Chapter 7
SEVEN
CHARLES
I couldn’t sleep.
I’d been lying in bed for what felt like hours, staring at the ceiling and trying every trick I’d ever heard of to fall asleep.
I’d counted the dirty spots on my ceiling—seventeen, in case anyone was wondering—then moved on to imaginary sheep jumping over a fence.
After that failed spectacularly, I’d even tried visualizing my happy place, which was obviously my kitchen with its gleaming surfaces and perfectly organized supplies.
But nothing worked. The first exercise made my hands itch to grab a ladder and some cleaning supplies to scrub the stains I’d apparently been ignoring for months.
The second frustrated me beyond belief because I kept losing count somewhere around sheep number forty-three and getting distracted by wondering what breed they were or if the fence was the right height for safe jumping.
And the third, which should’ve been the most relaxing, had somehow led to me grabbing the notepad from my nightstand and jotting down two new cupcake ideas—one involving lavender-honey buttercream and another with a salted caramel center that might actually be brilliant.
But no sleep. Not even close.
My brain was running a marathon while my body desperately needed rest, and every time I closed my eyes, my mind kicked into overdrive all over again.
Zane had messaged me some pics from the wedding, including one where Carlo and Sophia were cutting my cake. They’d looked so happy, so normal. Like any other couple. Hard to imagine that Carlo would want to…
I didn’t even want to think about what he wanted to do to me. Kill me? Hurt me? Torture me?
Yeah, those thoughts really weren’t conducive to sleep.
Maybe he wouldn’t find out who warned the cop.
Maybe he’d look elsewhere for that leak, like in his own organization.
Though sooner or later, he would discover none of his own people had betrayed him.
And then he’d remember the conversation he’d had with his right-hand man—Chan, according to Eamon—and determine someone had overheard them.
Then it was a simple process of elimination until he…
I shot straight up in bed. Oh god. Steve. If Carlo did some research into who had been at the banquet hall, he’d inevitably come across Steve’s name. What if he wrongly concluded Steve had talked to the cops?
I whipped the covers back and jumped out of bed, not caring that I was only in my underwear. Eamon needed to know so the NYPD could send someone to protect Steve as well. The door creaked as I opened it, and I rushed to the guest bedroom…only to find it empty, the door ajar. Where was Eamon?
I checked my watch. Two in the morning. Why wasn’t Eamon in bed? Maybe he couldn’t sleep either? I padded down the stairs to the living room, coming to a full stop when I spotted him. He was on the couch, his back turned to me, mumbling softly as he swiped something on an iPad.
“Okay, so I’ve read the ethics code. What else does the eejit want from me?”
I frowned. He had a different accent, one with more rolling Rs and an unfamiliar lilt. It didn’t sound American at all.
He swiped again and his screen went black, then reverted to the home screen. “Oh, for feck’s sake,” Eamon grumbled. “Can’t you get your fecking technology working at least? You’d think that after all this time, they’d have their fecking shite in order.”
I suppressed a laugh. Clearly, technology wasn’t Eamon’s strong point. He seemed only a few years older than me, but maybe it didn’t come natural to him?
“Can I help?” I asked.
Eamon jumped up, fumbling and nearly dropping the iPad. “Jesus fecking Christ on a bicycle! You gave me a real fright.”
Snorting, I said, “Are you practicing some accent or something? You sound strange.”
Something shifted in his expression, a brief flicker of panic followed by what I could only describe as resigned frustration.
His green eyes darted upward toward the ceiling, his shoulders tense, and I swear I saw his lips move soundlessly for a heartbeat.
It was the kind of look someone gets when they’re mentally cursing their luck or maybe asking the universe why it had it out for them specifically.
Then he cleared his throat. “Erm, yes, I’m…I’m going undercover after this. After protecting you, I mean, once you’re safe. And it’s…” He seemed to search for words. “It requires an accent.”
He sounded American again now.
“What accent is that?”
“Irish.”
My eyes widened. “You’re going undercover in Ireland?” Then the stupidity of that question hit me. “Of course you’re not. Sorry, it’s late, and I haven’t slept. It’s probably for the Irish mob or something, right? Or maybe you can’t talk about it?”
Relief filled his face. “Yeah, exactly. Not something I’m at liberty to discuss with you.”
I held up my hands. “No worries, I understand. Shouldn’t have asked.”
“What are you doing up?” he asked.
His eyes grew wide as saucers. Crap. Right. I was standing in my living room in nothing but my underwear like some kind of exhibitionist.
Eamon gave me the slowest, most thorough once-over I’d ever experienced.
His gaze started at my face, lingered there for a heartbeat, then began a deliberate journey downward.
I watched his pupils dilate as he took in my bare chest, the way his breathing seemed to catch when his eyes reached my abs, and how his lips parted slightly when his gaze dropped even lower to my gray boxer briefs that were doing absolutely nothing to hide my body’s reaction to his attention.
Heat flooded my cheeks as I realized what I must look like standing there—half-naked, probably disheveled from tossing and turning, and now getting visibly aroused under his intense scrutiny.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, and I could practically feel the weight of his stare like a physical touch.
I had to resist the overwhelming urge to cover my groin with my hands, which was absolutely ridiculous.
The urge, not resisting it. I was a grown man who’d been naked in front of other men before, but something about the hungry way Eamon was looking at me—like he wanted to devour me whole—made me feel exposed in a way that had nothing to do with clothing.
“I need to talk to you about something,” I said quickly.
“Now? It can’t wait until tomorrow or until you are, you know, decent?”
Decent. He used such funny expressions sometimes. “No, it can’t. What about Steve? Is he getting protection too?”
“Steve? Who’s Steve?”
“Steve Porter. He works at the Charming Banquet Hall, and he was also there yesterday. If Carlo starts investigating, he’ll find Steve first.”
Eamon’s eyes lit up in understanding. “Yes, that Steve. I know who you mean. We have eyes on him.”
Eyes on him? What did that mean? “So he has protection too?”
Eamon shook his head. “He doesn’t need it. He never contacted the NYPD. You did.”
“But…but Carlo doesn’t know that. What if he suspects Steve first? Wouldn’t he, like, hurt him? Or maybe interrogate him to make sure he’s innocent?”
Maybe these were really dumb questions, and I was missing something, but I still needed to know. I didn’t want Steve to get hurt because of me. He was such a sweet guy. Though even if he were an asshole, I still wouldn’t be okay with Carlo going after him.
Eamon blinked, then winced, shooting another glance toward the ceiling. “Yes, yes, of course. That’s why I said we have eyes on him. Someone’s watching him. His house, where he works. Like that. Just not in the same way as with you. But we are keeping him safe.”
Relief filled me. “Oh good. I was worried about him. He’s super sweet and nice, but not really…street smart.”
“So we’re good? You can go back to bed now?”
He almost sounded eager to get rid of me, but I ignored it. I gestured at the iPad. “What were you doing? I heard you say something about an ethics code?”
Eamon muttered something I couldn’t make out. “It’s, erm, a job training. A required course I have to take if I want to keep my job.”
I chuckled at that exaggeration. Surely an NYPD detective wouldn’t get fired for not completing some ethics course. “So what’s the problem?”
“The problem is that I can’t get this fecking…iThing to cooperate. Every time I try to play some stupid movie, the whole screen disappears.”
Nope, definitely not a tech person. “Want me to have a look?”
I held out my hand and, much to my surprise, he handed me the iPad. Maybe he’d shocked himself too because panic filled his expression, “Don’t look at the… I mean ignore the…”
“The porn site you have open?” I teased. Then my eyes fell on the browser, and I damn near choked on my breath. “Holy shit, you were watching porn!”
“Shh!” he hushed me. “No need to shout it from the rooftops. I was…frustrated, okay?”
“Hey, no judgment from me.”
“No?” He quirked an eyebrow. “Because you do look like you have an opinion.”
“Not on you watching porn. Just on you doing it on an NYPD-issued iPad.”
He frowned. “Why? What difference does that make?”
Was he serious? “Erm, you do know they can track everything you do on there, right?”
His mouth dropped open for a moment before he caught himself. “You mean they can see everything I do and watch?”
I wasn’t sure whether he meant it as a question or a statement since his tone had been flat. To be safe, I kept my answer neutral. “Exactly.”
His face tightened, and a muscle in his jaw ticked before he relaxed again. “It’s not an NYPD-issued iPad, so no worries.”
He was doing training on his own iPad? That didn’t make sense at all, but then again, little about this man was normal. He was definitely an original, that was for certain. “Anyway, still want me to take a quick look?” I checked.
“Yeah. Thanks.” He hesitated, then added, “As you can tell, I’m not great with modern technology.”
Even the way he said it made his disdain clear. “You didn’t grow up with it? Were your parents, like, super strict or something?”
His face softened. “No, but they were simple folk, living a simple life. We didn’t have any of this growing up.”
Wow, I’d never heard that before. Yeah, from groups like the Amish, maybe, or other strict religious families, but not like this. It sounded fascinating. “You didn’t miss it? Or maybe regret it now?”
He immediately shook his head. “No, not even a little bit. Technology…complicates life. It brings trials and challenges you wouldn’t have otherwise. I feel fortunate to know what it was like to grow up without it.”
I had not expected that, but his wistful tone and the honesty in his expression made me almost jealous. “That’s beautiful.”
He studied me for a moment, as if making sure I wasn’t messing with him, then nodded. “It was. Anyway, if you can get that movie to play, I’d be grateful.”
I dragged my eyes off him and refocused on the screen. It took me less than ten seconds to find the problem. “You have way too many apps and browser windows open. Holy shit, this is actually insane. You have more than two hundred tabs open. No wonder your iPad is giving up.”
He looked sheepish. “Can you fix that?”
“Sure, and real easy too, but is there anything you need to bookmark?” At his puzzled expression, I added, “Any websites you need to save so you can find them again?”
“Oh, like that. No, you can close…whatever.”
“Even your porn?” I couldn’t resist teasing him.
He flashed me a saucy grin. “Especially those. Why waste time on those when I have the real thing here?” He gestured at me. “You’re so much sexier and prettier.”
I wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or offended. Maybe both? “I’m not live porn.”
His eyes widened, and then he cursed. “No! Of course not. I didn’t mean to imply that…” He let out a deep sigh, rubbing his temples. “Gabriel’s gonna fecking kill me.”
“Who’s Gabriel?”
“My new boss. He’s a hardass, and not in a sexy way. My previous boss was much nicer.”
“Ah, like that. Did he leave?”
“No, he was…transferred to another department. And Gabriel has been on my ass from day one, all because of some misunderstandings. He has no understanding of the realities of the job, you know?”
One of the many reasons why I had decided to become my own boss. “I’m sorry. That sucks.”
With a few quick swipes, I closed all his tabs, then started closing every single open app except the one he apparently used for the training. As I did, my eyes fell on his email notifications, and I couldn’t believe my eyes. “You have over thirty thousand unread emails?”
He shrugged. “Probably. So?”
“That… Doesn’t that bother you?”
“Not even a little bit.”
“God, seeing all those angry red notifications would absolutely stress me out.”
Another careless shrug. “I don’t like email in the first place, so why bother?”
It wasn’t merely his email. Every single app had red numbers, including… I clicked on the settings. Oh. My. God. “When’s the last time you ran updates? Don’t you have automatic updates on?” One look at his face and I had my answer. “Never mind. I’ll fix that for you.”
I curled up on the couch, swiping and tapping until I had everything organized. Once I started the update, I looked up again to find him watching me. “What?”
He gave me a smile that somehow felt different from his usual ones. More…real. Like he’d removed a mask I hadn’t been aware he’d been wearing. “Thank you for helping me.”
It felt like he was saying more than that, but I had no idea what. “You’re welcome.”
The mask slid back in place as his smile transformed into a grin and a wink. “So, how about that live porn show now?”