The Mystery of the Claddagh Rings (2 page)

“You’re on private property.” Her future daddy’s words held bite, his muscled arms crossing an impressive chest in order to intimidate. “If you’re hoping for Poppy’s autograph, contact her publicist and maybe he’ll send you one. Now leave before I call the cops.”

Fin laughed. Just couldn’t help herself.
This one’s a real winner.
“Hmm, not even married yet and you’re already barking orders.” She locked the CR-V, and taking a step forward, got in his face. “Get out of my way.”

“Damn. I hate dealing with stalkers before my morning coffee.” In a quick move, he had her plastered against him, her hands pinned behind her back. Not exactly the way a man should greet his future stepdaughter, considering it felt more like an embrace. “I thought I made it clear. Poppy wants to be left alone.”

“I can see you’re a little slow on the uptake, so I’ll try again.” Fin stood tall, tipping her head back to glare at him. He smelled of woodsy shower gel and looked even better close up, the stubble on his jaw as dark as his short-cropped hair. Then again, Mom had always been selective about packaging. Too bad she never saw the worms rotting inside her eye candy. “Take your paws off me before I knee your balls clear through the top of your head.”

He chuckled, his grip tightening around her. “Honey, you’d need a stepladder to do that.”

“Fiona?” Poppy ran down the stairs in a silver hip-length sweater and yoga pants, her beaded rasta braids clinking together. She batted the hulk out of the way and wrapped her in a familiar cloud of perfume. “Ohmigod! I can’t believe you’re really here.”

“It’s me, Mom,” Fin said, hugging her back.

Her mother grabbed her hand and started dragging her to the house. “Call me Poppy remember? God forbid anyone finds out I have a child your age.”

A familiar reminder, one Fin had been hearing since high school. She stopped the forward momentum, gesturing to the man breathing down the back of her neck. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your fiancé?”

“What?” Poppy turned, her eyes questioning. “Oh, him. He’s not my fiancé, darling. Say hello to Ryan O’Shea, our temporary property manager while Holmsby recuperates from gallbladder surgery.”

“Ma’am.” Fin thought him too arrogant to be a property manager. “If you’ll hand me the keys, I’ll grab your luggage from the car.”

Sure, don’t bother apologizing for being a macho jerk.
She pulled the key ring from her pocket. “You can put the bags in the guesthouse.”

“Seriously, Fiona?” A hand fisted at her waist, her mother’s mouth formed a pout. “There’s so much going on this week you should stay in the main house with the rest of us.”

Uh-huh
. Fin guessed “going on” meant party central with hoards of guests from the glossy tabloid world. So not her thing. “Thanks, but I need the quiet.”

“You always did.” Poppy shook her head, opening the door to the foyer. The oak-panelled walls and wood-beamed, white ceiling hadn’t changed. Polished wood floors and thick scatter rugs were also the same. The long bank of windows on the far side of the room provided a sweeping view of the ocean. A fireplace large enough to roast a small deer crackled center stage between the windows. A massive spruce tree decorated with lights and Christmas decorations stood in a corner, holly and tree boughs winding the staircase banister. They moved into the vast white living room, pale-yellow and blue accents in the pillows, vases and flower arrangements.

“Paul, where are you? Come say hello to Fiona.”

A guy sauntered down the long hallway from the kitchen. He was bare-chested with his jeans unsnapped, tattooed sleeves running down both arms, and what looked like a Bloody Mary in his hand at nine o’clock in the morning. A rat’s nest of tangled brown hair hung past his shoulders, sleep creases lining his face.
Not a morning person on his best day
, Fin decided. He flopped on a couch, dangling a leg over an armrest. “Yo.”

Obviously a man of few words, Fin recognized him from a hard rock group of the nineties, famous for trashing hotel rooms, nailing groupies, and bashing reporters. No doubt he’d blown through his own millions and needed Poppy’s money to keep him in style. Another loser in a long line of them. God, would her mother never learn?

“Let’s go to my room,” Poppy said, no doubt realizing her knuckle dragger had limited social skills. “We can talk there.”

Fin climbed the stairs to the elegant corner suite. The sitting room decorated in pale-blue and pink chintz sofas and chairs, airy antique end tables, and lamps complimenting the white trim surrounding two walls of windows. White carpeting on gleaming hardwood floors continued into the bedroom, an old-fashioned Amish quilt on the bed matching cornices over more windowpanes. Fin loved the way sunlight and ocean views filtered into the rooms. Even the hot tub in the bathroom overlooked the beach. She also hoped the glass was one-way. Paparazzi would have a field day if any gained access to the property or glided by on the water, although Nantucket Sound was too rough this time of year for boat traffic.

Her mother poured coffee from a carafe on the table, adding cream to her own. Fin liked hers black and strong. She waited while Poppy gathered her thoughts, dreading the upcoming confrontation. “I know you think I’m making a terrible mistake, but Paul and I are getting married.”

“Just tell me why, Mom.” Fin sat back in the chair and studied Poppy. Her mother’s decision didn’t make sense. Why would she chain herself to that loser? “He looks like he belongs in rehab. You’ve had problems of your own with drugs and alcohol. Why get involved with him?”

“My addictions are in the past.” Poppy took a moment before she continued. “The truth is our relationship has nothing to do with love, and everything to do with upping my visibility in the entertainment world.”

“Lovely,” Fin said, shaking her head. “You’re willing to sell out for sound bites and video feed.”

“I am, if that’s what it takes to keep me in recording studios and in front of the cameras.” Defiance tipped her mother’s chin. “This is what I live for, Fiona. Besides, there’s no such thing as love.”

“Still, it’s one hell of a trade-off, Mom. But then, you’ve always settled for less.” Putting down her coffee cup, Fin popped out of the chair. “I can’t stay here and watch this train wreck waiting to happen.”

“Please, honey.” Her mother tugged on her hand. “I promise you the marriage will be annulled within six months. It’s a publicity stunt. That’s all it is.”

Fin huffed and sat back down, wanting to paddle her mother’s backside. How could two people with the same gene pool be so different? Fin was a chef, in the process of opening her own restaurant, and used to working for a living. Why couldn’t Poppy do the same, realize she didn’t have to fool the public to hike her popularity? She could do a musical on Broadway or a show in Las Vegas. Heck, didn’t she have any confidence in her talent?

“Does Paul know about this?”

“Yes. He’s signed a prenup. Separate bedrooms and separate lives for the duration of our marriage.” Poppy slipped a croissant onto a small plate, breaking it apart with her fingers. “He’ll receive a modest income after we end the charade, providing he keeps silent.”

“So you’re paying him off. I think you’re crazy, but if it’s what you want, I’ll go along with it.” Really, what else could she do? Poppy was her mother and, stupid decision aside, deserved her support.

“Thank you.” Poppy rose and went into the bedroom. She came back holding a small velvet bag. Opening the folds, she passed her the bundle. “I’d like you to keep these safe until my wedding day. They’re gifts for my maid of honor—which is you, if you agree—and my bridesmaids.”

Fin stared down at five beautifully-crafted, gold Claddagh rings, each of them with different gemstones in the crown and clasped hands design. “They’re lovely, but why give them to me?”

“Too many people know about them.” Poppy shrugged it off with a laugh, but Fin sensed her unease. “I’m afraid they’ll disappear.”

“Spill it, Mom. What aren’t you telling me?”

“Honestly, Fin, sometimes you can be irritating.” Shaking her head, her mother indulged in an eye roll. “If you must know, I tweeted about them and showed them in a television interview when I announced Paul’s and my engagement.”

“So? They’re not extremely valuable, are they?” Fin knew there had to be more, something her mother wasn’t saying. “Has something happened?”

“God you’re persistent.” Poppy buttered the croissant, taking a nibble before she answered. “I’m concerned because my house in Los Angeles was broken into shortly before I left to come here. Someone gained access to the safe, although nothing appeared to be missing.”

“Let me guess…the rings weren’t in the safe at the time.” Fin examined them again, noticing some unusual symbols etched on the inside of the bands. “Where did you get these?”

“I don’t remember. It was a long time ago.” Poppy wouldn’t meet her gaze, a sure sign she was lying. “Please, just humor me and protect the rings.”

****

Ryan entered the old Gamekeeper’s cottage that doubled as the estate security office. He scanned the bank of high-tech monitors on a wall and checked the computer readouts. No breaks in the alarm system. No intruders. At least something was going right today, because meeting Fin had messed with his head. He hadn’t expected to be attracted to the daughter, and that was a definite no-no for two reasons. Not only was she a principal in this case, but he also knew her father. Someone she didn’t even know existed, and maybe never would. Hell, he needed to keep his emotions in check. Yet the way she’d challenged him had rocked his world. A small woman like her willing to take him on in order to get to her mother said a lot. Damn it, she was not only brave, but she’d felt good in his arms, too.

He brushed those feelings aside and hit speed dial on his cell phone, listening to it ring while hating the position he was in. Going undercover to recover the Claddagh rings left him with few options and little backup. Fin’s appeal was simply the icing on this time bomb of a cake.

“What have you got?”

“Fiona’s arrived,” Ryan said, hearing the edge in his friend’s voice. Thomas sounded like he was climbing the freaking walls. “I gave her a hard time, pretended I didn’t recognize her, and tried to get rid of her. I struck out.”

“Do you think she knows?” Thomas was CIA. He was also Fin’s biological father, although she knew nothing about him. Anyone connected to that long ago op believed Thomas was dead. Including Poppy, who hadn’t known who he really was when they’d spent the night together. “I don’t want anything to happen to her or her mother.”

Ryan blew out a breath. “What she does or doesn’t know won’t save her now. She and Poppy are in danger until I secure those damn rings. Look what happened to Fin last night? Did you read the police report?”

“I did. It’s my fault this happened, all of it.” Thomas paused for a beat. Ryan imagined him wanting to plow his fist through a wall. “Your dad and I were deep undercover with the IRA back then. I knew better than to take a woman back to my hotel room and sleep with her, especially one as unpredictable as Poppy.”

“Come on, Thomas.” Ryan poured coffee from the thermos jug on the counter and took a hit. “You didn’t expect her to leave during the night with your jacket and the rings.”

“I damn well should have. Poppy was lonely in Belfast and more than a little drunk after her final stage performance. I knew she was planning to leave, fly back to the U.S. early the next morning.”

“Maybe, but you
didn’t
know she’d borrow your jacket and walk out on you without saying goodbye.”

“True. But it hardly matters now, does it?” Ryan heard another voice in the background. Thomas came back on the line after a few seconds. “The rings have been missing for almost twenty-eight years. Now they’ve come to light again and the bastards will want them back. I’ve got people searching to see who’s involved, but so far we’ve got nothing.”

“I know how it goes. They need the clues on the bands to find the money stash from IRA sympathizers.” Ryan leaned back in his chair, watching the monitors. “Too bad the genius who thought that up died the day the rings were engraved, after he’d already hidden the money.”

“And how do you think he died?” Thomas said. “It’s how I got the rings in the first place.”

“You were just doing your job, man. Don’t second guess yourself now.” Ryan gazed at a flat screen, watching Fin make her way down the drive to the guesthouse. “I have to go.”

“Be careful, Ryan,” Thomas said. “A couple million dollars is enough incentive to get more people killed.”

“I know, but it ends now. My father’s name still needs to be cleared, remember? The CIA thought he stole the money and his career ended in disgrace. Hell, my mother couldn’t even collect his pension after he died in the bombing in Belfast.” Ryan stepped over the threshold and locked the door behind him. He spoke in a low voice. “And you barely survived it.”

“I’m alive, and I should be there to help you. If I didn’t think Poppy would recognize me—”

“Exactly.” And it would be one hell of a way for Fin to find out about her father
.
Ryan followed her at a distance. She veered off the path, heading down toward the shore. “One thing at a time, Thomas. I’ll find the rings and the money. My father’s name will be cleared. Then you can reconnect with Poppy and meet your daughter…if that’s what you really want.”

Disconnecting the call, Ryan pocketed the phone. Fin stood at the water’s edge with her back to him, her jacket collar turned up against the wind. She looked lonely somehow, and self-contained. He guessed her childhood hadn’t been an easy one, but then, neither had his. Not with his mother scrambling to make a living to support the family. Add that to the shame surrounding his father’s death, and it was a lousy environment for a kid growing up.

While he might empathize with Fin, he wasn’t above seducing her to get what he wanted. Hell, he’d almost convinced himself it would be better for her in the long run. The fact she was his type of woman had nothing to do with it. The end justified the means in this case, even if Thomas wouldn’t approve. But Fin’s father wasn’t here to object, and Ryan would do whatever must be done to clear his father’s name and end the nightmare for everyone.