Chapter 23
Kellin
I tried to help Maeve as best I could, but I had to escape before the growing weight of my guilt crushed me.
With my insulin spiking from all that sugar, I started to feel nauseous too.
I’m not a good man. Certainly not a hero.
Though part of me wishes I could be the man Maeve believes me to be.
I pretended to fill that role while washing her hair in the shower and toweling off her silky-soft skin. Those legs. That stomach. Her beautiful breasts. Her elegant neck. Those sweet and innocent freckles that bridge her striking cheekbones.
Sharing her space and caring for her aroused me. On some deeper level, her relying on me like that felt…nice.
I’m a terrible fucking person.
While waiting on my coffee, I scan the lobby. No sign of Maeve’s father, brothers, or Nolan Doyle.
My gaze catches a security guard—one of Maeve’s hires—as well as one of Declan’s men. Satisfaction swells in my chest when they remind me of how I ended the motherfucker who attacked her.
At least I’ve done one thing right by her in the last twenty-four hours.
Lenora seems perfectly happy to boss me and everyone else around for a day. If Maeve weren’t under the weather, the other woman probably would be dancing an excited jig.
She went to the kitchen to have them get some soup and crackers ready. In my attempt to lighten Lenora’s load, I tried to speak with the chef about a palatable meal for Maeve, only for the douche to chase me out with a knife.
Lenora disappeared into the kitchen after that and reappeared in two minutes, poised and unperturbed, with a bowl of steaming soup and crackers.
No wonder Maeve delegates interactions with Moreau whenever possible. The Frenchman possesses a mercurial—even violent—temperament.
His food is amazing though.
At the café counter, I wait on my Americano and a ginger ale to help settle Maeve’s stomach.
I trade eye contact with Declan’s man. After the brief, silent exchange, he glances away and heads down a hall.
Yeah, you better hide.
He may not know me, but he’s sharp enough to recognize that I’m not a guy to mess with.
My skin itches from all these goons on the grounds. At some point, their presence will negatively affect Maeve’s business, if that hasn’t already started.
I shake those thoughts away.
I’m not actually an investor. I don’t care if Declan’s control impacts her business.
This isn’t real. Wake the fuck up to the mission.
One of the servers brings me the beverages I ordered, and I load them onto the tray with the soup and crackers before heading back to Maeve’s room.
Tapping her key card to the reader, I slip into the suite quietly.
I set the tray down on a table, grab my Americano and her soda, and slip into Maeve’s bedroom to check on her.
She stirs when I enter.
“Hey.” I place her ginger ale on the nightstand. “I brought soup, but I left that on the kitchen table. You should eat in a little while.”
“Sounds perfect. Thank you so much.” She sits up enough to sip from the straw. “I want to want coffee…yours smells so good…but this is perfect.” She smiles sweetly.
A knife to my gut.
After a few more sips, she sets the drink down, closes her eyes, and flops back on the pillow.
She’s silent for so long, I begin to wonder if she’s already—
“I made a list while you were gone.” She feels for her phone on the nightstand. Once she finds it, she pops one eye open and shoots off a text. My own cell pings. “That’s a Lenora-approved checklist.”
She snuggles back under the covers with a sigh.
I scroll through the message. Simple enough. “I can do this.”
“I know you can, because you’re my—”
I cut her off by touching my finger to her lips. “Go back to sleep. I’ll come and check on you later.”
If she calls me a hero again, I’ll break.
Back in my room, I blindly pull a shirt off a hanger while attempting to get the image of Maeve’s sweet little smile out from behind my eyes.
My phone buzzes with an incoming call. When I answer, Rory foregoes any greeting. “Progress report.”
He’s all business. Understandable given what he does for a living, and also because we’ve rarely spoken in the last several years. But I guess I thought after last night, he’d have loosened up.
We did basically kill a man together. That generally creates some camaraderie.
“Her books are so clean, they almost squeak. I only found one discrepancy. Payroll doesn’t cover the number of security guards milling around this place.
Which leads me to Doyle.” I put him on speaker to hop into my pants.
“He’s here. I’m about ninety-five percent sure he’s holed up in the penthouse suite with Declan and his sons.
I tried to sneak up to that floor, but I can’t even access the penthouse hallway without a code or a key card, and Maeve didn’t have one on her last night.
Peeking through the stairwell window, though, I spotted several guards. ”
Rory’s fingers click across his keypad. “Anything else?”
I sit on the edge of my bed to slip on my shoes. “I assume Connor’s up there, but I haven’t seen him. Brody’s like a jackrabbit, bouncing off the walls. Probably running all of Daddy’s errands. My guess is Declan doesn’t trust anybody’s eyes on Doyle but his own. And I don’t blame him.”
“Keep at it. We’ll figure out a way to break in. The important thing is, you’re having fun.”
His sarcasm interrupts me halfway through tying a knot on my Tom Fords. “Excuse me?”
“I’m just saying, we’re thrilled that you’re enjoying yourself on the West Coast, Kellin. Your happiness is of the highest concern for the Irish Kings.”
Tension bleeds into my shoulders.
Fuck. As long as I obtain results, why would Rory care what I’m doing?
And how does he even know? There are no cameras in Maeve’s room. None that I placed. If Rory has access to her private quarters…
“I can hear you thinking, Kellin. Did you forget about the camera from the hallway, just outside her door? The one you set up last night with a request for twenty-four seven monitoring that shows you entering last night and not coming out until this morning?”
I inhale. Exhale. “Finn is well aware of the lengths to which I will go for intel.”
“Sure, yeah, of course. Does Finn also know you’re fucking the target?”
I trap the growl in my throat and curl my free hand into a fist. “He knows I’m doing whatever’s necessary. If you’re asking whether I call him every ten minutes and give him a play-by-play, I do not. I’m pretty sure he has better things to do.”
“As long as Nolan Doyle remains in Declan’s clutches, none of us have anything better to do.”
“And, per instructions, I’m handling that. I was up half the night.”
“I’m sure you were.”
Rory’s lucky we’re currently on separate coasts.
I knew he was still a dick.
My jaw clenches until my teeth grind. “I went through every file in her home office. And her phone.”
“With her in the same room?”
I resist the urge to snap. Does her presence matter, as long as I got the job done?
Suck it up, Kellin. You’re reporting for work right now. “She was sleeping, man.” I yank at my shoelace. “Soundly.”
“Oh?” Now I can hear him thinking. His tone lightens with his next words, becoming damn near cheerful. “Oh. Got it. Good man.”
No, I am not. I am the absolute worst fucking man in existence.
Rory’s so pleased I drugged Maeve to scour through her files that he acts like I passed some kind of test.
This isn’t Pledge Week at the local frat. There’s nothing funny or praiseworthy about my actions. But the energy shifts, and I understand that I’ve regained some status in his eyes.
We’re buds again, bros, two guys who collaborated to kill another one last night, and now I’m drugging innocent women to get access to the head of the Port Kings so we can reclaim what’s ours.
And everybody’s happy.
Wonderful.
“Listen, Kellin.” Rory’s tapping away on that keyboard. “I’m Finn’s eyes and ears on the East Coast. It’s my job to ask the difficult questions. No hard feelings. You understand. But we appreciate your efforts. Very nice work.”
I shake my head. I didn’t realize I could hate myself, but here we are. “Thanks. I—”
“Just like it’s my job to report back about everything.”
Shit. If Finn thinks I’m too busy fucking to get the job done… “I need another week, Rory.”
The key clacking stops. “Are you asking me to hide details from Finn?”
“I’m telling you that I need more time to manage this situation and snatch Doyle.”
Rory laughs.
I glare at the screen. “Something funny?”
Rory’s laugh fades into a dark chuckle. “I’m just trying to imagine what kind of mess you’ll be in after another week at the Cypress.”
I blow out a breath. “Fuck you. I’m fully invested in this job.”
“Exactly. That’s my concern.”
“Well, lay your concerns to rest. I’ve got Maeve and Doyle handled.”
He snorts. “Whatever you say. But don’t forget that she’s Declan Gallagher’s daughter. You need to watch your back. And remember, we barely have a week left on his deadline.”
I hang up.
That conversation was truly awful, but I can’t let it derail me.
I need to get downstairs.
I can barely stand to look at myself in the mirror as I put on my tie.
In the lobby, Lenora spots me coming with that extra set of eyes she has in the back of her honey blond head. “Perfect timing.” She spins and beelines for me. “You look amazing. Not surprising. But, oh. Uh-oh…”
I peer down, checking to ensure my fly’s up. “‘Uh-oh’ what?”
“Are you…? No offense, but are you colorblind? It’s okay if you are. Lots of guys are. Like, twenty times the amount of guys compared to women.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re wearing a red tie with an olive green suit, Kellin. It isn’t Christmas. And not distinguishing between red and green is the universal sign for colorblind.”
That halts me in my tracks. I peer down again.
Shit. She’s not wrong.
“That suit is…” Lenora kisses her fingertips. “It’s bellissimo. Sorry to say, though, that tie has got to go. Follow me.”
The woman has me by the hand before I can argue, tugging me behind the counter.
“Lenora, let me just go to my room and grab another tie. I can see all the colors in the rainbow. This was simply an oversight.”
“Please, we have extras in the office behind the counter for these kinds of staff emergencies.” She tosses a little smile over her shoulder. “Don’t worry. They’re designer.”
Thirty seconds later, Lenora’s quick fingers replace the red tie around my neck.
This is Sunday school all over again.
Humiliating.
I deserve this.
At least the tie’s nice. A pretty slick midnight blue Givenchy.
I can see why Maeve says she can’t live without this woman. Her taste is impeccable.
And she drew me out of my headspace for a whole five minutes.
That’s true talent.
Now, if she could just permanently erase my guilt, I’d be in great shape.
But I guess she draws the line at working miracles.