O'Neil Brothers: High Stakes Part 2

"What do you mean?" "Youre thin." He rubbed a finger under her eyes. "Smudges here."

"Thanks for the upbeat compliment."

He pulled away. "Hey, whats wrong? Youre not pregnant again, are you?"

"No, were done with that." Staring down at the plush rug, she bit her lip, tough girl Bailey, whod faced down girls in gangs without flinching. Then, she looked up at him. "If something happens to Mark, Clay will a.s.sume the permanent presidency. Im...Im not ready to be First Lady, Dyl. Honestly, its the last thing I want."

Because, no matter how good the prognosis, Mark Langley might never be able to a.s.sume his duties, he responded, "Theres a lot of talk in the news about how good Clay is as VP and what a great president hed make."

"I know. I happen to not be one of his supporters for the position." She hadnt wanted to be Second Lady, either, but gave up a lot for the love of her life.

"Does Clay know?"

"Of course not. My feelings would sway him. Weve talked in vague terms, but if its his life dream to be president, then Im not interfering."

Kissing the top of her head, he said quietly, "Its your life, too."

"I know. And I can do a lot of good as First Lady. Which I keep clinging to."

Dylan sighed. After a rocky beginning, Clay and Bailey had the best marriage hed ever seen. Bailey had told him that they still fought about things, but it was obvious to anyone watching them how much in love they were. In truth, sometimes Dylan envied them.

For a few seconds, they stared into the fire, which crackled and spit on the hearth.

"What are you thinking?" Bailey asked.

"How Im jealous that you and Clay are so close. Youre so unselfish with each other."

"I love the man to pieces. Id do anything for him."

"And he feels the same way. Which is why I think you should tell him about your misgivings."

"Maybe." She drew in a deep breath. "So, youre jealous, huh? Why dont you go out and find yourself a nice redhead, then? Its time to try again. Your divorce was years ago."

Rachels luxurious auburn hair filled his mind. And d.a.m.n it, he felt himself blush, which was stupid. Unfortunately, Bailey caught his reaction.

"Is there somebody?" She sounded like she had when she was a girl trying to wring confessions out of her big brothers about their love lives.

"No, no."

Ever intuitive, Bailey tugged him to face her. Now she was sober. "You can tell me anything, you know. And Ill keep it to myself."

"Youll tell Aidan." Those two were really close, but natural alliances had formed among all of them, and n.o.body seemed jealous of anyones relationships: Brie had an affinity for Liam, Bay and Aidan went to college together, and Dylan and Pat knew each other best.

"I wont tell Aidan. I promise, Dyl."

Man, he needed someone to discuss this with, and his sister had helped him through his ugly divorce. "You wont like it, Bay."

"Why?"

He picked up a stuffed pillow and squeezed it with nervous energy.

"Just spit it out."

"I slept with Rachel Scott." "What?"

"I knew youd be mad." Rachel had been partially responsible for Rorys kidnapping last year when she disclosed the second familys whereabouts at Keuka Lake. And there were many other things shed done to hurt those he loved.

"Im not mad. Just...shocked, I guess. Youve gone after her the most for everything shes done to us. You wrote columns against her. The last one was pretty bad."

"I was p.i.s.sed as h.e.l.l. Im even more furious now."

"Oh, Dyl. She... Jesus Christ, she aired the footage on the wedding after you were with her that night?"

"Son of a b.i.t.c.h." He ran a hand through his hair. "How could I have been so stupid?"

"What were you thinking?"

"Well, first Id had a few Jamesons on the rocks at the wedding, but I wasnt drunk, so I cant use that as an excuse. Id seen her at the church, as you know. I was feeling sentimental after the wedding and...called her. Went over." He shrugged. "When she said she wanted the same thing..." His voice trailed off.

"I know what you mean about weddings. Clay and I had the best..." She cut herself off. Looks like he wasnt the only one who had great s.e.x after Aidans nuptials. "Sorry. Okay, lets a.n.a.lyze this. Shes gorgeous. You always liked a challenge in women. And she does have red hair." The fetish of all the ONeil men, though Aidan had married a blonde. "Why do you think she did it, when she knew what she was planning the next day?"

"She says she wanted to. And knew, after showing the video on TV, shed never get another chance. f.u.c.k it, Bay, I even believed that."

"Why? Youre usually more cynical about women."

"I have no idea. Shes gotten into my head. I think for longer than Ive admitted."

They heard the front door open and male voices. Clay first. "Some private time..." One of the agents. "All right, I understand..."

Bailey leaned over and whispered to Dylan, "Dont tell him, either."

"What, you think Im nuts?" Clay had a vendetta going with Rachel that he was adamant about.

They both stood.

His brother-in-law entered the room and stopped halfway to the couch. "What are you two whispering about?"

"Nothing." Bailey circled Dylan, flung herself at Clay and said, "Come and sit with us."

After kissing Bailey, Clay shook Dylans hand and dropped down wearily in a leather chair. "Get me a drink, woman." He grabbed her hand and kissed it. "Please."

Later that night, Clay pulled back the covers on their bed and smiled down at his wife. The room was cool and dim, but he could still see Baileys face. "You look tired."

"So do you." Bailey patted the bed. "Stretch out and we can talk."

He climbed in and pulled up the covers. "Kids okay?"

"Rory asks me and the agents where you are all the time, what youre doing. Dylan tried a simple explanation but Rory didnt really get it." She smiled. "Angel wants Daddy to put her to bed."

"My sweetie." Crooking his arm and resting his head on his hand, he brushed his thumb over her lips. "And hows Mom?" "Sad about Mark. Tell me what you didnt say in front of Dylan."

"Hes extremely weak, though the press secretary isnt divulging that. Hes hooked up to a urinary catheter, has a tube in his nose and is on a strong blood thinner. Truthfully, he looks like h.e.l.l. What is it your mother says? Like death warmed over."

"Liam and Mitch found some research that said recovery from this surgery is likely, as long as the aneurysm doesnt burst, which his didnt."

"Thankfully. But h.e.l.l be out of commission at least two to three months."

Baileys face shadowed. He caught the nuance because he was watching her for her reaction.

"Ill be acting president until then." He shook his head. "I wasnt ready for this."

"Were never ready for tragedy."

"How about you? Are you up for being First Lady for a while?"

She gave him a phony smile. "Of course. Youll do your patriotic duty. Im on board for that."

"What if Mark doesnt fully recover? Or chooses not to run again? Are you on board for that, too?"

"Yes." She moved in closer and he could smell the bath lotion she used. "Well do whatever you want."

"Honey, you need to tell me what you want."

"I want you to be happy."

He stared down at his wife. She was lying through her teeth. Bailey hadnt wanted to be a senators wife, or the Second Lady. Clay knew in his gut that she wouldnt ever choose to be the presidents wife.

Torn, he thought of extending the conversation. But why? If Mark died, Clay would have no choice in leading the country. So, instead of more talk, he turned onto his back and pulled her over him. "I love you, Bay. So much."

"I love you, too."

Which was true. And that would cause her to do what she didnt want to do. What shed been doing for years. He had to stop thinking about that or hed go crazy. So he cupped her head and brought her mouth to his.

Chapter 3.

CitySights "KPRAY or KPREY?

"While driving back to New York today, I heard yet another radio station offering 'free religious music with no commercials. Instead, each break in the show is accompanied by testimonials and a request for money, which will in turn keep the station running. The ostensible purpose is to bring the word of G.o.d to believers and enhance their spiritual experiences. Over one hundred donations are made per day by ordinary people who have found or will find G.o.d through the station. As an ancillary business, they offer specials, such as providing a toy and note to children whose parents are incarcerated. The normal request to listeners is forty dollars per month. And herein the problem lies.

"As a lifelong Catholic, I believe in G.o.d. I do not believe G.o.d wants us to proselytize through a radio station like this. We have churches to fill this role. We have social agencies that need money to provide to those less fortunate, regardless of creed. Instead of the forty dollars a month that is ubiquitously asked for to fund the show, isnt it better to donate to organizations that directly help individuals who, for instance, need milk and diapers for their babies?

"The program contends it converts people and inspires them to commit to a belief system and make a pact with G.o.d. My question is: who sets up this belief system (i.e. G.o.d will return to earth, raise up the righteous and condemn the 'lost to h.e.l.l)? The answer is-the stations belief system, which this writer doesnt agree with.

"'People dont have to support the station, you might say. 'They have free will and choose to do this, the board of directors might contend. My retort is that people seeking respite from their misery are preyed upon by these types of radio shows. And I dont think thats right.

"As always, post your comments below, or send me a note at And, a note to KPRAY: schedule some time with me and Ill give you a chance to explain yourself."

Every morning, Rachel sat in the back of her townhouse, in the breakfast nook, and scanned the newspapers. Daily news would affect her evening show. She preferred hard copies because she could speed-read easier. Unfortunately, today, six days after the wedding, she was unable to keep herself from going to CitySights online. She knew Dylan had been in D.C. with his sister, and the vision of him cuddling little Angel to his chest as he breached the throng of reporters outside the Wainwright townhouse remained with her. As did the way hed touched her, the Irish sentiments he murmured when he was inside her. Though shed come to realize that sleeping with him was more than foolish, knowing that the very next day shed betray him, she couldnt forget what had happened. And all this despite the diatribe he wrote against her before he left.

Finding his column, sipping her coffee, she stared at the photo next to his words. His hair was stylishly messy, and those blue, blue eyes grabbed her attention. Too bad the photo didnt show his wide shoulders, his muscular biceps. Hed sell a lot more subscriptions.

As she read, her blood pressure spiked. Why in h.e.l.l would he give a radio station that he obviously disliked a second chance, but when shed asked for one, that day shed visited his office and before anything happened between them, he refused to investigate her further? And he hadnt offered a second one to her after his recent scathing column about her, either.

d.a.m.n, him. She picked up her phone. And texted...

I know youre back. I want to see you.

She waited. Not long...

You got nerve, doll. No way in h.e.l.l.

Ill come to the bar when youre working and you know it will upset your family.

A longer wait...

Youre a b.i.t.c.h. A restaurant near here, Lincolns, for coffee. If youre not there in fifteen minutes, Im leaving.

Shocked, Rachel sat back and breathed out heavily. Wow, she hadnt expected him to agree. At least shed dressed and done her hair and makeup after a yoga cla.s.s this morning, so she flew out the door in five minutes, shivered in the cold morning and grabbed a cab; thankfully, she arrived at Lincolns on time. She saw him sitting at a window table, working on his phone.

Entering the small and homey establishment with the scents of coffee and fresh dough permeating the air, she made her way to him. When she reached the table, he looked up. At first, he just stared. Again, his hair was tousled as if he hadnt combed it, and a dark-and d.a.m.n s.e.xy-beard shadowed his jaw. Then he gave that smile of his, which could be sweet and tender or mean and sarcastic. Today it was the latter. "Doesnt it get old?"

"What?"

"Being Miss America all the time." He checked his watch. "This early?"

Her smile was syrupy. "Nope. Love it." Removing her short sheepskin coat, placing it on the back of the chair, she sat. A waiter came over and she ordered coffee. She was in the process of calming herself when he reached over and tipped her chin. "Too much makeup. You dont need it."

"Dear G.o.d, is that a compliment?"

He spoke, as if he was driven to. "I suppose. You gotta know youre just as pretty without it."

"If we can leave my appearance for a moment, I wanted to tell you I read your column today."

"So did thousands of others. I have a following." Lazing back, he hooked his arm over the chair, making his green sweatshirt with the Baileys Pub logo stretch across his chest. "Whatd you think of it?"

"Solid points. Good queries. But I wonder why youll give KPRAY a second chance to convince you of their validity and not me."