And it finally registered—his mam knew Lyse. They knew each other. Lyse hadn’t merely been watching Siobhan; she’d inserted herself into his mam’s life.
Something cold washed over him. Cold and lethal. In that moment Lyse’s eyes met his, a myriad of emotions playing across her face: fear, pleading, resignation. She didn’t want him telling the truth. She wanted him to lie like she had, to let her go on fooling his mam like she’d fooled everyone at Global First.
No fecking way. His mam deserved the truth. And Lyse deserved the consequences.
“Do you know who she is, Mam?”
Siobhan gave him the smile that was so like his own. “Of course. Lyse Camden.”
He shook his head, refusing to look Lyse’s way. “No, not Lyse Camden. Lyse Sheppard. She’s a computer hacker who used to be working at Global First. The woman who almost got me killed two months ago. And she’s been watching you.”
Chapter Seven
Siobhan would never look at her the same.
She’d known the second she’d looked into Fionn’s eyes that he would tell his mother who she was. That didn’t mean she hadn’t hoped. But no matter how much she protested that her friendship with Siobhan had been by chance, had been genuine, Fionn would never believe her. And neither would his mother now. Who would believe a woman with Lyse’s past over their own son?
Siobhan was staring at Fionn, a deep vee between her brows. “What—”
A loud knock on the front door cut off her question. Fionn immediately went into warrior mode, one hand reaching for the small of his back. Lyse caught the move from the corner of her eye and startled. It used to be common for her coworkers to be armed. After so many weeks in Ireland, guns were a forgotten accessory. An illegal one too.
Trust Fionn to know where to get one.
Siobhan started toward the door.
“No, Mam,” Fionn warned, rushing forward to hold her back. “Let me be checking first.”
Siobhan wasn’t a woman to be bossed around, but neither was she as stubborn as her son—she let him go first. When Fionn eased the curtain on the window aside and peered out, a frown appeared on his face. He dropped the curtain back into place. “A man in a garda uniform?”
The softest, sweetest smile curved Siobhan’s lips, one anyone who knew her would recognize. “Mack.” This time she moved toward the door with determination, ignoring Fionn’s hissed warning. Seconds later she was allowing Mack Ivers into the house.
The man was tall and muscular, much like Fionn, with thick black hair graying at the temples and blue eyes that held a seriousness tonight that Lyse hadn’t seen before. The navy coat and slacks of his garda uniform only emphasized his height and the training so evident in the way he moved. A few years older than Siobhan, he’d been a cop most of his life; Lyse knew because she’d run a background check on him not long after she arrived and realized his involvement with Siobhan. There wasn’t much that could be hidden from her, at least not on a computer—Siobhan was proof of that.
Mack was a good guy. He was also Siobhan’s lover. This should be interesting.
“Evenin’, acushla,” Mack said as he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. Lyse noticed he turned the lock before taking Siobhan in his arms. Their lips met, Mack’s broad palms flattening on Siobhan’s back to bring her closer. Lyse averted her eyes. The way they touched was always so intimate, making her feel as if she was intruding, a voyeur on their private moments. Seeing them together made her ache for what could have been. Except that was an illusion, wasn’t it? There was no “could have been,” not with Fionn or any other man. She was alone.
“Who is this, Mam?”
Fionn’s sharp question broke the moment between Siobhan and Mack. The older man narrowed his eyes on Fionn, reminding Lyse of an alpha wolf staring down a rude pup. Given the stubborn look in Fionn’s eyes, he wasn’t in the mood to back down.
Siobhan blushed, seeming to realize that her son had just watched her kiss her lover. Leading him by the hand into the living area, she said, “Mack, this is Fionn, my son.” She glanced between the two men. “Fionn, this is Mack Ivers. He’s my…” Her blush deepened.
Wanting to intervene before Mack and Fionn got into a pissing contest, Lyse supplied, “He’s her boyfriend.”
Mack’s gaze found hers across the room, and he gave her a little smile. That was the only kind of smile he gave to anyone but Siobhan, and something inside Lyse basked in his approval. He’d been nothing but kind to her the last couple of months. That would change soon enough, she knew. Fionn was determined to see everything in a bad light, to ruin what she’d built here. Why was she still fighting him? Was it better to just give in, let the dream of a normal life die?
“Did you check him out?” Fionn asked her.
He already knew the answer. She’d done what she needed to, to keep Siobhan safe. She wouldn’t apologize for it, even if she wished it wasn’t out here in the open. “He’s clean.”
Mack frowned. “What are you talking about, Lyse?”
Siobhan led him to the couch and settled herself on the wide arm, Mack standing tall beside her. His arm came around her waist, urging her close. Safe.
Lyse rubbed at the ache in her chest. “I—”
“Lyse’s specialty is hacking,” Fionn threw out. His tone sounded like she specialized in terrorism. She was getting so damn tired of that.
“Her specialty?” Mack asked.
Lyse opened her mouth to reply, to somehow explain without sounding like she was the bad guy, but Fionn cut her off. He seemed to be doing that a lot tonight. When had he become such a bastard?
Oh, right. When she’d set a bomb that came far too close to killing him.
“Mam, we need to be headin’ on.”
“I don’t understand,” Siobhan said, looking between the two of them. “Explain to me what’s going on. And how you know each other.”
Fionn’s gaze flicked to Mack.
“He’s not going away,” Siobhan told him, voice brooking no argument. “That may be hard for you to accept, but it’s the truth. He already knows everything.”
Fionn fisted his hands, the knuckles going white.
“Stop right there.” Siobhan shot a mom glare at her son that made even Lyse swallow hard. “I’m an adult, Fionn. I make my own decisions on who to trust. You’ve been gone a long time. We both know why, and I love you for that, but I’m not the broken woman you had to protect when you first brought me here.”
“I told you, Fionn; he’s clean,” Lyse said.
He threw her a dark look, seeming to need a place to spend his anger. “Like I can trust your word.”
The response sent a shaft through her already aching heart. She rubbed at the spot, hating that she couldn’t hide how much his words hurt her, not from him and not from their audience.
“What the feck does that mean?” Mack barked at Fionn. At least someone wanted to defend her, even if it was only temporary.
“Fionn, explain.”
He eyed Mack, taking his time weighing whatever question was in his mind, before answering his mother. “Santo Ferrina Jr. is alive.”
Just throw it out there, why don’t you? She knew why he’d done it. This whole situation was way out of Fionn’s control, and he was fighting that any way he knew how. But still…
Siobhan’s gasp echoed in the room. “What?”
“How?” Mack asked. “I thought—”
“We did too.” Fionn rubbed a hand over his tight jaw. The rasp of his five-o’clock shadow against his knuckles whispered in her ears. “But he’s back. And we have reason to believe he’s working with the Irish Cartel.”
Mack blanched, his grip on Siobhan tightening.
“He’s not working with them,” Lyse put in. “He’s leading them.”
“How do you know?” Mack asked.
If she couldn’t beat it, why not own it? She held up her hands. “Hacker. A very good hacker.” One of the best, actually. It was the truth,
just not in the way Fionn wanted it to seem.
“During her…observations…Lyse noticed someone suspicious watching your house,” Fionn said. “We’ve traced him back to the cartel and Ferrina. We need to get you out of here, Mam.”
“I’ll not be going anywhere.”
“What?”
“You heard, son.” Siobhan’s spine straightened, though she stayed in the circle of Mack’s arm. “I’ll not be leaving.”
“It’s really not safe here, Siobhan,” Lyse said. Much as she hated to tear Siobhan from her life, she’d seen what men like this could do.
The look Siobhan sent her was tender, just like always. When would that change? “I appreciate your advice, dear, more than you know, and my brain’s not addled. I know we have to come up with a plan to protect us all, but I’m not leaving North Quigley.” Her eyes darkened. “I gave up too much in the past. I have a life here now, and love”—she glanced up at Mack—“and I’ll not be leaving all that behind.”
Mack shook his head, his mouth tight. “I’m afraid I’ll be after agreeing with your son here, Siobhan.”
“Mack—”
He brought a hand up. “Just hear me out,” he said, the softness of his tone in direct contrast to the command. “You shouldn’t have to be going into hiding because someone decided to target you, but we all know we don’t always get what we want.” His hand clasped hers and settled it on her thigh. “I stopped by tonight because an informant contacted me. It seems there’s been some whispering in certain parts of the village, someone asking about you, your past, your routine. We have to be keeping you safe above all else. I propose we go out to my house for the night. Fionn and I can better protect you there, and tomorrow morning we can drive in to the station and form a plan, yeah?”
Fionn could take lessons from Mack in diplomacy. Of course, he’d never had an issue charming the panties off any woman he talked to—sometimes literally. With her, and now with his mother, were the only times Lyse had ever seen him lose that easy appeal. Maybe it was a sign of extreme emotion. Love, in Siobhan’s case; hate in hers.
A tingle at the back of her nose warned her that tears were on their way. She sniffed it back.
“All right,” Siobhan was saying. Mack glanced at Fionn, a brow arched in question. Fionn nodded.
“Go pack a bag, love,” Mack told her. Siobhan stood.
“I’ll help,” Lyse said. Maybe Siobhan would let her borrow some sleep clothes, at least. Everyone else was coming prepared, while she only had her keys and the clothes on her back.
“No.” Fionn snagged her wrist as she passed him. “You’ll be staying here.”
Siobhan stopped at the entrance to the hall and looked back. “Let her go, Fionn.”
He hesitated, and Lyse’s tears threatened to come back. She glanced up at him. “I’m just going to help her pack—nothing else. I won’t leave, I promise.”
Fionn narrowed his eyes as if he could laser through any bullshit to see the truth of her statement. But no matter what he saw, he wouldn’t believe her, would he?
Her shoulders slumped.
Surprisingly Fionn’s fingers eased their grip. Leaning close, he murmured in her ear, “Don’t make me come after you. You won’t be liking it.”
She dropped her gaze, not wanting Mack and Siobhan, both staring avidly, to see how much his words hurt. “I know.”
He dropped her hand. Lyse hated the way she scuttled across the room to join Siobhan, but the response was beyond her control. Maybe while they were gone Mack could talk some sense into Fionn. Maybe. Her life seemed to be built on hopes and maybes lately.
She hurried to follow Siobhan into her bedroom.
Chapter Eight
Mack lived a few miles out from the village, far enough that forests and the sounds of nature took the place of streetlamps and car engines. The cottage was gray stone, surrounded by woods and the sharp rise of a hill at the back, but the land directly around the house was cleared and well lit. Fionn hoped that meant the man was after having a sensible security system as well.
He took the flank as the four of them entered the house. “Sorry it’s dark,” Mack said. “Been at the station all day. Fionn, stay with them while I do a sweep, yeah?”
“I’ll stay.”
Siobhan moved into the living room to close curtains. The house was bigger than Fionn had been expecting from the outside, but then, Mack was a big man. If he was anything like Fionn, he felt a bit claustrophobic in the typical Irish cottage.
His mam walked over as Mack returned to the living area, walking straight into the man’s arms. Watching them kiss sent a strange unease through him. It wasn’t terribly intimate, a mere brush of mouths between lovers, but Fionn had spent so many years with the memories of his parents together playin’ through his head—probably more so than most, searching for the clues to his father’s choices that he never found. Seeing his mam in another man’s arms…it would take some getting used to. His parents had been together since Siobhan was nineteen, and though Robert hadn’t been the man Fionn had thought he was, he had truly loved his wife. Fionn wasn’t juvenile enough to think she would be alone the rest of her life, but Mack was a totally different kind of man. One that obviously made his mam happy if the smile she gave him was anything to go by.
“The master is upstairs,” Mack said, indicating the staircase next to the hall. “We’ll be there.” He paused as if waiting for Fionn to argue, smiling when it didn’t happen. “There’s a fold-out in the den and a guest room down that hall. You can take one and Lyse the other.”
That, he would be protesting. “We’ll both be in the guest room.”
Three expressions of surprise—Mack’s arched brow, his mam’s open mouth, and the color leaching from Lyse’s face—all met his announcement, but he refused to back down. Lyse was good at running, and he would not be taking that chance. Ignoring the reaction, he jerked his chin toward the panel next to the front door. “Walk me through the security system, yeah?”
“How about some tea?” Siobhan asked. When he glanced her way, she was ushering Lyse toward the kitchen, leaving the men behind. Mack showed him how to work the system, then walked him through the house.
“I’ll walk the perimeter outside,” Fionn said when they returned to the front door. Though they had a clear view of anyone trying to approach the house—a fact Fionn hardily approved—he was wanting to be familiar with the terrain if anything occurred during the night. The air was fierce cold as he canvassed, but he took his time despite the temperature. As he moved around the side and into the backyard, he watched his mam talk to Lyse across the dining table before Mack moved into the kitchen to close the curtains. The women seemed intent, but Lyse’s mouth was firmly closed. Not wanting his mam to know the truth, perhaps. She was needing to know, though, and he’d be certain she did.
Back inside, he re-armed the security system, retrieved his pack, and headed for the guest room. Before he could reach the door, his mam called to him. Pivoting, he stopped and waited for her.
Siobhan’s face showed the strain of confusion. “I’m wanting to know what’s going on with Lyse.”
A flicker of the anger he had carried for two months sparked in his chest. “A couple of months ago she set a bomb in our facility. When it went off, Deacon and I”—and Lyse—“were too close to avoid a singein’.”
Siobhan shook her head, her eyes wide. “Why would she do that? It makes no sense, Fionn. The girl I know—”
“That’s just it—she’s not the girl you know. Not the woman I thought I knew. She cannot be trusted.”
“If that’s true,” his mam said, “tell me why she did it. Tell me so I can be understanding her.”
Fionn’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not caring why she did it. What I care about is that I can’t trust her, not with your life.”
“Fionn—”
He leaned down, absorbing her sweet scent as he hugged. Discussing this further would do no good, at least not tonight. “Good nigh
t, Mam.”
He turned to walk away, but her grip on his arm forced him to a halt. Or tried to, anyway. He looked down at Siobhan, burying his amusement at the thought.
His mam was deadly serious. “Don’t hurt her, Fionn. I don’t know what happened, but I can tell you are angry. Don’t do anything you’ll be regretting later.”
He had done a couple of things he’d been after regretting since he got here. When he was around Lyse, the anger took over his mind and overrode his control in ways he’d never allowed with another target, especially a woman. Looking into his mam’s eyes, the memories of those actions set off a hit of shame.
“I promise not to be hurting her,” he said.
Siobhan relaxed, and he wondered if she was truly thinking he would do something physical. He might not be the man who’d left Ireland a decade ago, but he hadn’t changed that much.
The memory of Lyse’s body forced between him and the cabinet, knowing he was grinding her against the counter in ways that would be painful, returned. He sighed and rubbed a hand down his face. Maybe he’d changed more than he thought.
The bedroom door was cracked open, and he entered without knocking. Lyse sat on the far side of the bed, her back to him, shoulders up around her ears. He knew immediately that she’d heard the conversation with his mam, but he refused to apologize.
“Have you been to the toilet?” He dumped his pack on the floor on the side of the bed closest to the door.
Lyse turned her head, giving him her solemn, stressed profile. “No.”
“Better be going.”
Lyse nodded and left the room. By the time she returned, he was ready for her.
“C’mere.”
As she rounded the end of the bed, eyeing him warily, he took ahold of her arm and whipped a zip tie around it before she could be protesting. The sleeve of her jumper would protect her skin from the plastic. Before Lyse could react, he had her at the headboard and attached to a daisy chain of zip ties that would be keeping her on the bed but not fully restricted during the night.
Destroy Me (Southern Nights: Enigma Book 3) Page 5
