would be bad for the McCoys.”
He shouldn’t care, shouldn’t want to know after all this time. But he couldn’t stop himself from finding out more about his father’s family.
He asked, “Isn’t making known their connection to me—and the circumstances surrounding it—worse? I recall seeing a fluffy report about the McCoys on one of those entertainment news shows. The reporter said the head of the family is some sort of high-moral-standards drum banger. Revealing that one of his kids—”
“Marcus was Joseph’s only child.”
Rick frowned. “His only—? Granted, the reporter was some ex–beauty queen, but I could have sworn she mentioned—”
“Alexander McCoy is actually Marcus’s first illegitimate child,” she smoothly interrupted him again.
So smoothly it took him a moment to register what she’d conveyed in that honey-slick voice of hers.
“I’m not his only?”
“No. You’re one of four men.”
“Four!” His already low opinion of the man who’d sired him crashed and burned.
He had three half siblings. But they would never be the brothers to him that his fellow Marines were.
The lady lawyer coolly shifted the file in front of her. “While my purpose here is to—”
“I know what your damn purpose is, Ms. Hayes,” he said, doing some interrupting of his own, but not nearly as smoothly as she had. The story he’d thought he’d known was turning out to be even worse. He might as well have it all. “But the only thing I want from you is what you know about my father.”
LYNN HAYES COULD ONLY stare at the compelling, seething man standing stiffly before her, his hands fisted at his sides, the letter he should have considered his salvation crumpled in one big, strong hand. His reaction to not only the letter but to her presence stunned her. She didn’t like being stunned, and she needed every ounce of her self-control not to let the unwelcome feeling show. She couldn’t afford to mess this up. Everything she’d worked so hard for to this point depended on success.
She looked back down at the file she’d acquired from the base commander—Joseph McCoy’s connections never ceased to amaze and inspire—that detailed a military career epitomizing United States Marine Corps values. Major Rick Branigan had been awarded several medals, including a Purple Heart for injuries sustained in the first days of full-scale military action in Afghanistan. Injuries that, while in no way debilitating, now kept him from combat assignments but hadn’t made him want out.
By all accounts, Major Branigan was indeed one of the best and the brightest, having achieved his current rank mere months ago and having had a spotless record, even before joining the Corps.
So why would he throw it all away by driving drunk, then fleeing the scene of an accident he’d caused?
Some people—people like her parents—just didn’t realize how good they had it. They cared only for the buzz of the moment. Then, when they finally screwed up big and had everything taken away, they could only stand there with blank looks on their faces.
Only, Major Branigan didn’t have a blank look on his handsome face. His classic McCoy features—strong jaw, aristocratic nose (though he had clearly busted his at one time) and arresting, deep blue eyes—radiated emotions he was visibly trying to contain. Emotions that were at odds with the Marine Corps poster boy he’d first appeared to be—complete with the Corps’s emblem tattooed on his bulging left biceps.
Definitely not the one Lynn had expected. Personally, she would have given anything to find out she didn’t really belong to the family she’d been born into. A family devoid of love and support. But she couldn’t blame him for wanting to hear about his connection to the McCoys rather than about what she could do for him.
Still, she hesitated. “I’m not sure it’s my place to tell you what I know about the Lost Millionaires.” She wasn’t one of the McCoys’ advisors. Yet.
His rigid stance collapsed under the weight of his incredulity. “Lost Millionaires?”
“That’s what Joseph called you all while coordinating efforts to track you down after learning of your existence when Marcus’s will was read last Wednesday, June twelfth.”
His eyes slid closed. “Just tell me.”
She refolded her hands. “While none of this is for public consumption, mind you—”
“Imagine that.”
“Yes, well…”
He opened his eyes, and she fought the unusual urge to squirm beneath his hard, blue gaze.
Something furry brushed against her bare shin and made her jump. She glanced down in time to see a cat in the guise of a small ring-tailed lemur, its eyes as startlingly blue as its owner’s, cozying up to her. “You have a cat.”
“Yes, I have a cat.”
Momentarily derailed by the reality of a macho military type like him owning something so…fluffy, she just stared at it. It stared back.
“You were saying?” Major Branigan’s deep voice returned her focus.
She shifted her leg out of the way and met his equally inscrutable stare. “Apparently, Marcus McCoy indulged in several short-lived, clandestine relationships that resulted in children being born—all boys thus far, interestingly enough—”
“And he paid each mother a million dollars to keep the identity of her illegitimate baby’s father a secret, even from the kids themselves, right? Or was my mother simply a better negotiator than the rest when it came to her ‘consulting fee’?”
The pain in his sharp tone made her stomach tighten.
“No—” Lynn was forced to clear her throat against her unexpected and unprecedented empathy. Why in the heck should she feel for him? His mom had scored herself a butt-load of security.
All her mother had ever scored was her next high—Lynn blinked to cut off the thought and refocus. No ties, no limits.
She lifted her chin. “No,” she repeated. “All the women were paid the same sum and given the same conditions.”
His stance relaxed almost imperceptibly. “And this Alexander McCoy…?”
“Actually the maid’s son. Raised by the McCoys to believe he was Marcus’s brother.”
“So much for the McCoy stores’ motto—‘Don’t trust it if it’s not from the real McCoy.’”
Worried about the distaste in his voice, she nodded slowly.
“Unbelievable. At least my mom was always straight up with me about the circumstances surrounding why my father wanted to remain anonymous and where the money she’d used to start her architecture firm had come from.” He shook his fist holding the letter, eyeing it. “Admirable bunch.”
The McCoys were, but Lynn let his sarcasm pass and simply lifted a
