CHAPTER NINETEEN
Balor
“ I need to stretch my legs.” Ella stands up and without waiting for a word from Trace or me, she strolls away.
Maybe she wants some space. We’ve been together since seven a.m.
I, like many other people around me, am glued to my phone. She isn’t. It makes me jealous how she can live in the real world, while I’m sucked into cyberspace and the dark web.
Even if it’s all in service to protect my family.
Ella moves languidly and explores the otherwise banal lobby with a few pops of colorful pieces of art on shelves of a massive bookcase on the opposite side of the dining area.
Outside, the snow piles up. A custom feed on my phone from the New York State Highway Department posts alerts and updates on snow removal plans.
It’s bad. Plows are grounded until the storm slows down. According to the weather reports, there’s a blizzard warning until sunrise.
The main highway is closed but they left smaller two-lane parkways open for local traffic. Still, they’re too treacherous to risk a journey home.
Why risk it when I have a roof over my head and a warm bed? Which bed, though?
Good Christ. What the hell do I do about this bed situation?
“Balor, can I speak to you?” Trace’s voice lifts my head.
“What’s up?” I look up at him.
“I didn’t want to say anything in front of Ella.” His words ring ominous.
“About?”
“The rooms you secured for us.” He pulls at his tie .
“Is there a problem?” Not that I can do much about it.
“There was only one bed.” His voice gets low.
“I know,” I say, nodding. “They saved ones with two queen beds for families and gave me ones with a king and sofa.”
“There wasn’t a sofa, and I’m pretty sure that bed was also a queen-size.” He clears his throat. “I’ll post outside your room and nap against the wall if I get tired.”
I exhale, knowing I would never make a guard sleep on the floor. Ella nailed it on the head earlier. What’s the point if they’re exhausted and stiff?
Stiff.
I hide a chuckle. Two months working for Lachlan and he’s got Trace and his brother, Rhys, trained like attack dogs who will turn away comfort.
Trace clears his throat and looks over at Ella, who’s plopped down into a wing chair and sipping from a can of soda.
“It’s none of my business, but you and Ella...” He must have seen something in my eyes because he doesn’t finish that sentence.
“You’re right. It’s none of your business.” I suck in a breath and harness the right way to feel about Trace’s intrusive and assuming words.
Griffin, Connor, and Shane work for my brothers and me. We’ve been aligned with those Quinlans for decades. They are as close to being our brothers as any other souls could be. Kieran was supposed to marry their sister, and we would have been bonded by that vow.
Norah Quinlan dying suddenly broke that alliance in name only, but spiritually, the Quinlans were always a top tributary family over any other Irish clan in Astoria.
Breaking the tension, I say, “Trace, I’ll stay in Ella’s room. It’s been a long day. We all need our sleep.”
Not that I plan to get any sleep if she’s next to me .
“I’ll tell Ella about the arrangements.” I give a squeeze to Trace’s arm. When I stand to get the feeling back in my legs and Trace doesn’t follow, I ask, “Are you coming?”
“I heard a man on the food line mention he’s a Marine who lost both legs.” Trace lifts his pant leg, showing me scarred flesh. “I was lucky. I’d like to buy the man a drink and see if he needs to talk. Opening up helps.”
It makes me wonder what the hell Trace went through with the Irish Defences that he would seek out an American stranger to talk to.
“You’re officially off duty, Trace. Shane hacked into all the cameras. We’re safe.” I shuffle toward the television area, hiding a smirk.
Trace wants to spend his night hanging out with a fellow wounded warrior, while I’ll be in the room next door, balls-deep in a woman I’ve been dying for since I left her in that hotel room in Los Angeles.