Midnight Escape (Agents of HIS Romantic Suspense Series Book 2)

by Sheila Kell

  Due to the late hour, the house was dark. He wished she’d kept a light on for him.

  He and Cowboy tried to remain quiet as they entered, but they were far from it. In the kitchen, packs were dropped, and Cowboy perused the contents of the refrigerator for their late dinner. Since Moira usually cooked enough for an army, they’d bypassed the fast food places on the way.

  “Son of a bitch,” Danny yelled while he crumbled a sheet of paper, wanting to rip it apart, piece by piece, erasing it along with the situation that went with it. Instead, he tossed it across the room with all his strength from his old pitcher hand. “She’s gone.”

  Cowboy pulled his head from the freezer and looked at him quizzically. “What’d you mean gone? Like to a party? To the store?”

  “Don’t act like you don’t know what the fuck ‘gone’ means.” He’d used the F word way too often today. He tried to avoid using the word—Reagan’s swear jar or not.

  Before Cowboy could respond, Danny hit a speed-dial button and held the phone to his ear. When her voice mail came on, pressure on his chest hit him hard. “Hey, Moira, just checking in. Call me.” He paused and dialed another number. While waiting for the answer, he asked—to no one in particular, “Why hadn’t she called me before she left?”

  Cowboy, of course, had to respond. “Dude, she knew you were busy. Maybe she thought she shouldn’t.”

  “But I’ve explain—”

  “Franks, I’m glad you called.” Mark Kelly’s voice sounded weak to Danny’s ears. His pulse pounded so loud his ears ached.

  “Kelly, what’s going on? Where’s Moira?”

  A groan preceded the answer. “I left you a message.”

  Danny pulled back his phone to check the message icon. Nothing. “I didn’t get it. What’s going on?”

  “I’m sorry. I was in a major car accident a couple days ago and am still in the hospital.”

  Pacing, Danny slid his fingers through his hair, over and over again. “How are you?”

  “I’ll live.”

  “Do you think it could be related?” Not that he’d had any intel that Moira was in danger. Last he knew, Boyle thought she was dead.

  “I don’t think so since it was a drunk that hit me.”

  “You’ll let me know if you need anything?”

  “Of course I will. Listen, I tried to call Jax to cover for me.”

  A smidge of relief hit him amidst the horrible situation. Silence for too long took away that relief.

  “Dead. Self-inflicted gunshot wound.”

  His gut sank at the blow. He’d thought Jax had improved. He never considered he’d commit suicide. Then again, how often did someone believe that of their friend? Spots danced before his eyes at the thought.

  “I called everyone I knew. They all had a job for this weekend. I phoned to let you know no one was watching her.”

  Pinching the bridge of his nose, Danny heaved out a breath. “It’s not your fault. I want you to rest and recuperate. Oh, Kelly, I’ll see what’s needed for Jax.”

  “Thanks, man. I’ll call you when I’m released.”

  Nodding even though Kelly couldn’t see, Danny, in a reassuring voice, thanked his friend and ended the call.

  He wanted to throw his phone against the wall, but he barely restrained himself. In an effort to see if he did have a voice mail that didn’t show, he called, entered his pin, and was informed he had no new messages. He’d have to have a chat with the carrier.

  Tapping his phone against his forehead, as if he could pound in the answer, a thought popped into his head. With more confidence, he made the next call. “Are you still at HQ?”

  With a slight hesitation, Stone responded, “Just walked out the door. What do you need?”

  Even though, as far as he knew, there was no threat to her, he couldn’t stop himself. “She’s gone. Would you go back inside, pull up the tracker in her purse, and let me know where she is?”

  Cowboy’s loud declaration drowned out Stone’s reply. “Dude, even I know better than that.” He shook his head and chuckled as if enjoying himself. “You are so fucked.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Why can’t she stay where I put her? She has free rein in Fells Point, but is that good enough? Apparently not.”

  Fear like he’d never known coiled in his gut, ready to strike, as the drive to the Timonium Fair Grounds tightened the knot in his stomach. The fact she hadn’t gone far set a drip of relief flowing through him. However, the fact she went at all pissed him off. Did she not care about her safety? Although they hadn’t heard of a threat, it didn’t mean it didn’t exist. He knew she felt safe since Boyle thought her dead. Which, technically, meant she was safe. But he had his own way to play the odds.

  He didn’t have a choice about leaving her though. He had to work. Ken was due back soon, so he’d try to work something out. He wasn’t sure he really needed someone watching her. As things stood, Boyle believed her dead. Besides, he couldn’t afford to give her guards forever. Ultimately, he had to allow her to enjoy her life. However, tonight wasn’t the night.

  And that’s why he put his foot farther down on the gas pedal.

  Looking over at Cowboy, it became obvious they couldn’t afford to be pulled over since, in addition to their concealed carry weapons, they had more of their gear.

  Cowboy must’ve had the same thoughts. “Dude, you got a case in here?”

  He felt insulted at the question. “Of course I do. There are two open handgun spaces for the ones I’m carrying.” Danny glanced over at Cowboy. “Do you?” He knew the answer but felt he should ask.

  His answer came quick. “Of course. But they’re in my truck.”

  Laughing, he shook his head again. Whatever woman nailed him down had her work cut out for her. “Not every male does. Just the awesome ones like us.”

  “Hell yeah!”

  Cowboy fidgeted with the temperature controls, and Danny wanted to slap his big hand.

  “What’s your plan for her? I could toss her over my knees and spank her for you.”

  With jealousy surging through him, if he could, he’d push Cowboy out the door, even while the car was in motion. Even if he succeeded, Cowboy would be waiting at the next stop, grinning his ass off like a lucky bastard.

  That was partly why he’d not allowed Cowboy to visit or hang out while Moira was around. While growing close as friends, he and Moira had a few moments of more than that. That’s why the thought of turning her over his knees and spanking her naked butt until it was pink and he could soothe it with a rub from his hands was what he wanted to do, and curse anyone else who wanted to see even her panties.

  Knowing she had his brother, Danny hadn’t pushed, even though they’d almost kissed. It sucked balls that she hadn’t answered his question about staying for love. What concerned him was that he worried she’d change her mind after meeting Cowboy. Women flocked to the agent for some strange reason. No, she might fall for his charm like every woman, but Ireland was her love.

  Straining to keep the anger out of his voice for Cowboy’s offer of assistance, he ground his teeth and all but growled, “No. We don’t need that.”

  In his peripheral vision, he caught Cowboy’s shrug. “All right. Just sayin’ that I’ll be there for you, bro. Always willing to take one for the team.”

  Danny snorted and just like that, his jealousy of Cowboy slid to nearly nothing. That fifteen minutes could seem like another lifetime.

  “How do you think she got here? She didn’t drive, did she?”

  He hoped not because he’d told her more than once her new license wasn’t actually valid. “She rode with Luke and Laura. At least, in her note, she’d said she was with them.”

  “Are you going to get more guys to watch her when you’re gone?”

  “Yes. No. I haven’t decided.” He had to reeval
uate the situation. There had been no sign of a problem locally or in Ireland. Yet he liked erring on the side of caution.

  “What about the drug dealer? Any word?”

  Tired of waiting, Danny had contacted his friend DEA Agent Lance Ting, who was working with authorities in Ireland. Danny had told Lance some of what Moira had seen and heard. Justin had insisted not all was released. “Nothing yet.”

  Sitting in typical Baltimore traffic, Danny tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. Cowboy turned in his seat. “Thanks for letting me tag along.”

  He smiled at his friend who was only going because he was a dawg. “Truthfully, I’m glad to have the company.”

  The traffic in their lane hadn’t moved in far too long. The other lanes were at least inching along, but not theirs. “An accident.”

  “I’d agree,” Cowboy said, straining to see what he could out the window.

  Danny put on his left blinker and tried to find a hole in the creeping traffic in the next lane. After several minutes of no openings, he slapped his steering wheel in frustration. “Doesn’t anyone have any driving courtesy anymore?”

  “Then it’s time you forgot yours. Be a shit and cut someone off.”

  “I’m just not like that.”

  “Then you’ve got three options. Get over quickly. Let me drive and get over it. Or I can go block traffic for you to get your granny-ass over.”

  Administering a punch to Cowboy’s bicep would’ve released the tension if he hadn’t almost broken his hand. Those damn special ops guys.

  “I thought you were worried about Moira’s safety?”

  That got through to him. He’d make a hole and they’d get through the rest of this traffic to make sure his woman was safe. Then he’d figure out how to make Justin and Moira see it that way.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Closing up her booth for the night, Moira looked forward to the bands scheduled to play. That afternoon she’d spoken with her brother. Diana had improved, but they decided to remain in Boston. It was where the two planned to build new lives. They’d yet to figure out how to accomplish many things without a real identity, but, like her, thought once Justin brought down Boyle, they’d be free.

  Laura and Luke arrived and helped her pull down the last of her Irish landscape paintings. She’d had an excellent day—better than she’d expected, which meant she might sell out of her artwork before the Irish Festival ended.

  Although many of the people attending weren’t Irish, a sense of home bled into her every pore, making her mourn for what she’d lost. Instead of allowing the drowning emotions to grab hold of her soul, she reminded herself that she’d eventually return home. She trusted Justin to make that possible for both her and her brother.

  That thought tried to drag her down. She’d made friends in Baltimore who she’d come to love. But it wasn’t her home. It was a temporary Band-Aid to keep her alive while Justin cleared things up.

  “All done,” Luke said, tossing his hands on his hips like Superman.

  Pinning a smile on her face, she looked between him and Laura. “Thank you so much. You’re great friends.” From her experience that was true. While Cassie had been a great friend, she would’ve stood there chatting instead of helping Moira.

  Laura narrowed her eyes at Moira. “What’s wrong? I know that fake smile when I see it.”

  Luke nodded.

  Having Danny with her would’ve made her smile, but he had to work. She’d left him a note stating she’d left with her friends in case he returned from his mission early. She knew they’d enjoy themselves laughing and dancing together. Assuming he could dance. Maybe next time. It occurred to her that she hadn’t told him where the three of them had gone. After a moment, she shrugged. She’d probably be back in Baltimore before he returned.

  “I just wished I’d had time to visit some of the vendors, but I was a wee bit busy.” Her heavy purse attested to that.

  Her friends looked at each other, and she knew they didn’t believe her reason for the fake smile. She also knew they wouldn’t push. They’d wait for her to come to them when she was ready.

  “Let’s go,” Laura urged. “They’re a few booths still open.”

  Moira tucked away the last of her supplies and felt comfortable leaving them for a few minutes. “Let’s do it.”

  If only they knew that by walking single file, Laura and Luke had positioned her in the middle, as if they were security guards protecting her. Moving slowly along a table covered with beautiful glass figurines, an older woman proudly informed them that her husband crafted them all.

  After narrowing her eyes at Moira, the woman asked, “You’re that ealaíontóir on the end. Aren’t you?” Her Irish accent hit Moira as authentic as well as her use of the language.

  Pride in her art could never overcome her shyness when someone asked her if she was an artist. She had no idea why it felt boastful if she responded. Boastful was the last thing she wanted to be as an artist. Pasting on that fake smile, she nodded.

  Reaching her hand over the table, the vendor introduced herself. “I’m Moira Kilkenny Johnson.” She chuckled. “I married an American. My love for my country was strong but not as strong as my love for my husband.” Her smile broadened. “Thirty-nine years.” The wistful look on the woman’s face lit some envy in Moira.

  Would she actually ever find that kind of love? If so, in Ireland or the US? When she thought of that, Danny’s face came into view. While in the past, her mind whirled through men who’d asked her out or she’d dated. The warm feeling for her Irish potentials didn’t exist.

  “My name’s Moira as well,” she answered, without thinking, catching herself before she disclosed her real surname. Danny had instilled in her that she had to stick with her new identity, no matter the case. “It was nice to meet you. You have a lovely booth. With it being so late, I’d also like to see what other booths are open.”

  The older woman’s excitement about all the booths had her rattling them off like children with all their offerings. Thanking her, the three of them moved along, passing clothing booths, knick-knacks, and more. When they spotted a novelty booth, they rushed over, she and Laura laughing before they arrived.

  Luke groaned. “I can’t decide if I’ll enjoy this or not.”

  With a wry smile, Moira laughed. “Oh, you’ll enjoy it, or I’ll make you sit at my booth all day tomorrow as my assistant.”

  In a look of mock playfulness, Luke placed his hand on his chest and widened his eyes with laughter in them. “Oh, the horror. I can’t sit at your table all day. There’s entertainment to enjoy. And possible men to attract.” He winked at her.

  Moira’s smile changed into one of satisfaction. With Luke wanting to mingle, he’d sit for a bit with her, but he’d never make it all day. Although since two-thirds of her paintings sold today, she might not be sitting all day. That would be wonderful. Although Justin had said they were safe, Danny wanted her to live as if she wasn’t. There were days when she didn’t know what to think.

  Two women she’d place not much older than herself greeted her. “You’re one of the artists,” one of the women identified her in a friendly voice.

  “Aye. We’d like to enjoy the items you have displayed.”

  “Well, of course. We have people do that all day. Truly if someone is playing with something, it draws other people’s interest.”

  As relief soaked through her body, Moira thought on the kindness of the people working this event. She’d known nothing in Ireland that matched this. Aye, they had great festivals, but they leaned to mostly celebration in general. These Irish-Americans were celebrating their heritage as if they were on Irish soil.

  As Moira and Laura handed each other the most ludicrous of Irish novelty items, they donned them and turned to Luke, who hadn’t touched a thing. She gave him an evil eye, as best she could, and he held his phone. �
�I’ll be the one to remind you how foolish you look.” He winked. “Without being wasted.”

  She did imagine they were probably worse than silly, but it was fun. Her first outfit to remember started with her head gear. Wearing a hideous fake paper crown shaped in a four-leaf clover that stated “Kiss me, I’m Irish” across it, she couldn’t decide what accessory was worse. Below the crown, she’d been handed bright green glasses with horizontal green stripes every inch or so. The design, like most things, were four leaf clovers, and the stripes made the glasses unusable. Around her neck, Laura wrapped a thick boa made with something close to tinsel.

  To top it off, Laura handed her a tube of lipstick. Looking at her friend, Moira wondered how much she’d drank because Laura had once commented on the fact she didn’t wear lipstick. Her favorite was a light to clear lip gloss.

  Moira must’ve shown her confusion because both of her friends laughed. They didn’t laugh hard at her fun outfit, but they laughed hard at a tube of lipstick. What type of surprise should she expect?

  Laura waved her hand at Moira in a “hurry up” gesture. “Go ahead. It’s a necessity for our outfits.” Laura’s assertion it would be paid for had her examining the tube.

  Unease gripped her at what the tube contained. Then she silently laughed at herself for being so foolish. Her friends were only having fun with her.

  Opening the tube and carefully peeking in caused her friends to laugh even more. Moira twirled the base and a tube of green lipstick appeared. Green. After this festival, she’d probably remove green from her palette because she wouldn’t be able to look at it for a long while.

  “Are you kidding me?” Moira twirled the lipstick down into its tube and handed it back to Laura. Saying the first thing that came to mind as to why she couldn’t wear it, she blurted, “I don’t want to take yours. It’s okay. Next year, I’ll remember to buy some.”

  Laura held her hands up and shook her head. “Oh, this is yours. I have mine in my pocket.” She reached down, pulled it out and, in the small mirror, probably designed for patrons to view their silliness, Laura applied the lipstick, rubbed her lips together, then opening them with a pop. “Before you ask, yes, I paid for them.”