“Hey.” His aunt Taryn greeted when he walked in. “You’re early.”
“I wanted to talk to Grandpa Jack about something. Is he around?”
“He’s in the kitchen with Riley.”
Of course, Riley beat him here.
“Thanks.”
“What are you two up to?” Taryn asked, raising a brow.
He feigned innocence. “Us? What makes you think we’re up to something?”
“Because you’realwaysup to something.”
Patrick gave her the same lopsided grin he’d been giving her his whole life. She wasn’t wrong. He and Riley had been getting into trouble together practically from birth.
He found them in the kitchen, Jack sipping his Irish coffee, Riley with a glass of iced tea.
“Took you long enough,” Riley said as Patrick slid into a chair across from them.
“Took youbothlong enough,” Jack said, eyes twinkling. “Go on, now. Ask.”
Riley and Patrick exchanged a glance, and Riley nodded.
“Tell us about Frank Sullivan,” Patrick said.
Jack sipped his coffee, taking his sweet time before he answered. “Frank and I were in the same world for a long time. He was exceptional. One of the best I ever encountered, and I’ve encountered a lot of exceptional people. Still is, especially here,” Jack said, tapping his temple.
“So you served together?” Riley asked.
“In a manner of speaking,” Jack said vaguely in a way that said there would be no more detail provided. “He lives quietly now. Has for a long time. And he’s not the only one,” Jack said, the subtle warning there for anyone who listened.
“Someone went after his granddaughter.”
“What makes you say that?” Jack said carefully.
“Because everything points that way,” Patrick said. “Morgan inadvertently stumbled onto something while she was doing her job and was put on a forced leave of absence to get her out of the way.”
“But someone didn’t think that was enough,” Riley said, picking up the thread. “So they sought a more permanent solution in Anthony Varro—the guy who was found dead at the campground.”
Jack sipped his coffee. “The police identified him then?”
“No. We did. And we know how he was killed—by a frozen dart that delivered a lethal neurotoxin into his neck and mimicked a heart attack.”
“And?” Jack asked patiently, unsurprised, like a teacher trying to lead his students to the answer.
“And, we figured if anyone knew who had the skills and knowledge to pull off something like that, it would be you.”
Jack met his eyes. “Aye. I suppose I would at that.”
They waited. Jack said nothing more, which told him everything he needed to know. Jack did know. And Jack was okay with it.Which meant Morgan really was safer in Pine Ridge than she’d ever imagined.
Patrick nodded once and let it lie.
“She means something to you,” Jack said, a smile ghosting his lips.
“I think you know exactly what she means to me,” Patrick responded wryly.