Love and Shamrocks: Ballybeg, Book 5 Read Online Free Page A

and Shelia’s mum can help out.”
    “Yeah, no worries. Our lads’ weekend can wait. Give me a call when the kids are over their flu. Is there’s any news on—”
    Frank’s impatience crackled down the line. “If I knew anything about the Greer bust, I’d tell you, buddy. You know that. No one knows anything. Or if they do, they’re not talking.”
    “Okay. I might have a lead on a decent case in Ballybeg.” A stretch, but Seán was an optimist. “Maybe I’ll get a transfer back to Dublin sooner rather than later.”
    “Yeah.” The other man sounded distracted. “Listen, I’d better go. The little one’s roaring her head off.”
    “Go play daddy. I’ll talk to you soon.”
    He rang off and slipped his phone into his pocket.
Damn
. He’d been looking forward to spending a couple of days with Frank. Although he’d seen his former partner several times since he’d moved to Ballybeg eleven months ago, their plans for a weekend in Cork City kept falling through. Given the date and its implications, Seán had prayed it would work out this weekend. He craved the distraction of an old friend’s company.
    He stared ahead, unseeing. What now? Stay in the hotel room they’d booked for the weekend? Go back to Ballybeg? If he went home, he’d spend the evening staring at the four walls, too wound up to sleep, too tired to concentrate on a book or TV show. Being in Ballybeg made him antsy at the best of times, brought memories to the surface that he’d rather suppress.
    Tonight was definitely not the best of times. It was the anniversary of the greatest fuckup of Seán’s life. Weird to think that this time last year, he still had a couple of hours before his career imploded. And young Alan Brennan still had a couple of hours left to live…
    A shudder of revulsion coursed through him. He didn’t want to be alone. Not tonight. Learning Helen Bloody Havelin was living in Ballybeg had been the crowning glory to what had already been a crappy Friday. It was as if all his ghosts had colluded to ambush him on the same day. If Frank wasn’t around to talk work and rugby, he’d down a few pints in splendid solitude. Maybe even pick up a woman for a night of mindless, no-strings-attached sex—the only variety of sex he was into. He didn’t do relationships. And judging by past experience, relationships didn’t do him.
    The hotel bar would do as well as any other for pints and flirtation, and it had the added advantage of not being far from Seán’s hotel room. Decision made, he moved toward the wooden doors of the bar.
    A flash of red snared his attention. A small strawberry-blond-haired woman stood beside the fountain, clad in impossibly high heels. From the red stilettos, Seán’s gaze meandered north. Slim, denim-clad legs, tiny waist, and firm breasts accentuated by a form-fitting T-shirt underneath a winter jacket. He let out a low whistle and slowed his pace. Not bad. Not bad at all.
    His eyes moved toward her face, and his breath caught. She was fine-boned with full lips, high cheekbones, and a narrow nose. Memory tugged his brain. She was familiar. Had he seen her somewhere before? Or someone who looked like her?
    At that instant, a man in an ill-fitting suit crashed into her, sending her handbag flying. Its contents spilled over the marble floor. The man bent to help her. The hairs on the nape of Seán’s neck stood as he watched the guy shove some of her things back into the bag and give it to her. At first glance, there was nothing strange in this scenario, and yet…and yet, he’d swear he saw the man slip something into his pocket.
    He stepped forward.
    “Look out!” An elderly man bore down on him, struggling to retain control over his heavily laden luggage trolley.
    Seán leaped back to avoid a collision. By the time the trolley passed, the man at the fountain was gone. He scanned the crowd, but the guy had vanished. The woman knelt on the floor, ashen-faced, shoving the last stray items into