“We’ll find something,” Marissa told him before starting the car. “We just need to keep looking. Keep your chin up, Railings.”
Ian brought his head to rest against the glass and squeezed his eyes shut.
When the car came to a stop, Ian jolted awake and realized they were back in Falmouth. In a daze, he stepped out of the car and shook his arms and legs.
Then he heard Marissa say something into the radio and stick her head out of the glass. “We just got called in to break up a fight at O’Malley’s. You up for it?”
Ian ran a hand over his face. “Yeah, let’s go.”
A few blocks away, they pulled up to a stop outside O’Malley’s and pushed their way through the crowd. Marissa led the charge while Ian followed at a leisurely pace, still trying to shake off sleep and the bad taste in his mouth because of their meeting with the PI’s son. Once they reached the group of guys yelling and shoving each other, Ian stepped forward.
A fist came flying out of nowhere, and his head snapped to the side.
He’d been too distracted to see it coming.
Marissa’s hand was on his arm, and she was saying something, but he couldn’t make sense of it. His ears were ringing, and he tasted blood on the tip of his tongue. Then he was punched again, this time in the stomach, and it knocked the breath out of him. Still, Ian couldn’t stop thinking about his mother’s case or what Bryce Rolland had told him. When a third punch nearly knocked him back, all he saw was Jake’s smug face. Then it was replaced by Eric Taylor’s smirk, prompting Ian to launch himself at one of the guys, a short, stout man with a beer belly and wisps of hair on his forehead.
It wasn’t until Marissa pried him off that he realized what was happening.
How had he gotten so distracted that he’d let them get under his skin—like some kind of rookie?
“Thank God you’re here, Dean. Take him for a walk,” Marissa barked out, her eyes tightening around the edges. “I’ll take care of things here, and I’ve already called for backup.”
Ian grumbled under his breath but allowed his son to lead him away.
Dean drove around the half-empty streets of the city till they reached the harbor. “It’s a good thing I was stopping by to see if you wanted dinner.”
Ian pressed his lips together and didn’t respond.
He hated he’d let those men get under his skin, but what he hated even more was Dean had seen his father lose control like that when he shouldn’t have to.
Dean was still driving around, with one arm on the steering wheel and the other hanging out the window. “You can talk to me, you know. Those idiots totally had it coming.”
Ian grunted and folded his arms over his chest because he still had nothing to say.
Nothing that would make Dean understand, and it wasn’t his son’s burden to carry anyway.
Dean pulled up to an empty parking spot and got out. Ian waited for a few moments before he joined his son on the bench overlooking the crystal blue waters.
“This is about Grandma’s case, isn’t it?”
Ian shoved both his hands into his pockets. “Let’s just sit here.”
Dean nodded and pressed his lips together.
In silence, Ian studied the steady stream of people rushing past in either direction. He looked up at the evening sun, closed his eyes, and enjoyed the warmth on the bridge of his nose. On their way back, Dean stopped by the Chinese restaurant they all loved. He came back with bags of take-out containers and a distracted smile.
When they went back home, Lucy’s car was in the driveway, and it made some of the knots in Ian’s stomach unfurl. He called out to her when he stepped in through the door. Then he found her curled up on the couch, fast asleep, her expression smooth and untroubled. With a sigh, Ian hoisted Lucy up and carried her into their room. After tucking the covers around her, he switched off the light and lingered in the doorway.
Things are going to get better, Luce. You’ll see. I promise.
Chapter Ten
“Unless it’s Lucy or the kids, don’t answer the phone,” Jeff warned, pausing to give Ian a withering look over his shoulder. “Come on, man. It’s been too long since we’ve all hung out like this, and you don’t have a shift tomorrow.”
“It could be important.” Ian set down his mug of beer on an empty table and fished his phone out of his pocket.
Before he could check who it was, Jonathan swooped in and plucked the phone out of his hands. He tucked it into his back pocket and folded his arms over his chest, giving Ian his most menacing look.
