He reached for her then, one hand on her hip, one knotting in her hair. “Give me a minute, love.” Breathing deep, he opened his eyes and stared at the sight before him—Lyse impaled on his cock, her legs spread wide, skin mottled with red where he’d taken his pleasure. He stared at her, and something deep inside him shifted, ached, tore apart.
“Lyse?” He slid back, then thrust, a gentle rhythm; his heart couldn’t bear more than that.
Lyse tilted her head back into the hand grabbing her hair. “Tell me what you need, love.”
Love. It was the first time she’d called him that. The word threatened to decimate what was left of his soul. “I need you,” he said, keeping up the rhythm. “I need you more than I ever thought I’d need anyone.” He let go of her hair to grasp her hips, tilting her until the base of his cock hit her clit. “But I won’t keep you.”
“What?” She tried to turn, but he held her in place, refusing to let go. If he saw her face, he wouldn’t be able to do this, and he had to. He loved her too much to do anything else.
“I’m letting you go, Lyse.” Another thrust, another cry as his cock sent a shaft of pleasure through her body. “I’m not taking you back to the States with me. I won’t let them hurt you. Tomorrow, after this is all over, I’m letting you go.”
“Fionn, you can’t—”
“Shh.” He picked up the pace, put all his force behind his hips, driving into her again and again until Lyse’s protests were lost in the need for orgasm. He pushed her over the edge with the press of a finger on her clit, then finally, finally gave himself the gift of oblivion.
Chapter Thirty
He’d almost killed her last night. Not with the sex, though that had torn her apart in ways she hadn’t known were possible. It was him telling her he’d let her go when this was all over. That had been too much.
And yet she hadn’t answered. The future she had hoped for, the one she’d fantasized about all those years ago—that would never happen, not now. Not after what she’d done. Ironic that the thing she’d hoped would save him would now be what pulled them apart. If she went back to the States, Global First would prosecute her. There was no avoiding that. But if she continued running, she’d never stop.
And the slim chance that she could have some kind of future with Fionn? That would be gone forever.
This morning he’d greeted her with hot coffee. Already dressed, he’d gone into soldier mode, where she couldn’t reach him. The silence as she dressed and ate hadn’t been oppressive, though. More like…resigned.
It definitely wasn’t where she wanted to be emotionally on their last day together, but the weight of the future sat on her stomach like a boulder. From the fact that Fionn didn’t eat much either, she knew he felt the same.
The drive out to the estate was as beautiful as anywhere else in Ireland. Even the motorways—interstates in the US—were lined with lush views, but deep in the country— She’d never realized there were so many shades of green in existence. The beauty carried through smaller and smaller villages and narrow roads cutting through the forest until they reached a gated lane leading into what seemed like nowhere but more woods. Fionn got out, retrieved a bolt cutter from the trunk, and made quick work of cutting the chain locking the gate. A few minutes and they were through, traveling down a tunnel of trees toward…something.
And then the trees opened up and a house appeared in the distance. “It’s gorgeous.” Lyse rolled down her window, letting in the air. The hush that greeted her was the kind you sensed when nature overwhelmed you, overpowered you. The rush against her face was fresh, cold, clean. Leaves and grass rustled in their wake. And then the trees opened and a three-story manor came more clearly into view.
“Oh, Fionn.” Traditional stone, the building held more charm than elegance, the kind of place meant to be a home rather than a museum. The perfect home for Siobhan. Whatever Robert’s faults, the man had obviously known his wife well.
Fionn parked the car in the front drive, turned the key, and stared up at the symmetric gray stone, the windows in neat row after row. His expression was unreadable, but her heart knew pain when she sensed it. She dared to reach for him but didn’t speak. The man was seeing his father’s future, the one cut off so abruptly, for the first time; she let the warmth of her hand on his arm say what no words could communicate.
After a long minute Fionn looked her way. Tears shone in his eyes, the green luminescent in the shadowed car. “Even after all this time, all he did, the way he tore us apart, I miss him so fecking much.”
She leaned hard into his shoulder, wishing she could take away the hurt. “He was your father. Of course you do.” No one ever said family was uncomplicated.
The muscle in his jaw clenched. “All this could’ve been theirs. My mam—” A shake of his head cut off the words. Lyse waited while he breathed deep, forced himself back under control. Finally a firm kiss landed on her head. “Let’s be goin’, yeah?” he said huskily.
The front of the manor had the same flat face as most of the places she’d visited while occasionally doing the tourist thing around Ireland. Small stone casements jetted out above the windows that marched like soldiers along the facade, and a shallow set of steps led to the double doors that waited at the top. If Lyse had to guess by the overgrowth of the landscaping and the encroaching woods, the place had been closed up since Robert’s death. Like the lost dreams Siobhan had shared with her husband, this place would be confiscated by the authorities, sold off; the family that was supposed to live here would never know the comfort of the strong walls around them.
Such a tragic fucking waste. Judging by the tense set of Fionn’s shoulders as they went up the stairs, he was thinking something similar.
After trying the doorknob—locked—Fionn dropped to his knees and pulled a pouch from the pocket of his fatigues.
“Lock picking?” she teased, wanting to lighten the mood, ease Fionn’s burden. “I had no idea that was a hidden talent of yours.”
His grin with half-hearted, but she could tell he was trying. “There’s very little I can’t unlock, open, plunder. I especially enjoy plundering.” He raised his eyebrows at her, and satisfaction seeped into his gaze when she laughed.
“I just bet you do.”
The lock clicked open. Fionn stood, threw a reassuring glance her way, then opened the door. Stale, musty air greeted them. Fionn passed her a flashlight, then flicked on one of his own, using it to illuminate the darkened front hall. Gesturing her forward, he said, “Ladies first.”
“No way.” Sweeping her light up his body, she grinned. “That height was meant for only one thing: taking down any potential spiderwebs we run into—or you do. As long as I don’t, I don’t care.”
Shaking his head, Fionn went first.
From the look of the dated furniture and the unfamiliar portraits on the walls, Lyse guessed that Robert had inherited everything from the previous owners. Probably waiting for Siobhan to put her personal stamp on the place. She looked at Fionn’s back. “Where should we start?”
With a methodical sweep, apparently. She shouldn’t even have needed to ask. “I came so we could split up the searching duties, you know,” she said as she followed him through the first-floor rooms.
“And let you be wanderin’ around an unfamiliar place, unprotected?” He threw an arrogant look over his shoulder—one brow raised, stern look in his eyes, mouth almost a smirk. “That was never gonna happen.”
She grinned at the American phrasing ince his back was turned. He’d sounded just like Deacon there for a moment, despite the accent. “At least tell me what to look for.”
“Locked rooms. Hidden passages. A big chest.”
“If I calculated right, that will be chests, plural.”
Fionn grunted a reply as he stepped into the kitchen.
Two hours later the house had been thoroughly searched and they’d moved on to outbuildings. At noon they stopped to eat and reevaluate.
“We’re n
ot seeing any sign of anything,” Fionn said, rubbing an apple absently against his shirt. “Maybe we missed something in the house.”
Lyse cleared her throat, hating what she was thinking but knowing she had to say it anyway. “Maybe I made a mistake?”
“No.” Fionn took a big bite, then chewed thoughtfully. “No, I think you’re right. This place fits perfectly. It’s just a matter of looking in the right spot.”
They ate quietly for a few minutes, Lyse turning the options over in her mind. It was definitely possible they’d missed something in the house. Or maybe they’d missed something on the grounds. And they were running out of time to figure out which.
Or…
“I noticed on the property maps that there’s a folly on the eastern border of the land. It’s not visible from satellite photos—too many trees—but…”
Fionn narrowed his gaze, obviously considering the same questions chasing themselves in her head. “How hard would it be to get to, especially with a trunk of gold?”
She shrugged, wiping her mouth on a napkin. “Now? Very hard, if the satellite photos tell me anything. The whole place has been left to grow wild. But ten, eleven years ago? On the map the terrain seems pretty straightforward, especially without the overgrowth.”
Fionn stood, chucking the core of his apple into the weeds. “Let’s be checking it out then.”
Traipsing through the woods took almost half an hour. Like Lyse had predicted, it wasn’t the terrain that was the problem; it was the hundreds of saplings, the fallen tree trunks, the overgrowth of vines and weeds and a decade of fallen leaves mulching the ground. Fionn, with his long legs and, ugh, muscles, made his way easily, occasionally laughing at her attempts to overcome logs far taller than her short legs. When he helped her over one tree and simply held her there, legs dangling, she gave him a backhanded smack on his perfect pec. “It’s not my fault I’m not built like an Olympian god,” she snapped.
Fionn nipped the side of her neck before allowing her to slide down his body. “Maybe a miniature goddess.”
He grinned when she glared up at him. Then his look turned serious, his eyes going unfocused as he stroked her cheek. That expression… “Your body is perfect to me, Lyse.”
She shivered, swallowing hard. Before she could respond, Fionn was walking away.
The folly was, in essence, the remains of a long-ago castle, though very little of the structure could still be found. Follies were scattered across Ireland in various stages of completeness, but Robert’s folly, in addition to some random half walls and piles of stone, contained one room that was almost completely enclosed. The walls, anyway. No roof remained, and the door was long since gone, but with the growth of the canopy around the site, the small space was practically private.
“If anything is buried out here, we’re shit out o’ luck,” Fionn said, voice rough with impatience. Time was weighing on them both.
“True.” Lyse gestured toward the room. “That’s the most likely place.”
Inside, light filtered through the leaves overhead, allowing them to see the ragged walls. Very little vegetation had grown within them, though, and when Lyse kicked at the floor, she realized some of it was actual stone. In the far corner a mound of grass-covered dirt rested against the two walls as if the wind had pushed it through the door over time until it accumulated to waist height.
Fionn made a beeline for the corner. Without finesse he dug into the top of the mound, dragging clump after clump away until the top of a solid steel footlocker appeared, dirty and corroded from time. Fionn paused, glanced back at her. “Holy feck, I think we’ve found it.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Fionn’s heartbeat was thundering in his ears. Most people would be ecstatic to find footlockers full of gold. He sure as feck was, but not because of the money. Because of the freedom it would give them. His mam no longer in hiding. Fionn able to come and go, seeing Siobhan as frequently as he desired. The end of the Ferrinas’ hold on his family once and for all.
His fingers shook as he dug out the combo lock holding the lid of the steel box shut.
“How do we get that open?”
Lyse’s question pulled him out of his fantasies and back into the moment. Anticipation flowed through him, making his smile bigger, adding an edge of danger. The warrior gearing up for a fight. “I always come prepared.”
Lyse’s laugh hitched in her throat. Her laughter was like bubbles in champagne, lighting him up from the inside out. Right now, as it mixed with the hope surging in his chest, it made him almost giddy. He dug into the pack he’d carried on his back and pulled out a smaller version of the bolt cutter he’d used on the front gate. The thick jaws made quick work of the metal loop on the lock, and then he was throwing everything on the floor and lifting the lid of the footlocker—to rows and rows of smooth, brownish-gold bars, dulled by a decade of dust. The gold filled the box from one end to the other, and edge to edge, all the way to the top.
“Holy feck,” he whispered raggedly.
The earpiece he wore, connected directly to Deacon, crackled in his ear. “We’ve got movement on the road, Irish. Ferrina brought plenty of friends with him.”
Something cold and ready rose at the words to blanket the wonder and hope inside him. He caught Lyse’s eye, knowing she’d heard the same message. “Got it, Deac. Heading back now.”
“What will we do with all this?” Lyse asked, watching as he grabbed a single gold bar, then shut the lid on the footlocker.
“We won’t have to worry about it,” he assured her. Once Mack brought the authorities in to clean up, they’d take care of the money—hauling it out and, eventually, returning it to the proper owners. He hefted the bar, which weighed a good twenty-five pounds, putting it inside the pack and zipping it closed. “Let’s go.”
They made it back to the house much faster than they’d taken going out. Lyse was breathing heavy, but she hadn’t lagged behind. They went in the rear entrance, and Fionn marched her to the stairs leading to the second and third floors.
“All the way up, love.”
The word didn’t work its magic on her this time. If anything, the line of her jaw got even more stubborn. “I don’t like the idea of you being out there on your own.”
“I’m not,” he reassured her, forcing the impatience out of his tone. Lyse wasn’t a soldier; she hadn’t already worked through the emotions a fight could bring out in you. Fionn had learned to turn the emotion off a long time ago. “Mack and Deacon are already out there, well hidden. Now get your pretty ass up those stairs and hide it just as well.”
Lyse hesitated for another moment, but she knew what was at stake. And she knew what a distraction could cost a man on a mission. They’d both seen it too many times. “Okay.” From the second step she turned, her face on level with his. “Be careful, Fionn.”
He took her mouth then. Not a sweet good-bye kiss, but a conquering, a bond. He wasn’t about to be getting hurt—he was coming back to her, no doubt about it. “I’ll be coming to get you when it’s safe.”
They’d selected a bedroom at the back of the third floor for her to stay in, one whose lock still worked. It was no guarantee against a gun, but Fionn had no intention of letting anyone inside the house. She would be safe from gunfire within the old stone walls, and the sloping roof outside the bedroom window gave her an exit if she absolutely needed one.
“I’ll be there,” she promised. He turned away as she started up the stairs, knowing it was now or never. His mission was right before him; he needed to focus on it, on meeting his objective: making the women in his life safe. Nothing would be stopping him from that goal. Nothing.
In the front hall he inventoried his weapons and then checked his phone to see if there’d been any contact from his unexpected guest, but nothing had come in. Or his guest was leaving him wondering; could be either one. The gold bar stayed in the backpack, but he emptied everything else out. He was waiting just to the left of the front door, watching thro
ugh a sliver of uncovered window, when Ferrina and his crew pulled into the driveway.
“He’s here,” he told Deacon. “You and Mack in place?”
“Of course.”
Deacon sounded offended, as if him being in position had ever been in doubt. It hadn’t, though that didn’t mean Fionn was above pulling his best friend’s tail. The two men were stationed on either side of the yard, well back into—and up in—the trees, hidden from sight. Their job was to watch and wait, only intervening if Fionn was in danger. If the timing of the various parties joining them worked out as planned, there would be no need for them.
Taking a deep breath, Fionn let his final concerns for Lyse, his nerves and anticipation, his pulsing adrenaline fade from his awareness until nothing remained but emotionless calm. The number one tool of any soldier. He’d been one most of his life, and that calm was as familiar to him as sex, as anger, as fatigue. He let it come, then…
He opened the door.
Three cars full of men had spread out across the drive—obviously Ferrina believed in being prepared. He’d learned his lesson the other night, too, doubling the amount of men they’d seen at his base camp. Smart. He’d need every single one of them.
As Fionn walked out onto the steps, Ferrina separated himself from the group and moved toward him along the stone path from the drive to the manor. He looked much better than he had in surveillance photos; without the grainy look, he seemed to carry the decade since Fionn had last seen him with ease. And the smirk on his face hadn’t changed a bit. They’d only ever met at social functions before Ferrina Sr.’s trial, and even back then, the man had worn arrogance and condescension like a cloak. Fionn had always thought that was why he disliked both Ferrinas so much, the attitude, but now he knew they’d just been evil bastards.
If there was one thing he was good at, it was eradicating evil bastards.
Destroy Me (Southern Nights: Enigma Book 3) Page 19
