Sean Read online

  Sean

  Kate Hoffmann

  The only thing that can bring down a Quinn is a woman…

  The next Mighty Quinn…

  P.I. Sean Quinn lives by one rule-never get involved. And he's always held to it…until his latest case, where he nabbed a polygamist just before the guy led another poor woman astray. His mistake? Agreeing to break the bad news to the man's fiancée. Because that woman is already at the church, expecting to become a bride. And she's just asked Sean to be her groom…

  His downfall…

  If Laurel Rand can't prove to her uncle that she's married, he'll leave his entire fortune to a bunch of coin collectors. But before long, convincing her uncle is the least of Laurel's problems. Confined with Sean in close quarters, trying in vain to ignore the overwhelming chemistry between them, Laurel sees just what great "husband" material Sean is. And she's determined to make him see it, too. Luckily, the deal they made covers the honeymoon stage…

  Kate Hoffmann

  Sean

  The seventh book in the Mighty Quinns series, 2003

  Prologue

  Sean Quinn sat on the front steps of his house on Kilgore Street, his chin cupped in his hand, his elbow resting on his knee. He didn't have to look down the street to know his twin brother, Brian, was approaching. But right now, he didn't want to talk to Brian. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He just wanted to be left alone.

  "Sean!"

  "Go to hell!" he shouted as Brian strode up the front sidewalk.

  "Come on, don't be that way. Why didn't you stick around? She wanted to talk to you. You just stood there like a lump."

  Sean's fists clenched and he fought the impulse to strike out, to put a nice purple bruise on that pretty face of Brian Quinn's. "She wanted to talk to you," Sean shouted. "She's only pretending to like me so she can get to you. I'm not stupid. I see the way she watches you."

  Brian stopped cold, his jaw agape. A frown wrinkled his brow. Sean took a small amount of satisfaction that he'd had the rare opportunity to best his brother. When it came to the mysterious motivations of seventh-grade girls, Brian still couldn't tell when he was being hosed.

  Sean unclenched his fists, knowing that he couldn't hit his brother for simple stupidity. Still, he wouldn't mind popping Brian good just for fun. Although they were twins, they didn't have much ink common beyond looks. Brian was part of the cool crowd at school, always knowing how to act and what to say. The teachers loved him, the girls adored him and he had a wide circle of buddies who seemed to hang on his every word.

  Sean was known for nothing more than the fact that he was Brian Quinn's brother-the shy one, the dumb one, the silent one. He'd always struggled to fit in, knowing Brian's friends expected so much more from him-and were constantly disappointed when he didn't deliver. When Colleen Kiley started paying attention to him, he thought, for one brief instant, that he might have found someone who actually saw him for who he was. But it hadn't taken him long to realize what she was really after. He had always been able to sense when he was being manipulated or lied to.

  "She… she doesn't like me," Brian stuttered. "She told me she likes you."

  "Get real. Sometimes you can be as dumb as a pile of dirt," he muttered as he turned and walked to the front door. "Go ask her to the dance and see if she doesn't say yes. She doesn't want to go with me, she wants to go with you. She's just using me to get to you."

  Sean yanked open the ragged screen door and stalked inside, letting the door slam behind him. He stormed through the house, past his little brother Liam, who was sprawled on the floor watching television, and past his oldest brother Conor, who had just come home from the police academy. Dylan, a high school senior, was off with one of his friends and Brendan was sitting quietly at the kitchen table, his nose buried in some dumb book about India.

  Life was relatively normal, now that their father, Seamus Quinn, had left for another sword-fishing run on the Mighty Quinn. They'd be without their only parent for at least another month, but Sean almost wished his father wouldn't bother coming home at all. His infrequent periods of residence only threw the family into turmoil and emphasized the fact that the six Quinn brothers were existing on the edge, just a few steps ahead of the social workers and the bill collectors, just a few dollars away from eating ketchup soup for dinner.

  Conor had managed pretty well over the years and kept the family from falling apart. Now that he'd graduated from high school and was bringing home a regular paycheck, the future looked a little brighter. Their father's luck at poker no longer determined whether or not they'd go to bed with empty bellies.

  Sean hurried to his bedroom and closed the door behind him. After flopping down on his bed, he covered his eyes with his arm. Sometimes his twin brother was so dense. Jaysus, for a guy who had so many girls drooling over him, he should have figured them out a long time ago.

  Each of the Quinn boys had a particular quality they were known for. Nineteen-year-old Conor was the steady one, the provider. Dylan, the next oldest, was the playboy. All he had to do was crook his finger and every girl within a hundred yards was his. Then there was Brendan, the dreamer. He was fifteen and already he could tell the best stories, better than any of the Mighty Quinn tales their father told.

  And Brian. For a thirteen-year-old. Brian was smart. He got the best grades in school, he'd been elected class president and he was good at sports. He could stand up in front of the class and give a report without turning all red and fumbling over his words. Sean could already tell that, someday, Brian would be famous. Maybe he'd even be on television. His youngest brother, Liam, was only ten, so Sean wasn't sure what he'd be good at.

  But Sean wasn't good at anything. With a soft groan, he rolled over and hung off the side of his bed. He pulled a shoebox from the bottom drawer of the bedside table, then sat cross-legged on the bed and set it in front of him on the tattered quilt He pushed off the lid, then flipped through the contents-his stamp collection, his baseball cards, a purple rabbit's foot-until he found the small framed picture of the Virgin Mary.

  Sean knew his brothers snooped through his treasures, but he also knew that none of them would even consider pinching his picture of the Blessed Virgin. Whether it was superstition, fear of eternal damnation or just a lack of interest in religion, Sean didn't care. The important thing was that the framed picture made a perfect hiding place.

  He carefully pulled the easel back off the picture and withdrew a faded photo he'd hidden there eight years ago. He'd managed to keep the photo a secret, from his brothers and his father, all these years. Maybe that was his talent, Sean mused as he stared at the only surviving photo of his mother-he knew when to keep his mouth shut.

  He'd been just three years old when Fiona Quinn had walked out of their lives. His father's anger and sadness had cast a gloom over the house and he'd begun to drink heavily and gamble more than usual. Two years later, Seamus told them their mother had died in a car crash. All traces of her had been wiped from the house. Though his brothers had grieved for a time, they had quickly moved on.

  But Sean remembered. He remembered the spot, now empty, in front of the stove where she used to stand. And her smell-he remembered that she always wore perfume and a red apron. When he'd found the photo, caught behind a kitchen drawer, he'd tucked it away, preserving the only evidence he had of Fiona Quinn's existence.

  He rubbed his thumb gently over her face, as if he were touching her. She was the prettiest lady he'd ever seen. She had beautiful shiny hair and twinkling eyes. And a smile that made him feel better just to look at it. And she was kind and understanding. She was his angel, and whether she was dead or alive, he still felt her presence.

  "Ma," he murmured. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine her saying his name. In some secret corner of his min
d, before memories even began, he found the sound and it was soft and calming, making the anger he held so tightly inside of him dissolve.

  A knock sounded at the door. Sean scrambled to return the photo to its hiding place. When he'd shoved the box back into the drawer, he laid down on the bed. "I don't want to talk to you!" he shouted, knowing it would be Brian. His brother hated it when people were mad at him.

  "It's my room, too," Brian replied. He knocked again, more insistent.

  Sean hopped up and unlocked the door, then flopped back down on the bed. "You don't have to be such a pest."

  "I can come in if I want. You can't keep me out of my own room."

  "Suit yourself," Sean muttered. "But I don't have to talk to you."

  Brian sat on the end of Sean's bed and crossed his arms over his chest. "You know, you shouldn't be mad. After all, you are a Mighty Quinn. We all know Mighty Quinns aren't supposed to like girls. Da says they're dangerous. Falling in love with girls will destroy us. Just suck the strength right out of us."

  Sean laughed derisively. He'd heard the Mighty Quinn stories for as long as he could remember and recognized them for what they were. "Yeah, well, if you believe all that crap Da feeds us, then you're dumber than two piles of dirt."

  The stories had become a part of their family history, stories of strong and clever and brave Quinn ancestors who had slain dragons and fought ogres and rescued fair maidens. Though he'd enjoyed the tales when he was younger, he soon saw them for what they were-elaborate lies, filled with his father's hidden warnings about the evils of the opposite sex.

  "Remember that story about our long-ago cousin Ronan Quinn?" Brian slid a little closer.

  "I don't want to hear a story," Sean insisted.

  But Brian wouldn't be deterred. He loved the stories. "Ronan was from a poor family who lived ink a little cottage at the edge of a huge forest. His father was always away and his mother struggled to feed a family of six. When the last potato was eaten and the last bit of flour gone, Ronan knew they were in a desperate state."

  "I don't want to hear a damn story!" Sean insisted.

  "Yes, you do," Brian said. "It will make you feel better."

  "So he decided to take his club and dagger and go deep into the woods to hunt the wolf," a hesitant voice continued. Sean and Brian glanced over at the door to see Liam peeking in, adding his own part of the story. He waited, expectantly, hopefully, and when Brian nodded, Liam raced into the room and threw himself on the bed between them.

  Brian reached out and ruffled Liam's dark hair. "If Sean won't have a story, then I'll tell it to you."

  Liam grinned. "I love this story."

  Sean cursed beneath his breath and slouched on the bed, determined not to listen to another ridiculous tale of imaginary ancestors.

  "The king had put a bounty on the head of every wolf in Ireland," Brian continued, "and the bounty was enough to feed Ronan and his family for many years. But hunting wolves was a dangerous sport, especially for one so young. And with only a wooden club and a small dagger, Ronan would have to come face-to-face with a wolf in order to kill it-close enough to be killed himself."

  "Wolves have really sharp teeth," Liam commented. "My teacher showed us a picture of one. They can kill a man."

  "Now, Ronan had never gone to the dark forest and wasn't sure how to find the wolves. But he vowed to stay ink the woods until he found his prey and killed it-or was killed himself. Hunger and thirst tormented him from the start. Then he came upon a small quail with colorful green and yellow feathers and thought, Here is my dinner. But just as he was about to kill the quail with his dagger, the bird turned to him and spoke."

  Liam spoke up in a high, wavering voice, "'Please,' she begged Ronan, 'spare my life and if you do, I will give you a magic acorn. The acorn will give you one wish, and I will give you a piece of advice.'"

  Brian nodded. "That's right. And Ronan, always tenderhearted, couldn't bring himself to kill the quail. So he took the acorn and bent closer for the bird's advice. And what was it?"

  "'These woods are full of magic,'" Liam said.

  "So Ronan wished to have a bucketful of money, but nothing happened. 'I've made a bad deal,' Ronan said to himself as he headed deeper into the woods. He'd been fooled and all he had was a silly acorn in his pocket. Hours later, he still hadn't seen a wolf or found a bite to eat. But he came upon a huge black boar, rooting in a clearing near a beautiful crystal stream. Ronan's stomach growled and again he thought, Here is my dinner. He snuck up behind the boar and raised his club, but the boar turned and spoke. 'If you will let me live, I will give you a magic acorn and a bit of advice,' the boar said. But Ronan wasn't about to be duped again. He wasn't that stupid."

  "Yes, he was," Liam said. "He took the acorn even though he was starving. And he got more advice. 'Everything is not as it appears ink the magic forest.' That's what the boar said. And that was good advice. Wait and see."

  Sean groaned. "Do we have to? You both know how the story ends. Ronan meets the deer with antlers of gold and gets a third magic acorn and more advice. 'What you want and what you need are not always the same.' And then he meets a wolf and-"

  "No," Brian interrupted. "This version is different."

  "How?" Sean demanded.

  "Ronan meets a… a beautiful druid princess dressed in… in a sparkling white gown, with a crown of emeralds covering her long, blond hair. Ronan had never seen a woman so beautiful and he was immediately captivated."

  Liam frowned. "Wait. That's not how the story goes!"

  "Yes, it is," Brian insisted, shushing his brother. "The druid princess saw that he possessed three magic acorns and, with three, he could have anything he wanted. She desired them for herself. So she bewitched Ronan and told him that she could offer him anything he wanted for each of the acorns. When she offered to trade him one of his magic acorns for a wonderful feast, Ronan quickly agreed. The moment she took the acorn, a delicious feast appeared before his eyes. Ronan tossed his dagger aside, for what would he need a dagger for if he had such food to eat? He reached for a shank of beef. But before he was allowed to touch the food, the princess offered him something more. A bow appeared, made of the finest silver, and a jeweled quiver full of arrows. Ronan gave her another acorn and quickly tossed his club away, for he could now hunt wolves with his new bow and arrows. But before he could touch the bow and quiver, the princess offered him one final trade. His last acorn for a beautiful steed with a fine leather saddle."

  "Hey! Didn't you hear me calling?" Conor stood at the door, dressed in his Boston Police Department T-shirt and navy trousers. His hands were braced on his waist and, for a moment, Sean was taken by how different he looked-older, like a real adult. He wasn't just his pain-in-the-ass big brother anymore. In a few months, he'd be a cop. "Dinner is ready. Come on, it's getting cold."

  He disappeared and Liam turned back to Brian. "Finish the story. It's just fishsticks and French fries."

  Brian turned to Sean. "Do you want me to finish?"

  "You might as well," Sean said, knowing that Liam would refuse to leave until he heard how the Mighty Quinn triumphed in the end.

  "When Ronan saw the fine steed, he thought, I will catch many wolves with such a fine horse and I will collect many bounties and make my family rich. He pulled the last acorn from his pocket. But then Ronan hesitated. The acorns must have very powerful magic to be so valuable to the princess. The druid princess demanded the third acorn, her voice turning shrill and her face turning ugly with anger. Ronan suddenly remembered the advice he was given by the quail, the boar and the deer."

  "The woods are full of magic, everything is not as it appears and what you want and what you need are not always the same," Liam repeated.

  "'No!' Ronan cried, clutching the last acorn in his fist. In the blink of an eye, the feast, the quiver and bow and the fine horse disappeared, for they were an illusion. And the princess turned into a huge, vicious wolf, snarling and lunging toward him, trying to get him to drop th
e acorn. Ronan had thrown aside all his weapons and had no escape."

  Even Sean wasn't sure how the story would end, for this was a completely different version of Ronan's tale from the one his father often told. In his father's tale, the wolf guarded a princess and Ronan killed the wolf and rescued the princess. Then he chastely returned her to her father and went on his way, because Mighty Quinns never fell in love.

  Brian paused and waited, dragging out the moment.

  "All right, what happened?" Sean finally asked.

  "Well, Ronan gathered his courage, held the single acorn tightly in his fist and closed his eyes, wishing that the wolf would turn into a harmless animal, like a mouse or a rabbit. When the snarling and growling finally ceased, Ronan opened his eyes and in front of him was a beautiful golden wolf pelt, worth a fine bounty from the king. He carefully lifted it up and, to his surprise, an ugly toad jumped out. When the druid princess realized a magic acorn had been used to turn her into a toad, she hopped off into the woods, and Ronan headed for home, anxious to collect his bounty. And after that, there was always food on Ronan's table."

  Sean couldn't help but laugh at the tale's ending. "That story doesn't even make sense. If Ronan was so smart, why didn't he just go home with the acorns and wish for something he really needed? And what did a princess need with magic acorns if she had a crown of emeralds? And if she had two acorns already, and Ronan had one, then she could have-"

  "Aw, shut yer gob," Brian said, giving him a shove. "It's just a story. Who's gonna believe in magic acorns anyway?"

  "It was a good story," Liam said, his voice full of appreciation. He scrambled off the bed. "And I know the moral. Never trust a woman, no matter how pretty she is. A Mighty Quinn can never fall in love." He ran to the bedroom door, then turned back. "Oh, yeah, and don't get too greedy when someone offers you really nice stuff." He ran out, shouting to Conor that he was starving.