THE MORNING AFTER WASN’T PRETTY.
It was a little before noon Sunday morning when Nick, bleary-eyed from playing poker until dawn and drinking way too much beer, walked into the kitchen in search of caffeine. Noah and Michael were sitting at opposite ends of the table. Michael was reading an article on Dylan’s laptop, and Noah was slumped over the table, guzzling orange juice. Feeling dehydrated, he had already gulped down two large bottles of water. Neither Nick nor Noah had showered or shaved yet. They both felt as bad as they looked.
Michael, on the other hand, looked as though he were ready for a photo shoot. He had showered, shaved, and wore crisp khaki pants and a dark blue polo shirt. Unlike Nick and Noah, Michael had on shoes. He was the only one in the room without bloodshot eyes. But then, he’d known when to stop drinking.
Nick found a clean mug, filled it with coffee, and took a drink. Then he leaned back against the island and said, “What in God’s name was I thinking?”
Michael understood what he was asking and answered. “You thought you could keep up with the MacAlisters. A rookie mistake,” he added, flashing a grin.
“If they stayed an entire week, we’d all need liver transplants,” Noah said, his voice a scratchy whisper. “The last time I drank this much was when I was at the university, and that was a long time ago.”
“Same here,” Nick said. “I forgot how bad a hangover can be. This is brutal.” He dragged a chair out and sat down at the table. “Where is everyone?”
Michael answered. “Laurant, Kate, and Jordan left a while ago with Mom and Dad.”
“Where were they going?” Noah asked on a yawn.
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask. Michelle and Theo left for the airport real early.”
“Yeah,” Noah agreed. “I was going to bed when Theo was coming down with their luggage.”
Nick sat staring off into space while he waited for the coffee and the two aspirin he’d taken to kick in so he’d start feeling human again.
“Good afternoon,” Regan called from the doorway. She walked into the kitchen, looked at Nick and Noah, and started laughing. “Have a little too much fun last night?”
“Last night actually ended this morning,” Michael told her.
“We all stayed up way too late,” she said. “Isabel was the smart one. She left the party around eleven.”
“Why so early?” Michael asked.
“I believe Amanda had a little something to do with Isabel taking off.” She then told them about the conversation Amanda had had with Isabel.
“She said what?” Michael shouted. He was furious.
Regan patiently repeated, “Amanda asked Isabel to sing at your wedding. She said, ‘Michael and I would just love it if you did.’ According to Isabel those were Amanda’s exact words.”
“You’re engaged now?” Noah asked. “If you are, I think you should know you’re marrying a real bitch.”
Nick nodded agreement. “You don’t belong with her.”
Michael was outraged. “I’m not marrying Amanda. We haven’t been involved in a long while.
Honest to God, I don’t know what I ever saw in her.”
“She obviously isn’t ready to move on,” Nick said. “Why did you invite her to the party?”
“I didn’t.” Michael shoved the chair back and stood, muttering an expletive.
“How did Isabel react to Amanda’s question?” Nick asked.
“Yeah, what did she say?” Noah wanted to know.
“She said, ‘I don’t do weddings.’ Then she laughed.”
“That’s our girl,” Nick said.
“She’s not your girl,” Michael snapped.
“She sure as hell isn’t yours,” Noah retorted.
Dylan had been standing in the doorway listening to the conversation. Shaking his head, he looked at Michael and said, “Dumbass.”
Michael surprised everyone when he nodded agreement. He needed to talk to Isabel as soon as possible. He owed her an apology. He knew she had to be angry and hurt. The look on her face when he stupidly told her he shouldn’t have touched her said as much. Yeah, he really was a dumbass.
“As soon as she comes down, I’ll talk to her,” Michael said.
Regan shook her head. “She isn’t here. She went back to the Hamilton last night.”
Before Michael could react, Dylan asked, “How did she get back to the hotel? Did someone drive her, or did she borrow a car? Oh God, she didn’t drive . . . did she?”
“Calm down,” Regan said. “Car service drove her. Security was waiting for her, and after she was safely back in her suite, I was notified. She’s fine.”
“I’ve really got to go for a drive with this woman,” Noah said. “She can’t possibly be as bad as you say.”
The men continued to talk, but Michael wasn’t paying attention. He was thinking about Isabel. He needed to see her. His apology had to be given face-to-face. Hopefully, by the time he got to the hotel, he would find the right words to repair the damage he had done.
Regan was on her way upstairs to wake Alec and start packing for their trip back to Chicago when someone started pounding on the front door.
As soon as she opened the door, the young man blurted, “My name is Everett Redman. I’m a tech with the FBI lab, and it’s urgent that I see Special Agent Nick Buchanan. Is he here? I was told he was staying until Monday. God, I hope he’s here.”
“Yes, he is,” Regan said, and pointed the way. “He’s in the kitchen. You can—” She didn’t finish her sentence because the man was already gone.
Nick was surprised to see the tech. Everett was young and eager and brilliant in his area of expertise. He was usually laid-back, but not today. His face was red and he was panting.
Both Nick and Noah were wide awake now.
“What’s going on, Everett?” Nick asked.
Dylan looked perturbed by the intrusion. “Who is this guy?”
“His name is Everett Redman,” Noah answered. “And he’s one of the best techs in the lab.”
Everett was focused on Nick. “You need to see this, sir.”
“You drove all the way out here to . . . ,” Nick began.
“Sir, you need to see this now.” The urgency in his voice was palpable. Everett held up the flash drive Nick had given him. “I cleaned this up, got all the blood off. There wasn’t any corruption at all.
When I was checking it, I thought I’d find some audio of Isabel singing. She’s quite the rage now, and I love her voice.”
Everett was talking so fast, Nick raised a hand to slow him down. “It’s okay that you listened to her sing.”
“But that’s just it. There wasn’t any singing. This doesn’t belong to her,” he said as he handed the flash drive to Nick. “But it’s all about her, or it’s all about Grace Isabel MacKenna. There are three full pages of instructions and information,” he continued. “And there’s a timetable. It has a lot of personal information on her and her schedule, beginning with the day and time of her graduation, her stay in Boston, and her flight information to Glasgow, including a list of hotels where she’ll be staying in Scotland. You’ll notice a number in the left-hand corner of the first page. One hundred thousand. I think that’s what they’ll pay.”