Page 1 of Bracing The Storm

Chapter One

“Are you sure you know where you’re heading, love? There’s nothing here.”

I peer from the taxi driver to the hand-drawn map in my hands, trying to make sense of all the Gaelic names. The more I stare, the more it becomes gibberish to me.

The driver sighs for the umpteenth time. He’s been doing so the entire drive from Cork airport to wherever we are. His patience is wearing thin, and I can definitely understand why.

“Give me a second, please.”

I run my finger over a line on the map, unsure whether it’s supposed to be a highway, a river or just an ink smudge from a runny pen. It could be any of these, and the letter in my handbag is definitely not helpful in navigating my way around.

It’s not like everyone knows where the Walsh residence is, which is probably why the lawyer’s office drew a map. Together with a village name I can’t pronounce, that pretty much sums up all the directions I have.

The driver starts to drum his fingers on the taximeter, drawing my attention to the old thing. My heart skips a beat as I catch sight of the exorbitant amount, and I almost tell him to pull over and let me walk the rest of the way. He must havecaught my shocked expression because his brows draw together. I can almost hear the workings of his brain. He probably thinks I may not be able to pay the fare.

“I have money,” I assure him, and open my bag to show him the wad of cash I withdrew before boarding the plane, draining my bank account to the max.

His brows shoot up and something shimmers in his eyes.

Stupid!

I feel like slapping myself upside the head at my stupidity. We’re alone in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by lush hills and giant stones that could hide a body, and the poor soul wouldn’t be found in this century. There’s nothing stopping the driver from killing me and taking off with my money. He would probably even get away with it. No one knows my exact whereabouts. No one would notice my disappearance for days, or longer. And by that time, people would assume I’d just cashed in my inheritance and took off to the Bahamas.

I can almost see my face on the back of a milk carton.

Missing person: Lori Crest

Age: 21 for the last few years

Height: 5’4”

Weight: You don’t ask a woman personal stuff like that!

Hair color: brown bordering on boring, also in dire need of a haircut

Last seen: Boarding a plane to who knows where

Possible whereabouts: Tough one. Could be six feet under or sipping cocktails on a sandy beach in the Bahamas. Anything’s possible.

I shake my head to get rid of the dark thoughts that threaten to engulf me.

“It’s not as much as it looks,” I hurry to add before he gets the wrong idea. “Let me live and there’s more for you where this came from.”

Argh!I groan inwardly.

Now I’ve just given him the idea of kidnapping me and holding me for ransom. What’s wrong with me today? It must be the Irish food. All those delicious pies they kept throwing around on the flight from NYC probably didn’t agree with my blood sugar. Not only did they leave me with a false sense of safety but also with some extra padding around the hips, which I really don’t need.

“Relax, love,” the driver says in that accent of his that basically forces me to try to read his expression because I can barely make out a word. “I’m not going to rob you. At least not today,” he adds with a wink, followed by raucous laughter at his own joke. I don’t know whether to join in out of sheer relief or be annoyed that he’s making fun of me.

In the end, relief wins. “Good one. Thank you. You had me scared there for a few moments.”

“Shoo me.” His laughter dies just as quickly as it came. He’s staring at me now, waiting for me to do something.

Only…what?

I frown. “You want me to…” I look around helplessly as my mind works hard to make sense of his strange request. “Shoo you?”

He nods.

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