Raising the Stakes

“No,” Mary said immediately. “How can I, if I’m to have a grandchild? Not a one of you, not Sean or Cullen or Meagan or Fallon or Briana, has seen fit to marry and give me babies, or even give me babies and then marry, if that’s the only way I’m to see the O’Connell name carried on.”

Keir grinned. “Why, Ma, I’m shocked.”

“It would take more than that to shock you and we both know it.” Mary smiled and patted her son’s hand. “Now, tell me what this is all about.”

“I just did. I want to know what secrets you’re keeping about Dawn Carter.” His mother opened her mouth and he spoke quickly, before she could get out a word. “Don’t waste your breath lying, Duchess. You’ve hovered over the girl since she came to work for us. There’s no sense denying it.”

“There’s nothing to deny. She’s bright, she works hard, she wants to make something of herself. Those are all qualities that suit our management style. We’ve always believed in promoting from the ranks.”

“Yes, yes and yes.” Keir leaned closer. “But we both know there’s more to it than that. You do have a special interest in her. And just now, when I said I wanted to talk about her, you turned white as a sheet.”

“What you said was that something had come up.”

“So? That’s hardly cause for panic. Something’s always coming up. It’s part of the business. Last month, when we found out that eye in the sky was malfunctioning. Or when the girl in the Reveille kitchen decided it might be more interesting to use a knife to cut up her former boyfriend instead of the potatoes…”

“Those things are different.”

“They are, for a fact, and you know the reason? No, don’t bother answering. I’ll tell it to you. It’s because those incidents didn’t involve Dawn. She’s always on your mind, or so it seems. When I discussed moving someone into the high stakes tables, you suggested her. The same when I mentioned we’d need to add a new Special Services rep. And for every time you’ve asked me how some employee is working out, you ask that same question about Dawn at least twice.”

“I like the girl, is all. Is that a crime?”

“You know something about her—something important—that you haven’t told me.” Keir’s eyes narrowed. “And since Dawn works for us, yes, that’s a crime, Duchess. To hold back on me when I’m in charge is definitely a crime in my book.”

Mary looked deep into her son’s eyes. Was he right? She and Ruarch had never looked into the background files of their employees unless the head of security said there was a problem and in those instances, they’d never shared the information with anyone else. That was all she was doing with regard to Dawn…or was it? Keir was in charge now. She still owned the Song but the power was in his hands. Had she kept the information about the girl from him because she’d always done it that way, or because she didn’t want to acknowledge how impotent she felt since the heart attack?

Whatever the reason, she knew she’d made a mistake. It needed to be rectified.

“You’re right,” she said softly. “You’re in charge, Keir. I shouldn’t hold anything from you.”

“You’ll always be the one in command,” he said gruffly, “but as long as I’m responsible for the Song’s day to day operation, I need to know what’s going on.”

Mary reached for the phone and hit a button. “Dan? Yes, it’s me. Would you pull the Carter girl’s file and bring it up? All of it, yes. Yes, thank you. Right now.”

She looked at Keir, then stood. He leaped up and held out his hand but she smiled and brushed it aside.

“I’m perfectly capable of walking by myself.” Her voice was gentle but there was no mistaking the warning tone it carried. Keir nodded and followed his mother through the doors that led onto the wide penthouse balcony and into the heat of midmorning.

“Too hot?” she said, looking up at him.

“Not if your middle name is Satan,” he said, and grinned at her.

“Your father always said the same thing. He thought I was crazy, when I’d go out into the sun, but I love the feel of it.” She clasped the railing and looked at him again. “When Dan Coyle gets here, you’ll read Dawn’s file. Then we’ll talk.”

“Can’t you tell me what’s in it?’

Mary shook her head. “I’d rather you read it for yourself. I’m a woman. I might put my own emotional interpretation on the details.”

His mother was never emotional when it came to business but Keir waited, his curiosity growing by the moment. By the time he looked through the glass doors and saw Jenny bringing Dan Coyle, the head of security, toward them, he’d gone from imagining Dawn as a runaway heiress to imagining her as a reformed murderer. Knowing his mother, either was possible. If Mary thought a person was worth a chance, she’d offer it.

Dan slid the door open. Sixty-something, with a thatch of graying hair and looking as fit as if he were twenty years younger, Coyle was a man who always seemed glad he’d started a new career. Keir and his mother had hired him two days after he’d retired from thirty years with the New York City police department as a captain of detectives, and Keir had never had a moment’s regret about the decision. Dan was a good cop with an honest soul and a kind heart. He was also the only man outside the O’Connell family who had ever had the guts to address Mary by her nickname and live to tell the tale, Keir thought wryly.

Dan smiled as he shook Keir’s hand. “Keir. Duchess. I see you’re both trying for heat stroke.”

“I’d rather be trying out the deep-freeze, but you know my mother.”

Both men chuckled. Mary clucked her tongue. “The sun’s good for you,” she said. “For me, anyway. It warms old bones.”

“So I’ve been told,” Dan said lightly, “but I don’t see any old bones around here.”