of the table and a sharp pain in his chest made him cry out. Then Jack was there, helping him into an armchair, ignoring the weakened attempt to shrug him aside.
‘Bastard!’ hissed Luke, when he’d caught his breath.
Jack was watching him, frowning. ‘You thought I was going to hit you, didn’t you?’
Luke didn’t answer but held Jack’s gaze.
‘I would never do that!’ Jack said, shaking his head.
‘
Course
not,’ said Luke. Jack was probably no different to Joe. Just wore better clothes.
Jack sat down on the end of the bed and stared at his hands as he spoke. ‘Luke, you make me angry and frustrated – but I would never hit you.’ He looked up. ‘Who gave you those bruises? The ones on your face, your arms – all over your body.’
‘I was in a car crash!’ snapped Luke. ‘Did you miss that bit?’
‘No, you got those bruises before. Someone beat you up.’
‘What do you care?’ He was not about to spill out his life story to Jack Stewart. Sitting there so self-righteous, like all the problems hadn’t been caused by him. His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. ‘Who’s that?’ he whispered. Who knew they were here? Would the hospital have told anyone?
‘Room service, probably,’ said Jack. He had the door open before Luke could hide in the other room. A waiter walked in with a trolley of covered dishes and bottled drinks. Jack tipped him and then they were alone again. ‘I thought it best to eat here.’
‘Are you ashamed of me?’ demanded Luke. ‘I
can
use a knife and fork.’
Jack leaned forward and, with an exaggerated gesture, flicked at Luke’s shoulder. ‘That chip is getting tiresome. Lose it. I just thought it better for you to rest your leg instead of struggling down to the restaurant.’
‘Why don’t you let me make my own decisions?’ Luke saw the corners of Jack’s mouth twitching. The scumbag was laughing at him. ‘What’s so funny?’
‘I thought you were only your mother’s son,’ said Jack, ‘but I was wrong. You’re stubborn and you’re bolshie. You could be more like me than I thought.’
‘Great,’ muttered Luke. Just what he needed.
‘Anything else I should know, Mr Stewart?’
Jack sipped at his coffee. Freshly ground Colombian beans. Nothing better to start the day. He spoke into the phone. ‘Yes. Watch out for the Kiernans, especially Joe. He’s a hard bastard. Quick with his fists.’
‘Don’t worry, I can handle myself.’ And the man probably could. Doyle, ex-Guard turned private detective. Recommended by Flynn. ‘How should I contact you?’
‘Call this number – my mobile,’ Jack told him. ‘Don’t ever ring my office. And put nothing on paper.’
‘Understood. I’ll get to Ennis on Monday. Then give me a while to nose around, see what I can find.’
Replacing the receiver, Jack felt a twinge of guilt. Should he be prying into Luke’s life? But surely he had a right – and a responsibility – to know what he was taking on. There were those bruises for a start. And the police at the hospital had mentioned some trouble. Luke had been acting very suspiciously about his suitcase. There was Matt’s safety to think about. And Maggie’s. Luke, of course, must never find out that a detective had been hired.
Jack buttered a croissant and glanced at the flight details. This was it. Back to Baronsmere with Luke, and Annie’s body. The shit would really hit the fan then. A few weeks of hell ahead. And this week had been bloody torture, too. Well, apart from Emer. She’d been the one highlight.
He couldn’t believe he hadn’t asked her to spend the night with him, but something had held him back, maybe fear of rejection. She wasn’t like the usual women he met, who often fell at his feet. Would she just forget him now? Out of sight, out of mind? There was one
never
knew about you. How many more times?’
Luke stumbled back, waiting for the blow. He hit the corner of the table and a sharp pain in his chest made him cry out. Then Jack was there, helping him into an armchair, ignoring the weakened attempt to shrug him aside.
‘Bastard!’ hissed Luke, when he’d caught his breath.
Jack was watching him, frowning. ‘You thought I was going to hit you, didn’t you?’
Luke didn’t answer but held Jack’s gaze.
‘I would never do that!’ Jack said, shaking his head.
‘
Course
not,’ said Luke. Jack was probably no different to Joe. Just wore better clothes.
Jack sat down on the end of the bed and stared at his hands as he spoke. ‘Luke, you make me angry and frustrated – but I would never hit you.’ He looked up. ‘Who gave you those bruises? The ones on your face, your arms – all over your body.’
‘I was in a car crash!’ snapped Luke. ‘Did you miss that bit?’
‘No, you got those bruises before. Someone beat you up.’
‘What do you care?’ He was not about to spill out his life story to Jack Stewart. Sitting there so self-righteous, like all the problems hadn’t been caused by him. His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. ‘Who’s that?’ he whispered. Who knew they were here? Would the hospital have told anyone?
‘Room service, probably,’ said Jack. He had the door open before Luke could hide in the other room. A waiter walked in with a trolley of covered dishes and bottled drinks. Jack tipped him and then they were alone again. ‘I thought it best to eat here.’
‘Are you ashamed of me?’ demanded Luke. ‘I
can
use a knife and fork.’
Jack leaned forward and, with an exaggerated gesture, flicked at Luke’s shoulder. ‘That chip is getting tiresome. Lose it. I just thought it better for you to rest your leg instead of struggling down to the restaurant.’
‘Why don’t you let me make my own decisions?’ Luke saw the corners of Jack’s mouth twitching. The scumbag was laughing at him. ‘What’s so funny?’
‘I thought you were only your mother’s son,’ said Jack, ‘but I was wrong. You’re stubborn and you’re bolshie. You could be more like me than I thought.’
‘Great,’ muttered Luke. Just what he needed.
‘Anything else I should know, Mr Stewart?’
Jack sipped at his coffee. Freshly ground Colombian beans. Nothing better to start the day. He spoke into the phone. ‘Yes. Watch out for the Kiernans, especially Joe. He’s a hard bastard. Quick with his fists.’
‘Don’t worry, I can handle myself.’ And the man probably could. Doyle, ex-Guard turned private detective. Recommended by Flynn. ‘How should I contact you?’
‘Call this number – my mobile,’ Jack told him. ‘Don’t ever ring my office. And put nothing on paper.’
‘Understood. I’ll get to Ennis on Monday. Then give me a while to nose around, see what I can find.’
Replacing the receiver, Jack felt a twinge of guilt. Should he be prying into Luke’s life? But surely he had a right – and a responsibility – to know what he was taking on. There were those bruises for a start. And the police at the hospital had mentioned some trouble. Luke had been acting very suspiciously about his suitcase. There was Matt’s safety to think about. And Maggie’s. Luke, of course, must never find out that a detective had been hired.
Jack buttered a croissant and glanced at the flight details. This was it. Back to Baronsmere with Luke, and Annie’s body. The shit would really hit the fan then. A few weeks of hell ahead. And this week had been bloody torture, too. Well, apart from Emer. She’d been the one highlight.
He couldn’t believe he hadn’t asked her to spend the night with him, but something had held him back, maybe fear of rejection. She wasn’t like the usual women he met, who often fell at his feet. Would she just forget him now? Out of sight, out of mind? There was one
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