‘Michael!’ A different voice rang out. She saw a man approaching from the yards. He was tall, lean-hipped and wide-shouldered like his son, with a tough weathered face and a thatch of almost-white hair. ‘So you’re back, are you? Where’s Caesar?’ His eyes, Taryn suspected, would be the same piercing aqua as his son’s, though it was hard to tell in the dimness.
‘Hi, Dad. I’m afraid Caesar bolted in the storm and left me to—’
‘No! It can’t be!’ Patrick O’Malley’s voice sliced over his son. ‘Not you!’ He was staring up at the driver’s side of the Land Cruiser now. Staring up at her. He took a step closer, his face twisting in fury and disbelief, causing Taryn’s fingers to tighten on the wheel, her heart pounding.
Did Patrick O’Malley hate the Conways that much? she wondered shakily, flicking her tongue over her lips. And how had Mike’s father recognised her? She’d never even met the man! Patrick O’Malley had refused to have anything to do with the Conways.
‘Crystal!’ he spat out, his eyes glinting slits in his leathery brown face. They were his son’s eyes all right. ‘I don’t believe it! What in hell’s name are you—?’ He stopped, clamping his mouth shut, as if realising he’d made a monstrous mistake.
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