The Reckoning Read online

  THE RECKONING

  The O'Neils, Book 6

  Kathryn Shay

  The Reckoning

  Copyright © 2019 by Kathryn Shay

  All Rights Reserved

  Smashwords Edition

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  The O’Neil Family Cast of Characters

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  Author's Note

  The O'Neils Series

  SOMEONE TO BELIEVE IN Excerpt

  About the Author

  The O’Neil Family Cast of Characters

  Patrick, Paddy, O’Neil—father to O’Neil Siblings

  Mary Kate O’Neil—mother to O’Neil siblings

  Charles Ryan—Mary Kate’s brother

  Patrick O’Neil—Oldest brother

  Brie O’Neil—Patrick’s wife

  Children of Patrick—Sinead (married to Laurie), Sean, Kathleen, Isabella

  Dylan O’Neil—second oldest brother

  Rachel Scott—Dylan’s wife, successful TV news anchor

  Children of Dylan and Rachel—Hogan, Fathi, Nizar

  Liam O’Neil—third oldest brother; first wife Kitty deceased before series opens

  Sophie Tyler O’Neil—wife to Liam

  Children of Liam and Kitty—Cleary, Mikey

  Children of Liam and Sophie—Shannon, Donny

  Aidan O’Neil—youngest brother

  C J Ludzecky O’Neil—Aidan’s wife (also part of The Ludzecky Sisters series spin-off)

  Children of Aidan and CJ—Katie and Petey

  Bailey O’Neil Wainwright—sister and youngest in the family

  Clay Wainwright—Bailey’s husband, senator from NY, vice president and president of the US

  Children of Bailey and Clay—Jon, Rory, Angel, Tyler

  Moira Moran—Paddy O’Neil’s secret child

  Kinley Moran—Paddy’s son, secret child, Moira’s twin

  Prologue

  “Hello, there.” Jamie Ralston made the comment to a guy seated at the bar of Bailey’s Irish Pub. He’d been coming here for four weeks, and each time, she spent a few minutes with him. Sometimes longer.

  He turned on the stool. “Hey. Having a good night?”

  “Yeah, tips are great here. How you doing?”

  Shadows filled his eyes. They seemed deep and mysterious. She never saw them fully, though, because he wore a ball cap that covered his hair. “Same as usual.”

  “Nobody meeting you again? You always come in alone.”

  “You noticed?” He blurted out the personal comment, which was rare for him.

  “Uh, huh.”

  “Nope. Nobody’s coming.”

  “You got any family?”

  His face closed down. “No.”

  To open it again, she said, “I got a little boy. Ben. He’s five and just started kindergarten.” He had the afternoon session which worked out so she could waitress lunch. “I adore him.”

  “Parents should always adore their kids.” Then he gave a half-smile. “Bring in a picture next time.”

  Jamie was delighted at the personal nature of his comment.

  “Will do.”

  As he swiveled back around, a signal he was done talking, he murmured, “Have a good night.”

  “You, too.”

  She walked down the long aisle between the bar and restaurant to where Aidan O’Neil, part owner of the place, was washing glasses. “You get that guy to say more than two words?” he asked.

  “Actually, yes. He seems lonely. But he’s starting to open up.”

  “Not to me. He’s been in here at least ten times and I’ve tried to get him to talk, but he’s a clam with me.”

  “I guess some people need to play life close to the vest.” She socked Aidan’s arm. “Not like you and me.”

  “I’m happy. I tell it straight.”

  “Me, too.” She glanced down to the other end of the pub. “Too bad he isn’t.”

  “Yeah, too bad.”

  “Well,” Jamie said, “I’m going to keep working on him.”

  Kinley Moran snarled into his beer at the thought that this charade would take two more weeks. He hated coming here. And the waitress kept talking to him, being nice to him. Sometimes, despite his resolve, he responded to her. Sure, she was a looker, close to thirty, with light brown hair down to her waist and tonight, held off her face with a clip at her nape. Her pretty brown eyes and sweet smile completed the package. In other circumstances he might have seduced her. But he couldn’t give into his urges. Too much was at stake. He’d have to try harder not to give into her questions.

  “Hi, again.” Aidan stood on the other side in front of him. “Jamie and I were talking about you. You never engage with us guys.”

  This one was so gullible. Kinley could squash him like a bug. Not yet, though.

  “I’m boring. I don’t have much to say. I got a shit-job, work all day and come home to a one room apartment. Once in a while I can afford to come here and have a few beers.”

  “Hey, you don’t have to pay for drinks if you wanna come here more.”

  Hell. “I don’t accept charity.”

  “It wouldn’t be—”

  He threw some money on the shiny surface and stood. “Done talking, O’Neil. If I come back, I expect to be left alone.”

  “Yeah, sure, okay. I didn’t mean to insult you.”

  Kinley walked out and let the door slam. Here in the frigid air, he could breathe better. He didn’t want their charity. Or the girl’s attention. Nope, he wanted much, much more from the O’Neils and he’d get it soon.

  Chapter 1

  Two weeks later

  From just inside the door, Kinley looked over at the big happy family in the corner. Ten of them were gathered around a circular table, laughing and sipping Guinness. Bailey, three years younger than Kinley, sat close to her former-president husband. Of course, Aidan, the renown photographer. Liam, who still worked at the bar. (He was the nicest.) Dylan, the best-selling author. And the oldest, Patrick, who used to be in charge of Bailey’s Irish Pub. Kinley had seen him once when he was little. When they both were little.

  Still staring at them, he calmed his heart, which had begun to race. He’d worked decades for this day, and it was finally here. The last transaction hadn’t happened yet but the papers had been signed to complete most of his plan. He didn’t have to wait anymore.

  Time’s up, O’Neils. I’m about to wreck your world.

  With a confident stride he’d developed from his success in prep school, Harvard and Wharton, then carried into his job as an investment broker, he crossed to them.

  Patrick, who’d be most upset, glanced up at him. “Ah, our friend from his nights at the bar. Kinley, isn’t it? I don’t know your last name. But come and sit, lad.”

  Lad. For Christ’s sake, Patrick was only a few years older than him. “No, thanks. I wanted to tell you all something.”

  “Shoot.” This from Dylan who was frowning, as if he expected trouble. He’d be the one to sense something was off.

  “I go by Kinley Moran.”r />
  Liam said, “Nice Irish name.”

  “I am Irish. But I took my mother’s surname. It should have been O’Neil.”

  “Like ours,” Aidan said with his still characteristic innocence.

  “Yes, like yours.” He whipped off the ball cap he’d put on when he got here and would never have to wear again. “Because your father, Paddy, sired me, too.” He turned to Bailey. “Moira was my twin sister.”

  A twinge of regret wormed its way inside his cold heart at the expression of horror on Bailey’s face, but he squelched the feeling. “By the way. I bought into the pub. I now own what should have been mine.”

  And then he walked out. Revenge was sweet, he thought as he put on his sunglasses to block the glare from the snow and started toward his car. Very, very sweet.

  After a stunned silence, Patrick bolted up. He swore vilely as he grabbed his coat and raced out of the restaurant. Dylan was at his heels. Behind his brother, the whole clan came after this crazy guy. Even Bailey and Clay, which meant the Secret Service would follow. The February cold chilled all of them, despite their outerwear.

  “Hey, wait up,” Pat called out when he was about ten feet away from overtaking Moran.

  The guy stopped and turned around. He took off his sunglasses and raised his brows. He seemed surprised. The idiot. What did he expect? When Pat got close, he could see the resemblance. Dark hair cut shorter than theirs. Blue eyes stood out on his face, the same shade as Dylan’s.

  Patrick asked, “What the fuck is goin’ on?”

  “Exactly what I said.”

  “So, what, you think you can announce yourself, then leave?”

  “Contrary to what to what the almighty O’Neils believe, the world does not revolve around you.”

  “Man, you said you’re our brother.”

  “I am. I have the documentation. I’ve sent copies to you by certified mail. Along with my part-ownership of the pub.”

  “Damn the pub. I wanna know…if you are who you claim to be…why say it like that? As if you got a vendetta against us.”

  “Did you think I’d come crawling to the family, begging to be a part of it?”

  Bailey inserted herself between the two of them. “No, Kinley. I thought you’d respect your sister’s memory enough to approach us in a reasonable manner.”

  Kinley’s eyes widened. “My sister died in your custody.”

  Tears flooded Bailey’s eyes, and damned if anybody was going to make Pat’s baby sister cry. He grabbed Kinley by the lapels of his wool coat.

  A man from behind restrained Pat and pulled him away. “Patrick, this won’t help.” It was Mitch, Clay Wainwright’s bodyguard.

  Huffing, Pat moved back, but Bailey stood her ground. She put her hand on the fucker’s chest. “I loved Moira, and I never got over her death. You had to know she was in a gang when she came to live with us. I’ve spent my entire life helping gang kids get out.”

  “I know,” Kinley said hoarsely. Little else other than talking about Moira could make his throat clog.

  Clay put his hand on Bailey’s shoulder. “Then why don’t you come back to the bar and talk to us. Tell us what happened.”

  “I had no idea Moira had a twin,” Bailey put in. “Start there.”

  “No. I’m done here for today. Ask your father about all this.”

  Dylan eyed him. “You got on a four-thousand-dollar suit with Italian leather shoes and a cashmere coat. Can’t be too bad off from whatever happened to you.”

  “I’m doing well now. But I wasn’t always. Thanks to our Pa.” He gave them all a disgusted look. “I’m due at work. As I said, you’ll hear from me by certified mail.”

  And the prodigal brother walked away.

  This time, they let him go.

  Uptown, in the heart of Manhattan, another man walked into the building that housed Moran Associates. He strode to the desk and said, “I’m here to see Mr. Moran. My name is Nigel Pembroke. I’m the new assistant.” He used his mother’s last name and there was no connection to his father.

  “Yes, of course. You were training with Ella before she retired.” She checked the log. “You’re scheduled now. Mr. Atkins will escort you up, Mr. Pembroke.”

  He didn’t speak to the security guard for the building, and kept his cool as they rode the elevator to the penthouse, where Moran had his offices. He’d been up here only once, for his final interview. A receptionist in a small alcove stood, greeted him, circled her desk, and knocked on Moran’s door. It buzzed after she said, “Mr. Moran, Nigel Pembroke’s here.”

  Before he even saw his prey, Nigel thought briefly, Time’s up, Moran. I’m about to wreck your world.

  Jamie Ralston sensed the tension in the air as soon as she entered the pub at lunchtime. Something had happened to the O’Neil family two weeks ago that had them all spinning like tops. Something they hadn’t shared with her.

  “Hey everybody.” All four brothers and Bailey glanced over from where they sat at the bar. “Happy about your mama and pa coming back today?”

  Five faces scowled at her.

  Jamie plopped her hands on her hips. “Look guys, I’m not family, but I’ve been working here for three years and I know when something’s really wrong. And this isn’t just one of your stupid brother-tiffs.”

  “She should know what’s happened,” Bailey told her brothers. “She knows everything about us.”

  “Come sit.” Dylan slid off his stool and she took his place, right in the middle of all of them. He leaned against the edge of the bar. “We recently found out we have a half-brother.”

  “Oh, that’s great.” She scanned them. “Wait, it’s not?” The news would be wonderful to her. She’d always wanted siblings.

  “Nope, Pa screwed up more than we originally thought. He claimed Moira, but he must not have known she had a twin.”

  Jamie had heard about Moira because she’d come up in a conversation and they’d explained the situation to her. Mary Kate and Paddy O’Neil had separated briefly when the boys were little, and he’d slept with another woman. When the woman got sick, she called Paddy and told him about his daughter. When she died, Paddy had brought Moira home.

  “Yikes.” Jamie waited. “In the long run, though, it’ll work out.”

  “Not so sure.” Dylan shook his head. “There are some complications.”

  “One might affect you.” Bailey eyes were bleak. “He’s part owner of Bailey’s Irish Pub.”

  “Wow.” She sounded like an idiot mouthing interjections, but this was bizarre.

  The door opened, and in walked their parents. They’d insisted on taking a private car from JFK to the pub because traffic out there was a nightmare. Years ago, Paddy had a heart attack, but he seemed rested and tanned now, which showed off his white hair. Mary Kate was still pale, probably because she stayed out of the sun.

  Pa O’Neil crossed to them. Bailey got to hug him first and held on tight. The boys took turns embracing Mary Kate, then him. When Paddy stepped back, he frowned. “Somebody die?”

  “No, came back from the dead is more like it.” Aidan mumbled the words but Jamie caught them.

  Mary Kate flushed. “I’m bein’ a wee bit worried, children. What’s happened?”

  “Let’s sit at a table.” Dylan again, who appeared to take over. “Jamie could you get us coffee?”

  Going to the side board, she filled a big thermal pitcher and took it and six mugs to the O’Neils. “Here you go.”

  Dylan let her pour the coffee then she went to the children’s area she’d created in the pub and began to straighten it up.

  She heard Patrick say, “Pa, a man showed up here. His name is Kinley Moran, and he says he’s Moira’s twin. Your son.”

  Jamie’s jaw dropped. She knew Kinley Moran from his time at the bar weeks ago.

  Immediately Paddy grabbed Mary Kate’s hand. “Mama, I’m so, so sorry.”

  Kinley Moran rose early, went for his morning jog, showered, then came to work. He sat in his o
ffice, ready to take the next step. He buzzed his assistant. “Hello, Mr. Moran.”

  “Nigel. I need you to get a Charles Ryan on the line. Then let me know when it’s nine-twenty.” The Stock Market, the Holy Grail to most in his investment broker industry, opened on the half hour.

  The phone buzzed again and Nigel told him the call went through. Kinley picked up. “Charles. Kinley Moran here. Have you thought about my offer?”

  “Offer? You been squeezin’ me out. That’s what you’re doin’. I promised I’d never give up the shares, would give ‘em back when I didn’t need the collateral.”

  “Then stop gambling. You won’t need collateral anymore.”

  “You’re a son-of-a-bitch.”

  Kinley waited. He’d been called worse.

  “They’re my blood, Moran.”

  Mine too.

  At his silence, Ryan finally said, “All right. I’ll sell you the shares. But you gotta cancel the debts you bought up and I expect fifty grand like you promised.”

  “My lawyer will call you about the details.” He hung up.

  Satisfaction shot through Kinley. He’d waited a long time to settle this score.

  Not always. The voice was from when he was little.

  At one time, Kinley dreamed of becoming part of the O’Neil family. With brothers and another sister, a mom and dad, a normal existence.

  He’d dreamed of them coming to him. Hey, bro, welcome to the family…glad to have you…another brother, how great. He even drew pictures of them, with him, always with him.

  But he’d never had a chance to make that a reality, and now, they wouldn’t have a chance to save themselves, either. Oh, he was out to punish Pa O’Neil but the best way to do it was attacking his children. They were, well, collateral damage.

  Pa turned to Mama. “You don’t know some things.” He swept his kids with a glance. “You either.”