Bernie O'Shea

A WILD IRISH ROGUE
Bernie O'Shea grinned at his buddy as they maneuvered around the pickups and aging cars already crowding the street in front of an older ranch-style house. Looked like every off-duty cop in the county was here. "Ah, Denny, we're gonna have fun tonight. I can feel it in my Irish bones."

TEMPTS TROUBLE ONE TIME TOO MANY
Bernie sat chained in the back of a police cruiser on the way to the county jail and arraignment in front of a judge, cursing his fiery Irish temper. He had no intention of accepting Randall Weston's "offer," but he could have played along for a while to gain more details of the baby-selling scheme.

AND COMES FACE TO FACE WITH THE CONSEQUENCES
Bernie wondered if his grandfather had come to call or just sent the attorney. Part of him wanted to see his grandparents, but he was also ashamed to face them with what had happened. However, the same Irish stubbornness that drove him to take risks gave him the backbone to face the consequences. So he took a deep breath and squared his shoulders...As the lock of the door clicked behind him, Bernie stared at a stranger with slicked back hair and an expensive suit lounging in one of the hard wooden chairs. Harry Latimer eyed Bernie critically. "You got your mangy Irish hide in a bit of trouble, son."

WHO'S A FRIEND?
"Liam O'Leary, a fellow Irishman, just wanting to talk." The man held out a hand. "...Latimer said you had more Irish than to wallow in self-pity, but guess he was wrong."

AND WHO'S AN ENEMY?
"You got balls, O'Shea, but I'm not sure about brains. First you spit in Weston's face when he offers you easy money. Then you beat a rap for killing a woman, only to investigate yourself for that same charge. I'd take the money and leave the country." The man shook his head. "By the way, thanks for the backup." ...When Aaron Swaggerty drove away, Bernie figured the man offered some smart advice. But his damn Irish sense of justice wouldn't leave this case alone.