LITMIR.BIZ

       Three

      “We may have found something.”

      Mac sat up straighter and glanced toward the closed bedroom door where Jenna had disappeared over an hour ago.

      “The scrolls?” he asked his associate Ryker in a hushed tone. But Ryker was so much more than an associate. He was a brother, a friend, an enforcer. He might not share the same blood, but he was practically family.

      And he’d found information on the infamous scrolls. The nine pieces of family heritage they’d been chasing for decades. Their ancestor was an Irish monk who’d been chosen to transcribe Shakespeare’s early works. The scrolls were invaluable...and still missing. They’d been in the O’Shea family up until they’d lost everything in the Great Depression, then they’d vanished.

      Under the direction of their father, they’d followed countless leads. Once Patrick had passed and Braden had taken control, he’d gone to the point of origin at an old estate in Boston that used to be owned by the O’Sheas. The scrolls were last known to be there, yet his family was still on a damn wild goose chase. Granted, had he not gone to the starting point, Braden never would’ve met Zara, the love of his life. Zara now owned the home which used to be in their family. Even she had searched her home, but nothing had turned up.

      Mac, his brother Braden and their sister Laney were ready to fulfill their late father’s request and find these missing heirlooms, but so far they’d had no luck. Ryker, the go-to guy who was more like a brother than an employee, had proved himself to be relentless in finding the scrolls, in fulfilling a dying man’s wish—no matter where in the world he had to follow the trail.

      “I’m actually boarding the jet now,” Ryker stated. “I’ll be heading to Chicago on a tip from McCormick’s.”

      McCormick’s. If the O’Sheas worried about rivals, McCormick’s would be top of the list. But, Mac’s family had been in the industry much longer and had far longer reaches into that world...both political and civilian. That, coupled with everything they had going on behind the scenes, definitely made them the most sought-out auction house in the world. They could get the job done, fly under the legal radar and have transactions completed quickly and efficiently. Their clients never knew the details of how things were handled, they only knew O’Shea’s was discreet and got things done.

      “Is this tip from a reliable source?” Mac asked.

      “Reliable enough,” Ryker said. “I’ll keep you posted, but Braden was busy at some event with Zara and they couldn’t be bothered, so I had to act fast. Where are you, anyway? Still in Barcelona?”

      Mac came to his feet and glanced out the open doorway toward the inky water, shimmering only slightly from the moon peeking from behind the clouds. Bora Bora was one of the most beautiful places on the planet...it was also one of the most romantic. Not that he did the whole candlelight-on-the-beach kind of thing. He was more of a slam the bedroom door with his foot as he plastered a willing woman against the wall and claimed her type of guy.

      “I’m in Bora Bora with Jenna. She had a family emergency.” Sort of. “I’ll be home in a week, but let me know as soon as you discover anything, no matter how minor.”

      “Will do.”

      Mac disconnected the call and gripped his cell in his hand. Every time there was another lead, he got anxious. After years of letdowns, Mac knew he shouldn’t get his hopes up, but all of this searching had to pay off at some point, didn’t it? Because none of them would stop until these scrolls were found. Unfortunately, Patrick O’Shea had passed before he could fulfill that vow. The heart attack that claimed his father was sudden. He’d gone in for surgery, knowing there was a risk, but it was his only option for survival. They’d lost him on the table.

      Mac didn’t know if he’d ever get used to the idea of his father not being around. Then again, he didn’t want to get used to the loss. He wanted to remember his father for the powerful, loving family man he was. He may have been a hard-ass outside his inner circle, he may have had more blood on his hands than a corrupt politician, but Patrick O’Shea was loyal to those close to him. Mac missed that man every minute of every day and would continue to honor his father’s legacy and work with his siblings to make the O’Shea name as reputable as ever.

      With his mind spinning in so many directions, Mac was too wound up to go to bed. Well, he was too wound up to sleep. Getting between the sheets with Jenna right now wouldn’t be wise. He wanted her so damn bad, with a fierceness he’d not allowed himself to feel before. She wasn’t ready, though.

      His priority for the next few days was to make Jenna smile, to make her life worry-free and to get her to see just how easy it would be to be intimate and still be friends. He wasn’t looking for a lifetime commitment; they were already best friends and that was about as close to someone as he was willing to get.

      Given the family business, he was used to keeping certain things close to his chest. He didn’t want to get too involved with anyone because he doubted there was a woman in the world who would put up with his lies. And he would lie to Jenna—he had lied to her. He had no choice with his lifestyle, and he wasn’t about to apologize for it.

      He’d been born an O’Shea, born into a world that was glamorous, powerful and, more often than not, deceitful. He was proud of his name, dirty rumors be damned. Because, overall, the name O’Shea brought prestige and power. No one questioned them to their faces. And Mac would stop at nothing to help fulfill his father’s dying wish in getting back the scrolls. At all costs. They’d been missing long enough and he wanted to be the one to bring them back to their rightful place.

      Turning back around, Mac eyed the bedroom door once again. Was she asleep? Was she tossing and turning? Was she fantasizing about the offer he’d given? One way to find out. Stripping off his shirt, Mac tossed it to the sofa and padded toward the

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