by Sheila Kell
His gut clenched in fear for Moira. If they had caught her…. He couldn’t think it. “So now we need to figure out if she was a target of opportunity or contracted.”
“It sounds like they gave up too easily for a targeted pick,” Brad said. “Think about it. They let the boys turn them away from checking, not only the woman being kissed, but the women’s restroom. Then, they weren’t waiting outside the door for when she left. No, I’d go for target of opportunity. Those two were probably trying to impress the bosses. I’m upset to say that since they didn’t get Moira, they probably snatched another woman.”
Danny nodded. He liked that line of thinking, but not that another woman may have been abducted. They’d keep an eye out for anyone suspicious, potentially from the Underground, but he’d keep that hope she hadn’t been targeted. Just in case there was another faction at work, he’d check in with Justin and Declan to see if they knew of any activity.
“But someone still broke in and destroyed her studio,” Devon said. “That was targeted. It screams petty though. The Underground would’ve trashed the entire place.”
It did seem petty. “Moira doesn’t know anyone she’s upset since she’s been here. Couldn’t it have been the two men who tried to grab her as a revenge for escaping them?”
“Then that changes things and would mean she wasn’t a crime of opportunity,” Brad said.
“We may have one or two contacts in the Underground. We’ll see what we can get from them,” said AJ, who’d been an enforcer for a drug lord, albeit undercover FBI. If contacts had been made, he’d have made them when he went through that dark time of his life.
“Well, until we find out, you’re all restricted to the house,” AJ directed. “No more shopping trips.”
He wanted to argue out of principle, but AJ had it right. They needed to stay together and out of sight. Now, if only he could convince Moira that was best, without scaring her to death about the potential threat.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The soothing sound of the storm outside didn’t interrupt Moira’s mind. She slid her brush across the celestial blue on her pallet for her drybrush stroke, but her mind wandered. Even though she’d painted mostly works of Ireland to keep the memories alive, Moira enjoyed living in America.
With a heavy sigh, she pulled back, and, with a critical eye, she inspected what she’d created so far. She hadn’t thought about what she’d been painting since her brush and muse helped bring it together. Another painting of the streets of Dublin. She’d only been to this narrow street, with bars on both sides and friends congregating on the street blocked off for traffic, a few times. Her recollections sometimes surprised her.
Taking the time to thoroughly clean her new brushes, she jumped when the front door slammed. Even with Danny’s teammates outside, fear ripped through her, and her body shook as small droplets of water dripped from the brush in her hand. They’d been on house arrest for three weeks now, and neither Danny nor the guards had slammed the door. She could only assume it was someone else—they’d been found. Thunder boomed at that moment, driving the terror home.
Her chest heaved and she couldn’t catch her breath. Not an attack, not now. With her heart pounding, her gaze raced around the room for a hiding place. She decided on the far corner, yet her legs wouldn’t move. Those wobbly legs. Why couldn’t she move? Her life might depend on it. She closed her eyes as tears spilled down her cheeks and hoped Danny returned before whoever broke in, either killed her or took her away. Danny, where are you?
“Moira, you here?” Danny’s voice traveled up the stairs to her third-floor haven and unfroze her mind and body.
As her legs buckled, she fell to the floor with a combination of relief and anger at him for almost giving her a heart attack. Or as she would say to her brother “putting the heart crossways in her.” She hoped her voice didn’t sound as frightened as she’d been. “Yes, just cleaning up.”
“Can I come up and see?”
She squeaked. In no way did she want him to see her like this. Like a scared little girl. “Nay, it’s a work in progress.” He understood that no one saw her ealaín until it was complete.
Slipping inside her bedroom, she freshened up and waited until her body felt normal again.
The walk down the stairs with her hand gliding on the banister elicited a laugh from Danny. She narrowed her eyes at him but wasn’t upset. “What’s so funny?”
Sucking in a breath as he tried to calm his laughing enough to speak, he finally won the battle. “You. You looked like royalty gliding down the stairs. Did they teach you that at that prissy boarding school?”
They actually had taught them a great deal of comportment. Ignoring him and his “prissy” comment, she walked past him and peered into the refrigerator and groaned. She shut the door and turned to Danny; his eyebrows rose as if to laugh again. Ignoring the expression and his damp hair needing a comb, she asked, “Are you hungry?”
He gazed at her for a moment with a tight jaw, and she worried what she’d done. Not moving, his serious gaze bothered her. As she looked closer, it wasn’t serious—it was heated.
“Did you know you’ve got a perfect ass?” he asked
Her body tingled in pleasure, but she had no idea how to respond. Instead, she changed the subject. “Who’s open this late for takeaway?”
A quirk at the corner of his lips told her he saw through her. After a moment—too long of one—he checked his watch. “For delivery, we have Chinese or pizza.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’d like Chinese. How about you?”
With a shrug, he agreed, “Chinese works. There’s a—”
Waving her hand to cut him off, she turned to the counter. “—menu in the drawer.”
After ordering enough food for the crew and leftovers galore, they stood, and his gaze continued to bore into her. Walking to the refrigerator, she asked, “What’d you like to drink?”
“Guinness. You’ve ruined me for American beers.” He moved to the shelf where he kept the alcohol.
Sitting, she squirmed a bit. They’d not had this stilted a silence since she’d first arrived. They’d also not spent so much time together since before, he’d worked days or weeks at a time, leaving her alone. Her nerves were getting the better of her when they shouldn’t.
Another boom of thunder shook his house before the power blinked and remained off. They remained still, her hoping the lights would return. She wasn’t afraid of the dark but preferred to avoid it unless sleeping.
A light appeared in Danny’s hand. Moving his cell phone around, he found her. “Candles,” he stated firmly. “Do you have your phone?”
She kept it in her pocket or purse, always, in case her brother called. She pulled it from a pocket.
Through the glow of her screen, she caught his nod before she turned on her flashlight app. Touching her arm, he led her to a cabinet she’d never explored.
Her mouth dropped. Was he expecting a zombie apocalypse? Accepting the handful of items, concern climbed up her throat. “What about the security system?” It’d taken days to get everything installed to Devon’s satisfaction. With it, she felt safe. When it was turned on, that was.
“Don’t sweat it. It’s got a battery backup. We’ll be fine as long as it isn’t off for long. But, remember, we’ve got Cowboy and John watching over the place. If need be, we can bring Doc and Jane back.”
Once they’d set up enough candles to leave no dark corners, she relaxed.
“Come on. Let’s sit and chat.”
As she settled on the couch, she relaxed. Whatever the scent, the candles did the job.
“First,” he started the conversation, “I’m sorry for being late. Tonight, let’s just do some good ole Q & A to learn more about each other.” He waved his hand as if he’d just called her to the stage. “Ladies first.”
Embarrassment f
looded her at thinking of how she’d reacted earlier when he’d arrived. The team had said Jane would be her companion indoors when Danny wasn’t home. She should’ve realized Jane would only open the door to Danny or a team member. The agent would’ve called out had there been trouble. She also would’ve left when Danny entered. It all made sense in hindsight.
“Are you okay?” he asked with concerned eyes.
Like she’d been taught by her mother, she took a deep breath and counted to ten before releasing it. She didn’t know if this was the official fix, but it worked for her. “You can go first.”
After a pause he asked, “You’ve been here nearly four months, what do you think of America? Maybe making it your home?”
How to answer that? She’d been given no incentive to stay. She picked her words to not let her true feelings burst free. “I miss my homeland.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “But I might be convinced to stay.”
“How?” Lead balls dropped to the pit of her stomach. He didn’t act like he wanted her to stay. That kiss must’ve meant nothing to him.
Thinking quick on her feet, she chuckled. “My turn.” She hoped the takeaway would arrive soon because she didn’t want to answer that last question. Oh, she thought of a whopper that might give her a clue to his dating. “Cowboy mentioned you’d been dating a lot before I arrived. Do you really want to get married that badly to go on so many blind dates?”
Choking on the swig of Guinness he’d just taken, he coughed and coughed and coughed. She began to think he planned to do that until the food arrived, so he’d not have to answer. Granted he didn’t have to answer, but something within her, somewhere she didn’t want to yet acknowledge, wanted to know his stance on marriage. Not that she planned to marry him. Still, she wanted to know.
So they’d each hit on tender topics. If he gave her any attention as a woman—more than tonight and the kiss to hide her—she’d spill her guts to him.
“Let’s see.” He wouldn’t look at her, which she found odd. Did he plan to lie? “No, I’m not in a rush to marry. The children I babysit from time to time for my bosses’ families give me plenty of kid time. I used to do it more often before you moved in. I don’t want them interrupting you while you work.” He took another drink of Guinness and she’d throw something at him if he did that fake choking thing again. “As for the dating, Sugar’s decided I needed a woman in my life. She’s been pushing to set me up, and I’d given in. Until recently.”
Her breath hitched. Dare she hope he stopped seeing other women because of her? “Why?”
A deep, rumbling laugh that had her wanting to do all kinds of things to him reached her. “Now it’s my turn.”
At the hard knock on the door, she jumped. When her gaze locked with his, Danny smiled. “It’s okay. Takeout, remember?”
She must’ve looked like a frightful rabbit the way his eyes had softened to soothe her.
Danny set his drink on the coffee table, stood, and walked to the door. “Why the hell did I install a doorbell when everybody knocks or just walks right in?” He turned to give her the evil eye when she’d giggled at his question. She caught his smile before he turned back.
While Danny dealt with paying and carting the two bags to the living room coffee table, she collected plates, utensils, and napkins for them, plus a beverage for her. Before they filled plates, Danny called Cowboy in to grab something for him and John, and then take it back to their posts.
Alone, candlelight and a casual dinner created a romantic air. She became downright giddy with the knowledge.
Sliding to the floor at the living room coffee table, her body warmed as his strong thighs settled beside her. Hoping for the “hand almost touching” scene like in movies that brought on snogging, she smiled as she took a sip of beer.
Chapter Twenty-Four
When Danny turned to Moira in the kitchen after dinner, and she bounced off his chest, this time, he caught her. The heat flying between them had been nearing an inferno. They’d talked and laughed like normal people having dinner, but the looks they’d shared had been so hot, the flames engulfed them.
He’d known cleaning up the dishes—few as there were since they’d had takeout—would be a good excuse to get close to her, to touch her hand when handing off dishes to dry. And he knew that bumping into her could also be an option. Case in point.
He held her arms tightly against him. He heard, rather than felt, the hitch in her breathing. It fed his desire to take her to bed. And it was damn time he did that with her.
“If you don’t want this,” he said in a hoarse voice, “now is the time to speak up.”
With her adorable Irish accent, she said, “Aye, I want this.”
He pulled her so close that nothing but air could move between them. He lowered his head and tasted her sweet lips. She tasted like Chinese takeout and beer and something unique that he longed to taste more of.
Brushing her lips softly, he took his time playing over the top of them, before prodding her lips open with his tongue. She didn’t stop him or hesitate. In no time, the kiss turned fierce, his tongue demanding dominance and his mouth hard and wanting.
Justin’s name flitted in and immediately out of his mind. She was his, and he’d fight anyone he needed to for her, including his brother.
With his arms around her, he tightened his hold. Now that he had her, he never wanted to let her go.
Their mouths melded perfectly, and their kisses set his cock to standing strong, ready for her. The thought of being inside her made him groan with need and try again to get her closer, although it was impossible.
“You taste so good,” he rasped.
She laughed. “Yeah, like Chinese food.”
He grinned down at her. “There’s that. Plus, more.”
With that, he took her mouth again, rubbing his hand up and down her back, resting on her nicely shaped bottom. He squeezed and pulled her tightly against his groin to let her feel his hard length and his desire for her. When she moaned, he could’ve come at the sound alone. Making love to her became his number one priority.
She made the first move by tugging his shirt from his jeans and pulling it over his head in one smooth movement. It didn’t embarrass him that he’d been too slow to initiate this phase of their making out, but he made sure to reciprocate. After, he stared at her in a white lacy bra and couldn’t decide whether to remove it properly or rip it from her body, so he could see her bare breasts. Luscious breasts he’d been eyeing for a while now.
To make it easier for him, she turned with her back toward him and the hooks facing him. He quickly reached up, unfastening the first hook, before he heard, “Friendly, incoming,” in his ear.
He dropped his head and worked to hold onto what had once been passion but had turned to anger. Whoever interrupted them had best have a good reason. And he couldn’t think of any at the moment.
He refastened the bra and turned her. “You’d best get dressed.” He reached for his own polo. “We have company.”
Her eyes widened, and he wasn’t sure if it was surprise or fear.
To alleviate one possibility, he said, “It’s friendly.”
Relief washed over her features. So, she was more scared than she let on. He’d remember that.
They’d just finished tucking their shirts into their pants when the knock on the door sounded. He couldn’t do anything about the bulge proudly displayed in his pants. It’d go down in no time, but it might be noticeable to their guest, who was apparently someone they knew.
When he answered the door, several emotions ran through him—anger, worry, relief, to name a few. Justin—whose girl he almost took to bed—stood on his doorstep, looking worse for wear.
“Come in,” Danny said. As his brother entered, he noticed the sling holding Justin’s arm tight to his body. The bruises had purpled but the swelling in his right jaw remained. �
��Have a seat.”
Moira gasped and squeaked when she saw Justin. Before he could ask another question, Moira was lavishing attention on his brother. Technically, her boyfriend, or so he’d assumed. And if that was the case, she’d cheated by kissing him. But he wouldn’t say anything. He would ask Justin to step back though. Unless he loved her too.
Whoa, wait a minute, love? Impossible. She hadn’t been here that long. Okay, it had almost been four months. However, they hadn’t even had sex yet. How could you love someone without having sex? Heck, they’d just kissed for the first time. Okay, the second time if they counted the tavern kiss. Still, maybe he just liked her a lot. He knew he wanted to be with her both in and out of clothes all the time. More than he had any other woman.
“He knows you’re alive,” Justin said to Moira. “I barely got out of there myself.”
“What happened?” Danny dropped in the chair opposite the couch where Justin and Moira sat close together.
“It’s the money. Declan pulled funds. Dead men don’t pull funds.”
Damn. He forgot to talk with Devon about a safe way for them to access their funds. Since Moira hadn’t needed any, he’d forgotten about the situation. If only he’d done so at the beginning, maybe they wouldn’t have been found. “Does he know where?”
“No. And he tried hard. I had a dislocated shoulder”—he pointed to the shoulder with a sling on his arm— “and some bruises, but luckily, no internal bleeding and nothing broken.”
“How’d you get away?” And did you lead them here? He wanted to know because, right now, he wasn’t sure whether to trust his brother. Danny figured if Boyle had found out about Justin, his brother would probably be dead or close to it.
“Boyle chose the wrong guy to beat the truth out of me. It was too easy to overpower him. Maybe he didn’t try hard because everyone loves Diana, and they don’t want Boyle to find her.”
“Excuse me,” Danny said, before standing and walking down the hall to his bedroom. Directly into his comms mic, he said, “Heads up. Stay alert.”
