Beers, Lies and Alibis (Warblers Point Series Book 2) (4 page)

The mention of Blaire’s name tightened the vise that had surrounded his heart ever since she went back to California.
 

Swallowing back the emotion that was bubbling up in his chest, he said, “You can still help me from California.”

“She asked about you the other day.”

Finn tried to tamp down the smile that crossed his face, but he couldn’t help it. Blaire still had feelings for him; he knew she did. She was just a stubborn girl…just like his sister.

“Is that right? Did you tell her I’d packed on a couple more pounds of muscle and my dick grew two inches?”

“Oh shit. Was I supposed to say that? I actually told her you’ve become impotent, grew a beer gut and stopped man-scaping, so the locals started thinking you were the local Sasquatch.”

“You forgot about the Enrique Iglesias look-alike mole I started growing in the middle of my forehead.”

“Well, that’s a given.”

“Clearly,” Finn said, while laughing. “Seriously though, how is she doing?”

“She misses you.”

Even though Fiona was all the way in California, she still knocked the wind right out of him.
 

“Did she say that to you?”

“No, but you can tell. She’s not happy. She still hasn’t found a job, thanks to that asshat of an ex-boyfriend who pretty much has blacklisted her from every hospital on the west coast. She barely wants to go out anymore. I’m kind of worried about her.”

Finn didn’t like hearing about Blaire being upset, but the news about her place in life right now made him have hope. He would never tell anyone that, but he felt hope. If she couldn’t get a job, that meant she wasn’t necessarily tied down to California. Now, if only he could create some kind of nursing job for her in Warblers Point, then he would be all set. The O’Learys had some pull in Warblers Point, but not enough to come up with a random nursing job. Damn.
 

“I want her back, Fiona.”

“I know.”

“I am going to write her.”
 

Finn had been thinking about his plan of attack for a while on how to get Blaire back and the only thing he could come up with was expressing to her how much he cared for her. Since she refused to answer his phone calls and text messages, he was going to go old school on her and bust out his pen and paper. He actually got the idea from his dad who wrote to their mom while they lived miles apart and didn’t have the modern conveniences Finn and his siblings were blessed with today. Although, the fascinating technologies weren’t that convenient, at the moment, since Blaire refused to communicate with him.
 

“Don’t tell Bradon that. He’ll never let you live it down.”

“Yeah, well, that dickhead wouldn’t know what love was if it hit him square on the pee hole.”

Fiona laughed into the phone and Finn soaked up the sound. He missed his sister terribly. It was always him and Fiona against Liam and Bradon, the brown eyes against the blue eyes. Without her in Warblers Point, he had a hard time sticking up for the brown eyes, especially when Bradon had the mouth of a damn two-cent hooker.
 

“In all seriousness, I think that’s a great idea. Be patient, Finn.”

Patience wasn’t something an Irishman was born with. No, they were born with a hot temper, the inability to go a day without a beer, and a damn good drunk singing voice. But patience…that wasn’t something he was blessed with.

***

“Holy shit, Liam. It smells like a rotten pussy in here,” Bradon said, as his nose sniffed the air of Liam’s kitchen.
 

“You would know,” Liam said, as he pulled out the burnt chicken casserole he had thrown together for his mooch of a brother.
 

Bradon poked the beyond-crispy crust and cringed. “Dude, you really know how to scorch a breast.”

Liam threw the phone at his brother and said, “Call for pizza, dickhead, and you’re paying.”

“The hell I am. I came over here to be wined and dined and all I get is burnt chicken shit and the faint smell of rotting pussy. You should be paying me to stay in this hell hole of a house you have.”

Liam didn’t know why he put up with his smart mouthed, bastard of a brother, but he did. Even though they were several years apart in age, they were the closest. They always said it was because it was the blue-eyed O’Learys against the brown, but Liam mainly knew it was because both Finn and Fiona refused to put up with Bradon’s shit.
 

Bradon was like a funky-ass, aged cheese; you either loved him or you hated him and it seemed that more hated than loved him. He was a particular breed many humans couldn’t handle; that was for damn sure.
 

“Quit acting like a little bitch and order the damn pizza. Jesus Christ.” Liam ran his hands over his face, trying to rein in the temper that was boiling in his body.
 

His wife, Neala, had been gone for a couple of months now and, not only did he miss her like hell, but he craved her. He was able to see his daughter on the weekends, which was nice, but tough on the pub since he wasn’t cooking in the kitchen on weekends…a problem they were going to have to solve soon because they couldn’t keep leaning on Finn to cook, Bradon to run the bar and Tipper, Fiona’s best friend, to wait tables on the weekends. It was almost unmanageable.
 

Even though Liam saw Neala on the weekends, she refused to talk to him. She would smile with a look in her eyes that melted Liam to his core, but she didn’t speak. Sometimes he wondered if Neala was going to come back to him, but she would just pull away when he tried to hold a conversation with him. She retreated into another world, one where he didn’t exist. He tried telling her over and over again that he never cheated on her; nothing ever happened between him and Sophie, but she wouldn’t listen. She didn’t seem to care to hear him out. It was so damn frustrating to be separated from the one he loved because of false accusations.
 

He was tempted to drive over to Sophie’s, tear down her door and fuck her senseless just to prove a point to his ex-wife, to show her that was what cheating was, not some crazy-ass mind fuck she put herself in.
 

Bradon ordered a large pizza with the works on it, knowing well and good that each extra topping was going to cost fifty cents and Liam was going to pick up the bill, because that was what he always did as the older brother.
 

When the pizza arrived, they took the pie and a couple of brews to the living room to get away from the “pussy” smell that was gagging Bradon and relax on the sofa while they watched a rugby match.
 

“How’s Catherine?” Bradon asked, referring to Liam’s daughter.
 

Pride surged through Liam’s body when he thought of his four-year-old daughter. She was a chatty little thing with the fiery attitude of an Irish girl. She was going to be a handful in a couple of years, but Liam wouldn’t trade her for anything. She was absolutely perfect.
 

“She’s great.” Liam took a swig of his beer before continuing. “She’s going to be a fucking pistol, that’s for damn sure.”

“Well if she’s anything like Fiona growing up, you are in for a world of pain. Remember when Fiona used to go out in the front yard of The Sleeping Potato, pull down her pants and pee on the flowers, saying she was feeding the flowers.” Bradon threw his head back and laughed. “Jesus, I wish I had a picture of that. Remind me to tell that story to Booker next time I see him.”

Liam chuckled to himself. “I will because I love seeing Fiona kick your pretty-boy ass.”

Bradon seriously looked at Liam and said, “She’s fucking strong for a girl. She’s got a little butch in her.”

“Or you got a little pussy in you. Finn and I don’t have a problem handling ourselves around her.”

“Whatever, she takes it easy on you two to make me look bad.”

Liam shook his head at his brother. Bradon always had to have the last word, it was irritating as hell.
 

“You going to eat that last piece?” Bradon asked, while licking his fingers and grabbing the pizza without Liam’s say. “How are things with Neala?” Bradon asked, as a chunk of bell pepper flew out of his mouth.
 

“How you have women falling at your feet is beyond me.”

“It’s all in the pepperoni I’m packing. Want to see?” Bradon started to stand up when Liam held up his hand.
 

“Spare me. I’m not interested in your little spud.” Going back to Bradon’s question, Liam answered, “She’s alright, I guess. She doesn’t say much to me. The last time we actually had a conversation was when she asked me where her insurance card was and if I could give it to Catherine to give to her.”

“What does she need her insurance card for? Is she sick?”

Liam had asked himself the same thing. He knew it was always good to have your insurance card on hand in case of an emergency, but the urgency in Neala’s voice when she asked for it was concerning. Neala was never sick and, when she was, she always liked to kick the cold with a holistic approach. Liam used to rag on her for all her herbs and toxin eliminators, but damn if she didn’t always prove him wrong. In a day or two, she would be better.
 

“I don’t know, but I’ve noticed she takes out fifty dollars from our bank account twice a month. I have no clue what it’s for, but it has me concerned.”

“Can you ask the insurance company?”

“I tried. She put some kind of privacy shit on whatever the hell she’s doing.” Liam took a deep breath before he continued. “It makes me wonder if whatever the hell she’s doing has something to do with why she wanted a divorce. I just don’t get why it’s all so secretive.”

Bradon picked at his teeth with a tooth pick while he said, “Damn, that sucks, man.”

“Wow, your concern is overwhelming.”

Bradon shrugged his shoulders. “You know I’m not good at this shit. I ask how everyone is just to be nice, but do I know how to react when things are headed to the crapper? Hell no. Just be happy I didn’t make some kind of sarcastic comment.”

Liam really had no clue why he hung around Bradon so much. He was a complete dick stick. At least if Finn was sharing a pizza with him, he would have something intellectual to share, but Fiona would be Liam’s best bet when it came to advice because she was a woman; she knew how her crazy-ass gender functioned.
 

Chapter 3

Sophie waited patiently while Murphy was finishing up with a customer, a very busty customer, a tourist for sure. She had long blonde hair and she wore leggings with giant, white, fuzzy ski-bunny boots…completely impractical and ridiculous looking. Since Sophie lived in the frozen tundra of Warblers Point day in and day out, she went for more practical winter weather gear that would survive the dreaded parking lot snow slush and wind chill that bounced off the mountains.
 

“Thanks for comin’ in little lady. If ya need anythin’ else, just let me know,” Murphy said, dripping his accent with sexual innuendos.
 

“Oh I will,” said the ski slut, while winking and walking away in her cropped jacket and ear muffs.
 

Murphy turned to Sophie and smiled at her. “Hey lass.”

“I thought you wanted to be with Fiona,” Sophie asked, confused by the way Murphy had hit on his customer.

“That I do,” Murphy said, with no hesitation.
 

“Then why are you flirting with that ski hooker?”

Murphy leaned in and cupped Sophie’s chin. “That’s a pretty shade of shamrock on ya, lass.”

Sophie swatted Murphy’s hand away. “In your dreams.” Murphy laughed as he walked to the back of his shop. Sophie reluctantly followed behind him.
 

“Here’s the plan,” Murphy handed Sophie a paper that mapped out their plan of attack. It showed how they planned on getting Fiona back to Warblers Point, ways to prevent Liam’s attempts of reconciling with Neala, and setting Finn up for failure. Sophie smiled to herself as she looked over the well-thought-out plan.
 

After thoroughly looking through Murph’s layout and trying to decipher his chicken scratch, she looked up at him. “Do you think this will work?”

Murphy shrugged his shoulders. “Possibly.”

“Possibly is not good enough, Murph. We’re putting ourselves on the line here. I mean, we could get into some serious trouble if anything leads back to us. We’re talking jail time.”

Fear pricked at the back of Sophie’s neck while she thought about the repercussions that could happen to her and Murphy if they were caught…if they were ever exposed. Suddenly, the piece of paper in her hand started to burn her fingertips.
 

“We need to get rid of this,” she said, while flapping it around in the air.
 

Murphy grabbed both of her shoulders and steadied her so she was looking him in the eyes.
 

“Lass, ya need to calm down. We’re not goin’ to get caught. If we stick to our alibis, then we’ll be fine. Ya got to pull ya shit together. Ya hear me?”

“But…”

“No, we’re in this together and we will get through it together, but ya can’t be freakin’ out. Just think of the end goal, lass. It will all work out in the end.”