Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Michael came by a lot, which was great, until I realized it had far more to do with the pretty dark-haired nurse named Dawn than it did with his worry over my well-being. I did notice how much easier his smile appeared when she was around and how often he laughed in her presence, so it was a good thing in the end.
I was glad to be released—free from the IV and constant checkups—the sounds and smells of the hospital. I felt better simply being back at the farmhouse, Skylar tucked beside me on the sofa. The nightmares eased off—although I wasn’t sure they’d ever stop.
The next couple of weeks were spent mostly with Frank going through the entire operation. Statements, procedures, mistakes—it was all laid out, pored over, dissected, and analyzed. Sean was there, backing me up, as was Harper, miraculously back from the dead. Michael came in his official capacity, adding in his own accounts of the events. Once everything was finished—considering how many criminals and drugs had been removed from the playing field, plus the fact that a major organization had been dismantled, and the head of it deceased—the operation was considered a success.
Both Sean and I immediately resigned. Harper had already done so. Sean handed over the passcodes for the accounts where Orson’s money had gone, including the five million Orson had advanced to “Anthony.”
There was no trace of the account where the second five million had been stashed. It wasn’t mentioned in any report by either Sean or me. We both conveniently forgot to mention it. I knew it would never even show up on any of Orson’s computer files either. It was going to make life easier for some people, including Harper and, if he would let me, Michael.
Frank had arranged for me to have all the “trophies.” Skylar and Julia were busy tracing the owners for as many of them as they could, using Orson’s notes and, at times, even Anthony’s journals.
I watched Frank leave, grateful it seemed to be over. Skylar came into the room, carrying a small ice pack. She knew my shoulder and chest would be aching. Reaching out my hand, I pulled her close, kissing the top of her head. Her bruises were fading, the bandages gone. The cut on her throat still haunted me, but I knew it would fade.
“Hey.”
“Hi.” She smiled up at me. “Is it done?”
“I think so.”
“You’re a free man?”
I grinned. “Until you agree to marry me, yes.”
She slipped away, throwing me a wink over her shoulder. “Don’t hold your breath, fuckwit.”
I chuckled. Miss Mouthy was never far away.
Sean held up his hand. “Don’t go. Skylar, I need to talk to Cian, and you should be here.”
I met her gaze and shrugged, not sure what he had to tell us.
“What?” I asked, sitting on the couch and letting Skylar press the ice pack to my shoulder and chest.
He sat across from me. “Before he died, Anthony changed his will.”
“And?”
“He made me executor, and he left his entire estate to you. I’ve been going through the numbers—it’s about thirty million.”
I gaped at him as I sat up, wincing at the pain caused by the sudden movement. “That fucker killed my father—your brother! I don’t want his fucking blood money.”
Skylar laid her hand on my arm. “Cian,” she pleaded. “Relax.”
Sean shook his head. “I told him you wouldn’t want his money. I don’t want it either. But I have an idea.”
“What?” I snapped.
“We could set up a foundation. Get Julia and Skylar to run it and use his money for good. When you return the items to Orson’s victims, find out what they need in their lives and provide it. We can arrange for windfalls for them and for other victims of crime. Take something negative and do something positive with all the money.”
“That’s a great idea, Sean,” Skylar commented with a soft smile. “Think, Cian, of all the homeless people you could help. All the pain you could ease.”
I leaned my head back and drew in some calming breaths. They were right. I knew they were. The money would benefit so many. It was the way the money was procured that stuck in my throat.
“Cian,” Sean urged me, “Anthony Malone felt nothing for other people. Doing something worthwhile with his money—making a difference, a positive difference in someone’s life—is the best way to screw him. He’d hate it.”
“Why did he leave it to me?”
Skylar spoke up. “Maybe you’re wrong, Sean. Maybe when he was dying, he realized he needed to atone and somehow he knew you would do the right thing. That’s why he left it in both your hands.”
I snorted. “Not likely. That bastard didn’t think about anyone or anything. Ever.”
She shook her head. “That’s not entirely true. He loved his sister. So somewhere in there was a human being.” She stood. “You do what you think is right, Cian. Don’t touch it and let it waste away, like he did with his life—or do something good with it and help people.”