Love and Mistletoe by Zara Keane

Chapter One
    Ballybeg, County Cork, Ireland
    Location: The MacCarthy Farm
    Time: 21:06
    THERE WERE MANY PLACES Garda Brian Glenn would rather spend his Saturday night. Dry places. Warm places. Places that didn’t stink of cow shite.
    Wrinkling his nose, he hunched down behind a bush and squinted through his police-issue night-vision binoculars. “They’ve finished unloading the car.”
    Sergeant Seán Mackey shifted on the grass beside him, the sudden snap of a twig serving as a timely reminder to keep the volume down. “Are you sure about this?” His breath floated through the damp night air in smokelike wisps. “Because if you’re not, we’re trespassing on private property. Not to mention freezing our balls off. Trust you to pick the first cold night in September to go on a flaming stakeout.”
    Brian lowered his binoculars and grinned through the dark at his partner and superior officer. “Speak for yourself. I had the good sense to wear thermals. Seriously, man. My intel is solid. The MacCarthys are definitely up to their old tricks. I overheard Sharon discussing it with Naomi Bekele in the pub. Brazen as brass.”
    The police sergeant grumbled and tugged his hat lower, presumably to shield his ears from the harsh wind.
His perfectly flat ears
… Seán was film-star handsome with a deep Dublin baritone that made the women of Ballybeg swoon—a far cry from Brian’s sing-song Donegal lilt and sticky-out ears. If his new partner weren’t a decent bloke and a fine cop, he’d have resented him.
    “Come on, Seán. Sure what else would we be doing this evening? At least a stakeout is more exciting than breaking up a fight at MacCarthy’s pub.”
    “Who are you trying to convince? Me or yourself?”
    “This is the first interesting lead I’ve got on, well, anything in ages. Not much happens in Ballybeg.” And when it did, the local police weren’t left in charge for long. At the rate Brian’s career was going, he’d be stagnating in uniform until retirement. He needed something—anything—to impress the higher-ups.
    “I realize Sharon hasn’t been the most law-abiding of citizens,” Seán said, “but I can’t see her manufacturing drugs in her own kitchen.”
    “Why is it so hard to believe?” Brian forced himself to keep his irritation no louder than a whisper. “You haven’t been down here long enough to know the full story about that family. Apart from the father being a regular fixture at Cork Prison, one of the brothers was convicted of drug dealing a couple of years ago, and a second was done for possession.”
    “Yeah…” The older man drew out the word, giving it a wealth of meaning, “but Sharon’s previous infractions include shoplifting, speeding, and drunk and disorderly behavior. And all her priors are at least a couple of years old.”
    He stared at his partner, slack-jawed. “How the hell do you know all that?”
    Seán gave a low chuckle. “The MacCarthy files were among the first to cross my desk when I started working at Ballybeg Garda Station. I’ve read everything we have on the entire clan, including the fact that Sharon has cleaned up her act since she started university.”
    “Do you really think attending college has magically transformed her character?” Brian snorted in disgust. “Come off it, man. Think of all the students who are busted for dealing. Being clever enough to get into uni doesn’t mean you’re smart enough to stay on the right side of the law.”
    “All right. Don’t get your thermals in a twist. We’ll check out whatever is going on in the house. I just hope we don’t end up making tits of ourselves in the process.”
    “Apart from not landing face first in cow shite, my main concern is avoiding a close encounter with one of Colm MacCarthy’s hellhounds.”
    “Jaysus. Don’t tell me he’s still involved with the dog fights?” Seán’s mouth curled in disgust. “I knew the judge should have given more than a fine the last time he