O'Neil Brothers: High Stakes Part 11

Hmm. "Youve been fair so far about that."

"I know. He has big shoes to fill."

"What does that segment contain?" "A cut-in done by another reporter. Rubin Raskin put something together on Clay that well all use. His piece shows the vice president with some of his staff in the oval office, a press conference he gave on the Middle East, a few candid shots we had on file of him, your sister and their kids."

"Does it criticize him?"

"No, not at all. One reporter did ask him if he felt qualified to do Langleys job."

Dylan smiled. "I can guess his answer."

She c.o.c.ked her head, sending some hair over one shoulder. "What do you think he said?"

"'h.e.l.l, no. n.o.bodys qualified for this job."

She grinned, and it was stunning. "Something like that."

"So, his segment brings the total to four?" She nodded. "Whats the fifth?" A brief knock, then the door opened. A young woman was standing there with someone behind her. Rachel asked, "Ready, Jeannine?"

"Tommys still on the phone. But you have a visitor."

"A visitor? In the middle of the day?"

Jeannine stepped aside, and Rachel took in a deep breath. "h.e.l.lo, Mom."

This was going to be interesting, to see Rachel in the relations.h.i.+p with her mother. Sometimes, all four boys and Bailey turned into children when their ma wanted something from them. Dylan had noted, though, her parents hadnt been at the younger Rachels basketball game.

"Hi, Rachel," he heard as the woman entered the office.

Holy s.h.i.+t. She wasnt at all what Dylan expected. The Scott family had old money. But instead of glamorous and sophisticated, like Rachel, her mother was tall, thin, blond, with brown eyes and a rather plain face. She wore a navy blue skirt and sweater, and held a wool coat. He knew Marian Scott was a genome researcher and guessed she had other things on her mind than fas.h.i.+on. "I dont mean to bother you, dear, but you havent returned my calls."

Rachel gave a quick glance to Dylan. Marian tracked her gaze. "Oh, Im sorry. I didnt realize anyone else was here." She extended her hand. "Im Marian Scott."

"Ive read about your genome research. It sounds fascinating."

She nodded and waited.

"Im Dylan ONeil."

The womans eyes widened. "Of the ONeil family?"

"Guilty as charged."

Marian didnt react to his familys shunning of her daughter. Hadnt Rachel told her? Interesting.

Turning to Rachel, she said, "I wont keep you. But my calls?"

"Im, um, Ive been busy. Im sorry I havent phoned you back." Rachel didnt sound sorry.

"So I had to come to your place of work." She held up an envelope. "You never responded to the gala invitation."

Rachels shoulders stiffened. Her mouth did this little trembling thing when she was upset, and she clamped her teeth over her bottom lip. "I didnt? As Ive said, Ive been busy."

"Your father and I want you there." Marian gave a wan smile. "You know stardom impresses people."

Dylan would hardly call anchoring a cable news show stardom.

Rachels face tightened even more. "Im hardly famous."

The mother stepped closer and touched her daughters arm. "Rachel, you hosted the Miss New York Pageant last year. No ones forgotten you won the crown, even though it was a while ago."

"The network arranged the hosting." Which she clearly objected to.

"Be that as it may, donors like to hobn.o.b with celebrities."

Dylan waited for something more personal. Maybe like, Youre our daughter, and this is a family thing.

But all that came out was, "It would look odd if you didnt support the Childrens Hospital." "Ill write you a check."

Marians face fell in genuine, serious disappointment. She blinked at her daughter.

And just like that, Rachel caved. He could see it on her face. What he didnt understand was why she didnt want to go to the gala. "All right. Ill come."

"Early enough for the reception line?"

She nodded. "I cant promise Ill stay the whole night."

"Well, yes, breaking news." Now Marians tone was dismissive. "Thank you, dear." Moving closer, she kissed Rachels cheek. "Bring a date if you like."

When Rachel didnt answer, Marian turned to Dylan and held out the invite. "Wed love to have you there, Mr. ONeil. Its for a good cause."

"I...um..." He took the invitation. "Thanks. Ill see what I can do."

Marian left the office.

And Rachel deflated. She sank down on the chair, as if standing was too much of an effort. When the door opened again and Jeannine walked back in, Rachel said, "I need five minutes."

"Sure." Jeannie scowled at Dylan.

"Jeannine, this is Dylan ONeil."

"Jeannine."

"Mr. ONeil," she responded sharply and left.

Dylan waited. When Rachel closed her eyes, he felt a tug of sympathy. "Are you all right?"

"What? Oh, yes, I just need to regroup a bit."

"Your mother seems nice." She did, though it was obvious something was off with her relations.h.i.+p with Rachel.

"My mother is nice. So are Rebecca and my father."

"But?"

She looked at him then. "Too personal, Dylan. Way too personal." She held out her hand for the invitation. "Ill rip that up for you."

For some reason, he yanked it back. "Wait a second. How do you know I dont want to go?"

Her eyes widened and her color deepened. "Please, Dylan. I dont want you there."

"Why?"

She just shook her head.

"If you dont tell me, Ill have to go just to find out for myself."

The look on her face turned fearful and he thought about taking the words back. In a minute, her expression disappeared. "Suit yourself." She gestured to the table. "Let me call Jeannie and get to the last segment."

Dylan didnt argue. Truthfully, he didnt want to push her. Right now, it would be like kicking a puppy.

When he finally got out of the studio, Dylan drove to the pub. It was ten p.m. and he was exhausted simply watching Rachel put her news show together-which turned out to be an excellent production-and then debrief afterward. Hed had no idea how much work went into one simple cable-television hour and wanted only a hot shower and bed.

But Aidan had gotten back from his photography exhibit in California today, and Dylan had told his brothers to let him give Aidan the down low on his investigation of Rachel Scott. He and C.J. were coming to the pub for a late dinner. As he maneuvered the streets, headlights of oncoming cars making him squint, Dylan worried about Aidans reaction. Would he attack Dylan as Pat had?

After parking behind the pub, he entered through the back door with his key. The kitchen was empty-dinner hour was long over-but the scent of fresh dough filled the air. Must be for Sophies firefighter friends in the morning. After a neighboring restaurant had closed, crews started frequenting the pub after s.h.i.+fts, and thats how Liam had met Sophie. Americas Bravest still came, in droves, and though it meant extra work for Liam, they were making mega bucks on that little deal.

He went out into the pub proper and caught sight of two of his brothers at a table with their wives-Brie and Pat and Aidan and C.J.. Often they stayed after closing and did their own debriefing of sorts. Crossing to them, he hoped like h.e.l.l Aidan would understand what he was doing.

His little bro glanced up at him. "Hey, Dyl." Aidan stood and hugged him. "Good to see you." Hed been gone only a week, but Aidan was a sentimental one.

"You, too."

Pat caught his eye. He nodded his chin at Aidan, a silent communication that they hadnt told Aidan anything.

"Sit down," Aidan said.

"Gotta kiss my sisters-in-law first." He circled around and gave C.J. a kiss on the cheek. "How you feeling, girl?"

"Sick to my stomach. Watch out, I might barf all over you."

Brie laughed, looking sleek and sophisticated, even at this hour. "Itll pa.s.s, honey. Hey, Dyl," she said squeezing his arm.

"Hey, beautiful." Tonight her deep red hair sparkled under the lights, reminding him of Rachel, though Bries was clipped at the chin.

He sat. Pat poured him a beer from the pitcher on the table and Dylan took a sip. The cold brew went down smooth.

"So, what are you up to?" Aidan asked cheerily. "The guys said youre taking a week off."

"Yeah, I am. I gotta tell you something, Aidan. And please dont kick and scream about it until you hear me out."

Dylan saw C.J. grasp Aidans hand under the table.

Dryly, Aidan said, "I hardly kick and scream at all anymore. Whats going on?"

"Im probably giving Rachel Scott a second column."

His still-boyish face darkened. "Why the f.u.c.k would you do that?"

Dylan tried to explain his rationale.

"You should have said no."

"Hed lose his job if he did." This from Brie; there were few secrets in this family.

"So?" Aidans voice rose a notch.

Now, that hurt. He and Aidan had in common the desire to make their own way, and Dylan had supported his youngest brother when he broke off to pursue his photography.

C.J. leaned forward. "Aidan, dont." She turned to Dylan. "Seriously, though, Dyl, wasnt there any other alternative?"

"Not that I could see." He ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I know everybodys mad at me for this, but I took the week off to get the whole thing over with."

"Thats supposed to make it better?" Aidan barked. "Jesus Christ, Dylan, C.J. could have broken her neck, jumping off that Ferris wheel to save Rory from the kidnappers. Her ankle still bothers her sometimes. And all because Rachel Scott leaked Baileys location at the lake."

"I know what shes done. Its why I wrote my most recent column on her. Theres more to that story, too, but I want to finish up before I give you guys any details."

Aidans face was still flushed. "So, the second columns going to be worse than the first one, right?"

"I dont know enough yet to say that. Or if Ill even write one. But if I do, I have to tell the truth. Its my trademark."

"Theres absolutely no good reason for her to have stalked Clay and Bailey, hurt Rory and Mikey in the process, and made Sophies life h.e.l.l for a while." Though Bailey called him the peacemaker, sometimes Aidan could be like a dog with a bone.

Dylan sighed. "No, not for all of that. But she does good things, too. Aidan, thats what my column for CitySights is all about. I show both sides when warranted."

Abruptly, Aidan stood. Shoved back the chair. "f.u.c.k both sides. You pick one, and it had better be ours. " Turning, he strode toward the front door, grumbling, "I need some air," and slammed out. But not before he overturned two stools that had been placed on top of a table.

Pat said, "Huh. So much for not kicking and screaming anymore."

Chapter 9.