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  Between Love and Loyalty

  Shannyn Schroeder

  Contents

  Between Love and Loyalty

  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

  About the Author

  Also by Shannyn Schroeder

  In Your Arms (For Your Love #2)

  In Your Arms - excerpt

  Copyright © 2016 by Shannyn Schroeder

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  ISBN: 978-0-9978895-0-5

  Between Love and Loyalty

  By: Shannyn Schroeder

  Chapter 1

  Fiona Cavanagh buried the sharp blade deep into a slab of clay, and tried desperately to not think of her mother.

  “Ooo… someone’s in a bad mood.”

  Fiona lifted her head and gazed at her friend Sarah Paulsen, who was also her boss. “Who says I’m in a bad mood? I only get to do longer projects with the kids when they’re here on the weekend. There’s not enough time to work in clay after school.”

  Sarah snickered and walked into the room. “You only want to work in clay when you’re pissed off.”

  She said it as if it was a no-brainer. And since Sarah had known Fiona for years, it probably was.

  Rather than acknowledging the fact that Sarah was correct in her assessment, Fiona continued to hack the block of clay into smaller pieces for the kids.

  “Your mom?”

  Fiona grunted assent.

  “What did she do this time?”

  Putting the knife down, Fiona stared at her. “She spent the morning pointing out that if I had stayed with Patrick, my father’s career would be in better shape. As if it’s my fault my ex is running against my dad.”

  “Your dad has been alderman for two decades. It’s a lock.”

  Fiona blew at the curls that escaped her ponytail. “It should be, but ever since the latest polls, Patrick has been trying to turn this into a smear campaign, accusing my dad of sitting on his laurels. He talks about how change will be good for the city. How it’s time to infuse some new blood in order to make the city better.” She toyed with the knife. “My dad has been working his ass off for years to make Chicago better. He’s fought for all kinds of improvements and Patrick makes it sound like Dad’s been twiddling his thumbs and collecting a check.”

  “How is that your fault?”

  “I broke up with Patrick. If I had played nicer and clung to him a little longer—like until after the election—he wouldn’t be gunning for my dad’s job now. Mom only ever saw how we looked on paper. She never wanted to listen to how I felt. Plus, I broke up with him over a year ago, but she acts like it was last week.” Although Fiona had believed she’d loved Patrick, everything with him had been superficial. No wonder her mother liked him so much.

  Fiona refastened her hair and grabbed her blade. She cut a few more chunks of clay, hoping it would be enough for the kids who would give up their Saturday to work on art with her.

  “I’m sorry, Fi. I had no idea things were rough. I don’t follow city politics, except for the mayoral election. And I definitely don’t follow the aldermen who aren’t in charge of my ward.” Sarah squinted. “Actually, I’m not even sure who my alderman is. I should probably know that, right?”

  Fiona always paid attention to elections having lived in politics most of her life. Her dad ran the first time when she was still in elementary school. It didn’t take long before he learned the ropes of Chicago politics and became the man people either loved or hated. But she knew his true colors. This was the first election she’d be able to vote for him and her vote would actually count. In the past, his win had been guaranteed.

  “I’ve worked so hard on his campaign this year, but it’s never enough for her. I’ve knocked on doors and made countless phone calls, but Mom’s biggest concern is my wardrobe and how I look in the media. Don’t I know better? Image is everything.”

  Sarah burst out laughing. “I know you hate when I say this, but you sound just like her when you do that.”

  Even Sarah’s smile couldn’t lighten Fiona’s mood. Fiona organized the chunks of clay on separate trays.

  “Why do you let her get to you?”

  “I don’t know. Sometimes, I feel like she’s right. She’s been way deeper into this than I have, so she might know what she’s talking about. I don’t want be to be the cause of any problems.”

  She’d watched her brother Aiden do nothing but cause trouble growing up. How he’d managed to become a productive adult still puzzled her.

  “Can I do anything to help?”

  “Find me someone to fall in love with? Someone to take my mind off politics and appearances.”

  “I don’t think falling in love will fix this.” Sarah busied herself with straightening art supplies on the shelf.

  “It couldn’t hurt. I like being in love.” She began setting the trays on the tables for the kids.

  “That’s your problem. You like the idea of love more than anything. You keep hoping you’re going to find your prince and live happily ever after.”

  “Well, I don’t need the forever kind of love right now. Short-term love is okay.”

  Sarah snickered. “You mean you want a one-night stand.”

  “Not necessarily. I want to go out and meet someone. I’m tired of being Fiona Cavanagh. I want to just be Fiona. At least for a little bit.” As much as she loved her family, the name carried weight that people sought. Everyone loved knowing a Cavanagh.

  “Then maybe you should stop choosing guys who want you for your family name.” When all the paint bottles were facing front in a straight line, Sarah turned back to face her.

  That last bit was all about Patrick. Patrick had worked for Fiona’s father, but used her to get closer to the family and move up the political ladder. “You’re right. You pick the guy for me.”

  “Are you crazy? How is that any better than your mother telling you who to date?”

  “It couldn’t hurt. I’m sure you’ll find someone I would normally overlook. What does it matter if it’s short-term?”

  “Okay. We’ll go out tonight.” She turned toward the door.

  Fiona’s ability to fall in love quickly made Sarah a little nuts, but Fiona couldn’t help it. The rush of falling for someone, the attraction and lust when he couldn’t keep his hands off her, the lack of need for sleep. She did some of her best work while riding the high of new love. She could go days on a few hours of sleep.

  As she leaned over the clay, her necklace dangled forward. She’d made the necklace within two weeks of meeting Patrick. It remained one of her favorite pieces.

  Maybe it was time for something new.

  New love, new jewelry.

  “Hey, Ms. Cavanagh,” Emily, one of her students, called from the doorway.

  The kids were arriving for their art lesson. She’d have time to think about love and jewelry later. Time to get dirty.

  * * *

  Connor Duffy swallowed a gulp of Guinness. Men around him jostled and yelled at the soccer game on the screens above them. He was too upset to even know who was playing. Dermott’s was hi
s usual place to view the games and he’d normally be as invested in the match as every other guy, but today he just wanted to drink.

  Dermott Mulroney himself leaned on the bar in front of him. “What bug crawled up your ass?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” He drank again. He wasn’t ready to tell Dermott the news.

  “You’re ruining the atmosphere of my fine establishment. If you want to be pissy, go sit in the corner.”

  Connor knew Dermott was only trying to break him out of his funk, but he wasn’t in the mood. He grabbed his beer and slid from his seat. He walked to the end of the bar and took the last stool, effectively putting himself in a corner. Dermott was the only person who he’d allow to talk to him like that. He was Connor’s only real friend, even though he was old enough to be Connor’s father.

  Unfortunately, Dermott wouldn’t take a hint and followed him to the end of the bar. “What’s going on? It’s not like you to pout.”

  “Not pouting. Pissed off. Another rejection.”

  “You had to know it wasn’t going to be easy. Even those fancy New Yorkers can find out who Brady Cavanagh is.”

  “This was a local publisher. The editor called to talk to me. She’s real interested in my book.” He drained his glass.

  “Hell, that’s not a rejection. Let’s celebrate.”

  Connor nudged his glass forward for a refill. “She said interested, but not buying. If I had come to her a year ago, she said, she’d be all over it, but since the election is less than a couple of months away, there’s no way to get it out before. It wouldn’t have enough impact after.”

  “Shit. I’m sorry, boy.”

  “She said if I could change it and add more salacious details, newer scandals, she’d be more likely to buy. Apparently, my story isn’t enough of a tell-all. Too bad I don’t have an inside track. Everything I’ve got is old news.” He sipped from his freshly poured beer. He’d been kicking himself all afternoon after getting the call. If he hadn’t wasted so much time before settling down and writing the book, it wouldn’t be such old news.

  Connor knew there had to be dirt on Cavanagh, but he couldn’t dig any up. The man had extremely tight-lipped people working for him. They all revered the man like a god.

  In his gut he knew he’d never really be able to destroy Cavanagh. The man was untouchable. But Connor wanted the truth to come out. Cause a few chinks in the Cavanagh armor. Connor deserved at least that much.

  “You’re not giving up, are you?”

  Connor didn’t answer. Was he? It didn’t feel like giving up as much as letting go.

  “You deserve to have your story heard. They cost you everything—years in prison, your future, your family.”

  The last part dug into Dermott, but Connor knew better than to comment. The Cavanaghs hadn’t taken away his family; Mom and Danny simply chose to move on without him, and he couldn’t blame them. Dermott, however, blamed the Cavanaghs for driving Connor’s mother away. Dermott didn’t talk about it, but Connor knew Dermott cared for his mother.

  “You can’t quit now. You’ve come a long way.”

  True, he had come a long way. When he’d started the book, it had been at the urging of his counselor, one Dermott had dragged him to because of his out-of-control anger. Dermott feared Connor would land in prison again. The guy had him write his story. Once he started, Connor didn’t know how to stop. Letting it out had been freeing. It had taken years to write it in between jobs and working on his house. He wasn’t a writer. He struggled with every word, but Dermott had convinced him the book was good and should be published.

  Even if he couldn’t bring Brady Cavanagh down, he wanted the Cavanaghs to at least suffer some. Wanted all of Chicago to know who they really were.

  Dermott left him to drown his sorrows, but he didn’t want the dull feeling alcohol would bring. He was tired of feeling like crap. Everything the Cavanagh name touched had that effect.

  Suddenly, the crowd shifted too close for comfort. The mob of men quieted their cheers. Like the Red Sea, the group parted and then merged. What the hell?

  Then, over the shoulders of the men nearest him, he caught a glimpse of wavy orange-red hair. Figures. Always a woman. The crowd shifted again as she made her way to the bar. Just his luck, Red and her friend, who he hadn’t been able to see because she was so short, edged their way toward his end of the bar.

  Red spoke up over the noise of the game to her friend. “Could you have picked a more crowded place?”

  Her friend answered with a smile. “There’s no pleasing you. You complained the last bar was too empty. Now you’re mad this one is too full. I don’t know why it’s so crowded. I had no idea. There’s no football game on until tomorrow.”

  A man standing behind her tapped her shoulder. “Got your days mixed up. The game’s almost over.”

  The short brunette glanced up at the screen. “That’s soccer.”

  Another yell rose from the crowd. Her eyes widened. “Well, at least you can have your pick.”

  Red shook her head and ordered two light beers. When she turned to face her friend, her gaze met his. Her wide, bright blue eyes sparkled. She looked half-lit. He smiled in spite of himself. A nagging feeling told him they’d met before, but he couldn’t place her. He’d shared company with quite a few redheads.

  The two women huddled together and spoke quietly. He looked up at the TV in time to see the last play of the game.

  Red stood and moved around her friend to head his way. “You look like a man in the know. What’s the deal with the crowd?”

  “European football—soccer to you. This is the best place in the neighborhood to watch the games. Dermott springs for the premium satellite package so we can see them all.”

  “Huh.” She sat on the stool beside him as if she hadn’t come with a friend. “I didn’t realize soccer was such a huge thing in Chicago.”

  Waves and curls spread past her shoulders and freckles sprinkled across her nose. Her smile took over her face and his brain shorted out.

  She wrapped her lips around her bottle of beer and erotic thoughts he had no business thinking of flooded his mind. Redheads had always been a weakness.

  She thrust her hand forward. “Fiona.”

  His heart stuttered with the recognition. Although they had never met in person, he knew her. Fiona fucking Cavanagh. What the hell was she doing in his bar?

  “And you would be?”

  He banked the rising anger. She obviously didn’t recognize him because she continued to flirt.

  “Connor.”

  “Nice to meet you, Connor. So, tell me about yourself.”

  His brain sped through the alcohol he’d already consumed. He needed to focus. The universe finally tilted something in his favor by dropping Fiona Cavanagh in his lap. “Not much to tell.”

  “Are you married? Girlfriend?”

  He held her gaze and shook his head. He picked up his beer to soothe his throat, which grew drier by the minute.

  “Boyfriend?”

  He sputtered a bit before swallowing. “Hell no.”

  “I didn’t think so, but…” She drank from her beer again probably because she didn’t know how to finish. “What do you do for a living?”

  “I’m a carpenter, furniture maker.”

  “Hmm…a man who’s good with his hands.”

  Connor gripped his glass tightly to focus. He didn’t want to be turned on by this woman, but she was making it difficult. Instead of thinking about using his hands to tangle in her curls, he tried to remember every detail he’d ever found on Aiden Cavanagh’s little sister.

  He’d known Aiden had a little sister, but that fateful year, she’d been out of the country doing something only rich kids got to experience. Ever since, she’d only appeared in the news as part of her father’s campaign, the ever-dutiful daughter.

  He’d take whatever he could get from her tonight. With a few drinks, she might loosen her lips, much like her brother Aiden always h
ad. He might get some salacious details yet.

  * * *

  Fiona was a little tipsy, but she knew a sexy man when she saw him. And Connor was definitely sexy. He was of the strong, silent, and brooding type. His short, dark hair required no work. It made him look like the kind of guy who had better things to do than style his hair.

  He looked as if he didn’t want to return her smile, but he did. At least what could pass as one. One corner of his mouth lifted into a crooked half-smile, but at least he responded.

  At first, she thought Sarah had no idea who she was picking, but something about Connor pulled her.

  His hand was calloused, but his handshake gentle. He was different from most guys she’d dated and different was exactly what she wanted. She watched his throat work as he drained his glass of beer.

  “Let me buy you another,” she said. The way his eyes narrowed, she thought he was going to turn her down.

  He waved the bartender over. “Dermott, meet Fiona. She’d like to buy me a drink.”

  The old man raised his silver eyebrows. “You sure you want to waste your money on this ugly mug?”

  “That’s not how I would describe him.” She slid a glance at Connor. Just then someone bumped her shoulder and she knew she’d left Sarah alone for too long.

  “Are you going to introduce me?”

  Fiona shifted back in her seat. “Connor, Sarah.” She pressed back so they could shake hands. Then she burst out laughing, and when they didn’t join, she added, “In my head, I said it the other way—Sarah Connor—with an Arnold Schwarzenegger accent.”

  Connor shook his head at her, but Sarah smiled.

  The bartender slid a beer in front of Connor and Fiona dug in her pocket for money.

  “Don’t worry about it,” the old man said. “That’s the first smile I’ve seen cross his lips tonight. Well worth the price of a beer.”

  When the bartender walked away, Connor asked, “So what brings you two beautiful women out tonight?”

  Sarah smiled. “Maybe we’re here to watch the soccer game like everyone else.”