Chapter 16 Sean #2
It has to be, I think. The car bomb is too much of a fucking coincidence. He's coming after Maeve to get to me, and I brought this down on her head.
The bathroom door opens and Maeve emerges in a long nightgown, her face scrubbed clean, her hair loose around her shoulders.
She looks younger like this. Fragile. That old guilt sweeps over me for wanting her, for ever touching her tonight.
I can still feel the softness of her skin against my fingertips.
I swear I can smell the scent of her arousal, taste her lips against mine.
It’s torture being in here with her like this, but maybe it’s what I deserve, for wanting her at all.
She climbs into bed without a word, and I take the same chair I sat in before, dragging it closer to the bed. She's watching me, those soft blue eyes tracking my every movement.
"Sean?" she whispers.
I swallow hard. "Yeah?"
"Thank you. For protecting me tonight."
My throat tightens. "You don't need to thank me for that."
She's quiet for a moment. "That kiss... on the balcony..."
"Was a mistake," I finish for her, even though the words taste like ash. "It won't happen again."
I can't see her expression in the dim light, but I hear her small intake of breath. "Oh."
Fuck. That came out wrong. All of this is wrong.
"Get some sleep, Maeve,” I grit out, feeling my stomach sink. I’m not made for this. Not made to keep a woman like her closer, knowing what I could do to her.
She rolls over, turning her back to me, and I sit in the darkness, listening to her breathing gradually slow.
An hour later, Flynn knocks softly and cracks the door open. He jerks his head toward the hallway. I rise silently and slip out, closing the door behind me.
"Security is posted," Flynn says quietly. "Eight men on rotation. I've also got some contacts digging into what happened tonight."
"It's Brennan," I say flatly.
Flynn nods slowly. "That's my thought, too. The bomb... it's too similar. He's sending a message."
"He's going after her to get to me." Rage simmers in my gut. "Because I tried and failed to kill him."
"So what's the play?"
I run a hand through my hair, thinking. "I need to talk to the Council. But I'm not leaving her here unprotected."
Flynn shrugs. "So take her with you."
I shake my head. "Too dangerous. Take her closer to Brennan? I don’t think so."
"Sean." Flynn gives me a look. "She's not safe anywhere right now. At least in Dublin, you've got more of the Council's resources. You've got familiar territory. You've got me." He pauses. "And maybe you stop lying to yourself about why you really want her close."
I shoot him a glare. "Not the time."
"When is the time?" He shakes his head. "I saw you tonight. I saw how you protected her. That's not obligation, brother. That's—"
"Don't." My voice comes out harder than I intend. "Just don't."
Flynn holds up his hands. "Fine. But you're still taking her to Dublin. It's the smart thing to do."
I know he's right. I hate that he's right.
"We'll leave tomorrow night," I say finally. "That gives us time to prepare."
"And to tell your wife she's leaving the country?"
My jaw tightens. "Yeah. That too."
Flynn claps me on the shoulder. "Get some sleep. I'll take first watch."
I go back into Maeve's room and sink back into the chair. She's still awake—I can tell by her breathing.
"Maeve." I say her name softly, and she rolls over to face me.
"I heard."
"Are you okay with going to Dublin?"
I see her eyes widen with surprise in the dim light of the room. "Do I have a choice?"
The honest answer is no, but I don't want to say that. "I'll keep you safe there. I promise."
"You keep saying that." Her voice is soft in the darkness. "But what if you can't?"
"Then I'll die trying."
The words are out before I can stop them, and they hang in the air between us. She goes very still.
"Sean—"
"Go to sleep, Maeve." I lean my head back against the chair and close my eyes. "We've got a long day tomorrow."
She doesn't say anything else, and eventually, her breathing evens out into genuine sleep. But I stay awake, keeping watch, my mind turning over every angle, every threat, every possible way to keep her safe.
Because the alternative—losing her—isn't something I'm willing to consider.
—
Morning comes too fast. I make Maeve eat breakfast even though she protests she's not hungry, refusing to leave the table until she finally gives in and manages half her breakfast. Then I tell her to change into something she can move in.
"Why?" She's still pale, with dark circles under her eyes.
"Because we're training."
"Training?” Her eyes widen. “Sean, after last night—"
"Especially after last night." I hold her gaze. "You need to know how to protect yourself. I won't always be there in time."
The words hurt to say, but they're true. She proved last night she can run, can follow instructions under pressure. But she needs more.
She disappears upstairs and comes back down in leggings and a t-shirt, her hair pulled into a ponytail. We head out to the range, both of us quiet. I can’t stop looking at the bandaged cut on her face, can’t stop thinking about how much worse it could have been.
I’ve gone my entire adult life without having anything that could hurt me if it was lost. I can’t let that change.
The morning is cool, mist still hanging in the air. Maeve wraps her arms around herself as we walk from the car into the range.
"First, we're going to work on your shooting," I tell her. "Then hand-to-hand."
She nods, nervous but determined. I like that about her—she doesn't back down even when she's scared.
I hand her the Glock, watching as she checks it the way I taught her. Good. She's learning.
"Remember your stance," I say, moving behind her. I put my hands on her hips, adjusting her position, and I feel her sharp intake of breath. My body responds immediately, and I grit my teeth. Focus. "Feet shoulder-width apart. Good."
I adjust her grip on the gun, my hands covering hers, and I'm acutely aware of how small she is against me. How warm. How fucking perfect she feels.
This is torture.
"When you breathe out, squeeze the trigger," I murmur, my mouth close to her ear. "Don't pull. Squeeze."
She does, and the gun fires. The target wobbles—not a center shot, but close.
"Again."
We do this for twenty minutes, and each time I have to touch her to correct her form, the tension between us ratchets higher. By the time I step back, my body is wound tight, my cock throbbing and I can see the flush on her cheeks, the way her breathing has changed.
"Good," I say, my voice rougher than it should be. "You're improving."
"Thank you." She doesn't quite meet my eyes.
“We’ll go back in and work on self-defense,” I tell her, glad for the drive back to get some space.
My entire body is screaming for relief, for me to do something about the lust that’s choking my veins.
I’m going to have to get close to her again, and it’s going to take everything in me not to throw her down onto one of those mats and fuck her senseless.
I’d break her, and I’d come harder than I ever have in my entire life while I did.
Which is exactly why I can’t fucking have her.
“Let’s get started,” I tell her tersely once we’re in the gym. I move onto the mat. "Someone grabs you from behind. Show me what you'd do."
She steps onto the mat, and I move behind her, wrapping one arm around her waist and the other across her chest. Immediately, I know this was a bad idea. She's pressed back against me, and I can smell her shampoo, feel every curve of her body.
"Maeve," I force myself to say. "What do you do?"
"I..." She's breathing fast. "I stomp on your instep?"
"Good. Do it. Not full force, but show me."
She does, her heel coming down on top of my foot. I let her go and step back.
"Good. What else?"
We run through scenarios, and each time I have to grab her, hold her, pin her down, the tension gets worse. My hands linger too long. She presses back against me when she shouldn't. By the time we finish, we're both breathing hard, and it has nothing to do with the physical exertion.
"Sean." She turns to face me, and we're standing too close for comfort. My cock has been hard for the better part of an hour, and the pain is starting to occlude my thinking. "Last night, you said the kiss was a mistake."
My jaw tightens. "It was."
"Why?" she presses, despite the fact that I’ve answered this before. "You want me. I know you do."
Christ, she has no idea. "That's not the point."
"Then what is?"
Christ. I can’t fucking think. I step back, putting distance between us. "Go pack. We leave in six hours."
I walk away before I do something I can't take back.
—
The flight to Dublin is tense and quiet.
Maeve sits by the window, watching Boston disappear below us, and I wonder what she's thinking. Is she scared? Angry? Both? She hasn’t said a word to me about how she feels about the trip, just packed her bags and went along with what she was told to do.
It’s only piled on to the guilt I constantly feel—I have an idea that much of her life has been like that, and I’m adding to it.
But I need to keep her safe, and I need to go to Dublin.
I can’t do both unless she comes with me.
Flynn is with us, sprawled in his seat, apparently asleep, but I know better. He's always alert. I’m wide-awake, but I can’t stop looking at Maeve. I should be planning. Thinking about what I'll say to the Council, how I'll handle Brennan. Instead, I'm watching my wife.
She's wearing leggings and a sweater, her hair down, no makeup. She looks young and vulnerable, and something protective and possessive claws at my chest.
Mine.
The thought comes unbidden and unwanted. She's not mine. Not really. This marriage was forced on both of us. Legally, she’s my wife, but nothing about this was chosen, and she doesn’t belong to me in any of the ways that matter.
Why does it fucking feel like it’s starting to matter?
"You're staring," she says quietly, not looking at me.
"Sorry."
She looks up then, those blue eyes finding mine. "Are you?"
I don't know how to answer that, so I don't. "What's Dublin like?" she asks after a moment.
I chuckle. "Rainy. Gray. Loud, in some parts of the city."
A ghost of a smile touches her lips. "Sounds lovely."
I shrug. "It's my home."
"Tell me about it." She shifts in her seat to face me better. "Your home, I mean. What's it like?"
"Small. A flat in a less busy part of the city. Nothing like your mansion."
"I don't care about that." She pauses. "Will I... will I have my own room?"
Fuck. I didn’t think about that. “There’s only one bedroom. But I can sleep on the couch.”
She looks away, as if she’s not sure what she thinks of that. Something tightens in my chest, and I reach across the space between us and take her hand. She startles but doesn't pull away. "You're safe with me, Maeve. Whatever happens, you're safe."
She presses her lips together. “I hope so,” she says softly, and then she takes her hand away.
It feels like cracks are opening up in my chest, fissures that hurt and burn. All I can think about is what I need to do when we get to Dublin. I'll talk to the Council. I'll hunt down Brennan. And I'll keep Maeve safe, no matter what it costs me.
When the plane touches down, I hear Maeve gasp slightly. It occurs to me, though I didn’t ask, that she’s probably never flown before. She didn’t voice a word of complaint, and I silently curse myself for not asking, for not thinking of how to make her more comfortable.
I can’t stop fucking this up. Which is exactly why I should never have been given her in the first place.
I take a deep breath, standing as the plane comes to a stop, watching Maeve stare out of the window.
"Ready?" I ask her.
She takes a deep breath and nods. "Ready."
We step off the plane into the Dublin night, and I watch Maeve take in her first glimpse of the city’s lights in the distance. The far-off lights, the rain just starting to fall, the distant sound of traffic.
"Welcome to Dublin," Flynn says cheerfully, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "You're going to love it."
I glare at him and he rolls his eyes, pulling his arm away. Maeve looks at me uncertainly, and I motion to the waiting car. “Let’s go.”
I’m back home, I think as I open the car door for her. I’m bringing a wife home, something that I never thought would happen. It feels strange, no matter the circumstances of our marriage.
And somehow, I have to keep us both alive long enough to figure out what comes next.