Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Beside him, Cass laughed at the show they were watching.
He shook his head in disbelief that he was watching SpongeBob SquarePants , but she’d said she loved the show when she’d put it on. Irish couldn’t deny her anything so he kept his mouth shut.
“How many times have you watched this show?” he asked when she quoted yet another line of dialogue one of the cartoon characters said.
“Too many to count.”
“And the reason you watch it over and over?” Irish asked.
“SpongeBob is quality TV. His joy is infectious, and he always sees the positive in the world.”
“Are you sure about that?” he asked. What did he know? Then again, this was the first time he’d been exposed to the cartoon sponge and his band of underwater sea creature friends.
Cass nudged his ribs. “Bet you’re regretting your decision to let me loose with the remote.”
“Nope. It makes you happy, and that’s what makes me happy.” Irish slung an arm around her shoulders, tugged her close and kissed the top of her head. A wave of pleasure hit when she softened against his side and placed her arm across his abs.
This was what Cass’s nights should be like.
Relaxed, watching her favorite show, without the threat of the cartel storming her front door.
The fact that they’d lost the fuckers chasing them was of little comfort to Irish. How the hell had they found them in the first place?
Had it been sheer luck?
He didn’t believe in luck, even though he had Irish blood flowing through his veins. The luck of the Irish wasn’t something he gave a lot of credence to.
No, it wasn’t luck that’d had those two members of the cartel stumbling on them at the beach. Hell, they’d been in Malibu, miles from her house.
That meant that, even though he’d assumed Cass was safe at her home, she might not be, after all.
“What’s wrong?” Cass asked, sitting up .
The room was quiet, and the television screen black.
When had she turned it off?
“Nothing’s wrong,” Irish bluffed, then hated himself for lying because hurt flashed across her features.
“I don’t believe that, but if you don’t trust me enough to tell me what’s going on, then you can just leave.” Cass pulled away, and Irish fought the urge to yank her back down to his side.
He deserved her anger. He’d done what he’d promised himself he wouldn’t do.
She popped up and off the couch, and he cursed.
Irish got off the couch and headed in the direction where Cass had disappeared. He found her in the kitchen, stacking their dinner plates into the dishwasher.
“I’m sorry, Alastronia. ”
She whirled. “No, you don’t call me that. I’m angry at you.”
“I know you are, and you have every right to be. I lied to you when I shouldn’t have.”
Her shoulders slumped as though all the fight had been sucked out of her. “You’re right. You shouldn’t have.”
“Do you want to know what I was thinking about?” Irish asked.
“I do.”
He wanted to close the distance between them. Pull her into his arms and kiss away the sadness, but he kept his feet grounded to the spot they were in and shoved his hands into his jean pockets. “I was wondering how those guys found us so they could follow our car. We were in Malibu. It can’t have been luck. No one knew I was taking you there.”
“What are you thinking, then?”
“They had to have followed us from here. They have to know where you live. As I said, I don’t believe it was luck that had them three cars behind us. Coincidences like that don’t happen.”
The more Irish spoke, the more Cass’s face paled and, while he might wish he could snatch the words back, he couldn’t.
“If what you said is true, then how come you didn’t see them when we were going to the beach? It took you all of five minutes after we left for you to pick up that we were being tailed,” she said.
That was the only thing that wasn’t sitting well with him. As he’d driven them, he checked his mirrors. It was something Irish had always done, and he hadn’t seen them .
Had the cartel made a mistake on the return journey, and that was why he saw them?
“I don’t know. I’ve got no answers to that.”
Cass came over to him and put her hands on his chest.
Her touch was soothing. She must have forgiven him for his earlier lapse in judgment.
“We can check the footage around my house. See if the car drove past the house,” she said.
“We can, but I don’t think we will be that lucky. Where did the police report say the car was stolen from?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll go check.”
When Cass went to pull away, he grabbed her hand.
“We’ll check together,” Irish said when she arched an eyebrow.
“Together. I like the sound of that.”
“I do too.” He did far too much, but he couldn’t go back to how their relationship had been before.
Cass was his, and he wasn’t letting her go.
Frustration threatened to consume Irish, but he tamped it down. The police report hadn’t been much help, because the car had been stolen from downtown LA the previous evening, giving them plenty of time to find out Cass’s address and get to her house.
The question still remained—how the hell had they found out where she lived? The cameras surrounding her place hadn’t shed any light either. No cars going past had matched the car that had been following them.
“You said the DEA had a contact in the cartel. Perhaps he gave out my address details,” Cass said.
The very idea that someone had deliberately led the cartel to her had Irish ready to burn the world down. “If they fucking did that, then they’re going to pay for that. Whoever this guy is, he’s not supposed to bring danger to your door. He should be fucking keeping it away from you.”
She curled her arms around his, leaning against him.
Irish attempted to tamp down his anger, but it was going to take more than Cass giving him a one arm hug to achieve that.
“Perhaps he doesn’t know who I am. Perhaps it was a computer genius that found the information and passed it on. If they knew my name, it’s easy enough to find out where I live in county tax records. That’s the first place I look when I need to find someone,” she said.
No matter how reasonable—not to mention believable—Cass’s explanation was, he still didn’t like it. However, she had a point about the cartel having someone with exceptional computer skills in their organization. It was probably how they were able to make a lot of their shipments appear legitimate and not require further investigation.
“Doesn’t make me any happier if that’s the case,” Irish muttered.
Cass stood in front of him, their arms still joined. “I’m not happy either, but the important thing is, we’re safe here. We will know if anyone comes on the property.”
All the security in the world didn’t necessarily mean they were safe. There were still ways to attack. A drone attack was the most concerning one. Unless Cass had cameras on her roof pointing upward, they’d get in and out without any warning.
No way would Irish tell her his thoughts. This was one occasion where not saying what he was thinking was the best approach. “I guess.” He pulled her tight against him and closed his eyes, resting his cheek on the top of her head. “I just want to keep you safe.”
“I know. I want to keep you safe, too.” She pulled back and their eyes met.
Irish swallowed, but he still lost himself in their dark depths. “You mean the world to me, Cass. You know that, right?” He couldn’t bring himself to admit he loved her. He wanted to but keeping that buried deep in him had become second nature.
“I know, and I care for you, too.”
He needed to have that connection with her. The closeness that only two people who meant the world to each other could have. Irish lowered his mouth to hers.
Cass rose up and met him halfway.
He groaned as her mouth opened beneath his, and he deepened the kiss. He wanted to forget everything that’d happened that day.
All he wanted to focus on was the woman in his arms. Irish bent, scooping her up in his arms and led her to the bedroom.
Tonight, he’d show her what was strumming in his veins. Irish would show her she was the most important person in his life. He’d show her they were meant to be.