in a women’s featherweight division for a time, and now she trained her own fighters at the gym that she ran downtown.
But I know karate, Bailey told herself hollowly, advancing on them with a confidence she didn’t feel. Besides, I made it to the finish in the Boston Marathon last year. I can probably outrun her.
“If you’re here to relay an apology from my big brother, tell him to forget it,” Ainslie snapped. She jabbed at the elevator call button impatiently. “And tell him his damned elevator’s just as unreliable as he is,” she added with an edge of frustration.
“He’s not unreliable, Auntie Lee.” Tara’s bottom lip stuck out pugnaciously. “What’s your problem with Uncle Sully, anyway? You didn’t even let him explain why he hadn’t shown up!”
“I didn’t need to hear his explanation. The O’Connell women have heard enough explanations from the Sullivan men over the years, and I’m about to end the tradition right here and now. It’s her birthday, for crying out loud.” Ainslie directed this last sentence to Bailey, and her eyes were glittering with unshed tears. “Maybe you two had a hot date or something, but I would have thought even Terry would consider a young girl’s thirteenth birthday dinner a little more important than his latest conquest.”
“I’m not his latest conquest,” Bailey finally managed to interject. “I’m last year’s,” she added dryly. “Which means that whatever you’ve got against him, I’d normally be on your side, except that this time it really wasn’t his fault. One of his men went missing, and the police were here questioning him up until half an hour ago. You’re lucky he didn’t have to phone you from jail to make bail for him.”
Ainslie’s stunned gaze went past her, and Bailey turned to find Sullivan behind her. “It’s true, Lee, but that’s no excuse. I should have phoned you. I’m sorry.”
“Who’s missing?” His sister ignored his apology.
“Hank Jackson.” He grimaced. “You’ve heard me speak of him—he’s been with the agency since before I took it over from Uncle Sean. We think it might be tied to a case that Bailey was involved with.”
“Bailey?” The navy gaze, not quite as dark as her brother’s, switched back to Bailey and widened. “As in Flowers?”
“Cut it out, sis.” Sullivan’s tone was sharp, but it softened as he turned to Tara. “What a babe,” he said admiringly. “New jeans, new top…” He paused and peered closely at the pink-cheeked young face. “And if I’m not mistaken, my little sister’s finally caved in on the no-makeup rule now that you’re officially a teenager. Is that eye shadow you’re wearing?”
“Eye glimmer.” Tara’s blush deepened. “And lip gloss, too.”
“Only for special occasions, and I’d better not catch you wearing it to school yet, young lady,” warned Ainslie with mock gruffness. “The nuns would have my hide.”
The elevator chose that moment to open, and on impulse Bailey turned to Sullivan. “I should leave. We can go over the Plowright file tomorrow and decide where we’re going to take it from here,” she said swiftly. “Why don’t you three keep that pizza date you had planned?”
“I’ve got a better idea.” Ainslie looked up at her brother, and before her features assumed their normally wry expression, Bailey saw a flash of loving concern pass across her face. “Why don’t we order in here? It’ll still be a party, but you and Bailey will have a chance to look over the file and make plans. I know you’re worried about Hank, Terry,” she added quietly.
“Cool!” Tara’s eyes lit up with excitement. “While we’re waiting for the pizza, can I log on to the Internet on your computer and e-mail my friends, Uncle Sully?”
“I guess so.” Sullivan raised a dubious eyebrow. “But from now on you’re going to have to use your own at home, sweetheart. I can’t have you on mine all the time.”
“But I don’t have one at—” The inexpertly glossed mouth dropped open and the green eyes, beautiful despite the smear of shine that decorated each lid, widened. “You got me a computer for my birthday?” she squealed incredulously. “Oh, Uncle Sully, you’re the greatest!”
She wrapped her arms around him, almost knocking him backward, and over her head he grinned weakly at his sister. “Don’t be mad, Lee. I know you said it was too extravagant, but I wanted to. I’ll cover the Internet charges, and I arranged for an extra phone line so yours wouldn’t be tied up all the time. I hope you like lime,” he said to the top of Tara’s head. She was still hugging him. “Because that’s the color I got. I thought it would go with those cat’s-eyes of yours, sugar.”
“I love lime! Is it here? Can we see it?” Tara turned to Ainslie, her face alight. “Do you mind phoning for the pizza while Uncle Sully shows me my computer, Auntie Lee? Double cheese, no anchovies, and pineapple on half, okay?”
“Only because it’s your birthday.” Ainslie shuddered, and then flapped her hand at her brother and her goddaughter. “Go on, Bailey and I can manage to order a pizza, I guess. I’ll tell Martin at the security desk downstairs we’re expecting a delivery.”
“Order one for him and Mike, too.” Fishing his wallet out of his pocket with difficulty, since Tara was still clinging to him like a limpet, Sullivan grinned. “But ask them first if they want pineapple on theirs. Their palates might not be sophisticated enough to handle it.”
“My palate’s not sophisticated enough. Or maybe it’s just that I’m not a teenager anymore,” Ainslie said wryly to Bailey as she slipped behind Moira’s desk and punched in a number on the phone.
From Sullivan’s office a couple of doors down the hall came a series of high-pitched exclamations, interspersed with the deeper tones of Sullivan explaining the features of Tara’s new computer to her. Ainslie caught Bailey’s amused expression and grinned herself.
“He’s a pushover, but then so am I when it comes to her,” she said ruefully. “She’s a good kid. I just hope I’m raising her the way her mother would have wanted me to.”
Within a matter of minutes, she’d placed the orders. The more subdued murmurs now coming from Sullivan’s office seemed to signify that he and Tara had passed the bells-and-whistles stage of the computer demonstration and were now getting down to exploring its more complicated capabilities. Ainslie tipped her head to one side, listening.
“Nah,” she said decisively. “I’m not going in. I might have been able to help them get it out of the box, but that’s about where my expertise ends. No need to give them a chance to feel too superior to me.”
“It sounds like they’re getting along fine without us,” Bailey agreed with a smile. “Tara’s your adopted daughter?”
They entered the conference room and Ainslie pulled out one of the comfortably upholstered chairs that ringed the massive table. With a sigh she sat down, leaning back and propping her crossed legs on the gleaming tabletop. Her pose was almost identical to the one that Sullivan had been assuming when she’d first walked in on him in his office this morning, Bailey noted with amusement. It seemed that the two of them were alike in some ways, at least. She sat down herself, pushing the Plowright file aside for the moment.
“Her mom was my cousin.” Ainslie raked back her glossy black bangs and met Bailey’s gaze. “She got pregnant when she was a teenager herself, but instead of giving the baby up for adoption she insisted on keeping it. Everybody told her she was crazy, even the teenaged father, who promptly moved with his family out of state. But when Tara was born the whole O’Connell clan fell in love with her.” Her smile was touched with sadness. “Seven years later Babs was gone. Leukemia,” she said briefly. “It was as if she’d known she only had one chance to be a mother, and she’d made the most of it. Tara was her pride and joy.”
“She must have been very close to you to leave her daughter in your care,” Bailey said gently.
“Her