Chapter 11
ELEVEN
“Absolutely not.” Cormac crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Lucy.
She stood with her hands planted on her hips—a pose she seemed to favor, Cormac had noticed—and returned his glare with equal intensity.
“Cormac, I need clothing.”
“We’ll order some.”
“I need my laptop.”
“You can use mine.”
“I can’t,” she insisted, “because you don’t have the software I use to do my work, and you don’t have all my in-progress projects saved on your hard drive.”
Gritting his teeth, Cormac turned to the stove. He poured beaten eggs into a sizzling pan and used the few minutes of cooking time to gather his thoughts. By the time he pushed a plate of steaming scrambled eggs toward Lucy, he felt calmer. More rational.
Sort of.
“I’ll go with you to your apartment, but you have to follow my lead.”
She speared a curd of scrambled egg and narrowed her eyes. Cormac’s stomach fisted. She was gorgeous in the morning, sleepy-eyed and red-cheeked. When she’d first walked out of the bedroom, his heart had stuttered. What would it be like to have her in his bed as the sun came up? How would it feel to see her open her eyes and smile at him?
Mercilessly tearing those thoughts to pieces, he straightened and met her gaze. “Agreed?”
“What does following your lead actually mean?”
“It means if I tell you to get back in the car, you get back in the car. If I say it’s not safe to go inside, you don’t go inside.”
Her lips bunched to the side, and she dropped her eyes to her plate, mulling over his words. She picked up a triangle of golden toast and inspected it. Evidently finding the butter coverage adequate, Lucy took a bite, chewed, and swallowed. Then she met his gaze. “Fine,” she finally replied.
“Good.”
When Lucy had finished her food, Cormac felt a bit better.
Lucy met his gaze and asked, “Have you heard from the police?”
He shook his head. “Elton was able to get the plates from their getaway vehicle, but they haven’t found it yet. Phillips wasn’t at home or at his shop, so they’re looking for his family and friends. We haven’t been able to confirm it was him that threw the device under your car, which makes things more complicated. He needs to be brought in and questioned.”
“So…what’s the plan?”
“Get your things. Keep you safe.”
“What about your other clients?”
“It’s under control,” Cormac replied. He’d gone through his emails and shuffled the schedule for the week so he could work from home while the rest of his team managed call-outs and in-person jobs. Marlon would be away for another two weeks, which was unfortunate, but Cormac would manage.
They’d tidied the kitchen when Lucy took a deep breath, as if she was preparing to say something.
Cormac turned to face her, waiting.
“About last night,” she said, lifting her gaze to meet his with what looked like a superhuman effort. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
He shook his head, heart galloping. Lying in bed the previous night, he’d had a lot of time to think about his own actions. He was ashamed of himself. He’d acted like a brute, pouncing on a vulnerable woman. That wasn’t the kind of man he wanted to be. “You didn’t. I’m the one that’s sorry. I took advantage of you after you’d had a rough day. I should never have touched you.”
She jerked her head back, frowning slightly. “It’s not like I didn’t know what I was doing, Cormac. I participated just as much as you did.”
Oh, he was well aware. He could still feel her grinding herself against him, still remembered how hot she’d felt even through their layers of clothes. “You’re here because you’re in danger and I can protect you,” he gritted out, as much to remind himself as anything else. She was a client, first and foremost.
But that wasn’t quite true, was it? How many clients had he brought to his home because they’d been in danger?
It wasn’t hard to dredge up the answer: none. Lucy was the only person he’d felt compelled to bundle into his vehicle and take here, where he knew she’d be safe. She was the only one he’d wanted to take behind the walls of his impenetrable fortress, because the thought of her being on the outside, alone, vulnerable, made him want to scream.
But that didn’t mean he could hook up with her. He wasn’t the type of man who took advantage of a defenseless woman in a vulnerable situation.
Lucy’s fingers rose up to brush her bottom lip, and Cormac wondered if she was remembering how it had felt to kiss him. He sure as hell was remembering it—in vivid detail. Hadn’t been able to stop remembering it since the moment it happened. His fingers tingled with the need to hold her, so he curled them into fists.
“So, we’ll just put it behind us and forget it ever happened,” Lucy said, wrapping her arms around herself.
“Yes,” he answered with a dip of his chin. “Grab what you need. We’ll head to your place as soon as you’re ready.”
The street outside Lucy’s apartment was quiet. It was midmorning on a Sunday, so most people were likely either out enjoying the sunshine at one of the nearby parks or lying in bed for a lazy morning. The sun shone down on the worn pavement, intrepid weeds struggling to poke through every crack in the sidewalk. Lucy stared out the passenger window of Cormac’s SUV, seeing her apartment with new eyes.
It was a run-down dump. The front door hung crooked, its latch not fully engaged. Anyone could be in there, waiting for her. The brick was dull brown, cracks spidering through the mortar throughout the front of the building. In one of the windows on the top floor, a cat stared out over its domain, watching the street with eerie stillness.
Lucy gulped and tried to push her fear down to a manageable level. She’d go in, get her clothes, her computer, and the orders she needed to ship, and then they’d get out. She could set up camp at Cormac’s place to prepare her pitch for Juniper and Sage, and the police would find whoever blew up her car, and everything would be just fine.
A warm hand slid over her knee. “You okay?” Cormac asked quietly. “We don’t have to go up there if you don’t want to. Or I can take you home and come back to grab whatever you need on my own.”
Lucy shook her head. “No, it’s all right. It’s just… After everything that happened with my sales career, I had to downsize to this apartment. And I know it’s nothing fancy—nothing like your place—but it became like a sanctuary to me. It’s where I built myself back up. And now…”
“Now it doesn’t feel so safe anymore.”
“Exactly.” She turned to look at Cormac, who had a grim look of understanding on his face. For a moment, his gaze turned inward, then he shook it off and squeezed her knee. “I’ll be right beside you. I won’t let anything happen to you, Lucy.”
Her heart thumped. He was a bastard for saying things like that to her, in that warm tone, while also telling her he regretted kissing her. The mixed messages were giving her whiplash.
Taking a deep breath, she opened her door. Cormac was at her side in an instant, and they entered the building together. It still smelled like decades of cigarette smoke and too many roaming cats. In front of them, on the left side, was a hallway leading to the building’s back exit, lined with ground-floor apartments. Beside the hallway, the stairway leading up to the upper stories beckoned. The old linoleum on the stairs creaked and squeaked as they made their way up to Lucy’s apartment, the only other noise the sound of their breaths.
Outside Lucy’s door, Cormac scanned the landing and both sets of stairs going up and down, motioning for her to stand still. Satisfied, he held out his hand.
Confused, Lucy stared at the palm. Not sure what he wanted, she slowly slid her hand against his and shook it, pumping twice. “Thanks,” she said. “Good work.”
Cormac’s fingers curled around her palm, and amusement lit the dark depths of his eyes. “No problem,” he replied, “but I was asking for your keys.”
“Oh,” she said. Cheeks burning, she pulled her hand back and plucked her keys out of her purse. Handing them over without being able to meet his gaze, she caught the edge of a smile curling his lips. Then he unlocked the door, told her to stand just inside, and did a quick sweep of the apartment.
“Clear,” he said, reappearing in her bedroom doorway. He crossed the small space and turned the lock on her front door. “Grab what you need and we’ll head out.”
“Yes, sir.” She headed first to the bedroom, finding it just as she’d left it. Grabbing enough clothing for a week, she shoved it all inside her suitcase and paused. Would she need more than a week’s worth of clothes? How long would this nightmare last?
Shaking her head, she moved to the bathroom. A week would have to be enough. Any longer, and she’d go crazy. Toiletries and makeup were next, and then she moved to the living room to start packing up her work gear.
“I’ve already shipped most of my recent orders because I wanted to clear my schedule before the Expo,” she explained, “but I still have these two boxes to send out.”
Cormac nodded, grabbing the boxes and tucking them under his arm. Once Lucy had her laptop and the rest of her work necessities in her bag, she zipped her suitcase up and rolled it to the front door.
“Got everything?” Cormac asked, reaching for her case.
“I think so.”
They went downstairs and made it to the lobby when Lucy’s phone rang. She grimaced, giving Cormac an apologetic glance. “It’s my mother. Do you mind? I texted her last night but never returned her calls. She’s probably worried sick.”
He nodded. “I’ll be just outside.”
She watched him through the grimy front door as he hauled her suitcase into the trunk of his car, his head on a swivel as he scanned the street.
“Hi, Mom,” she said into the phone.
“Lucy!” the other woman screeched. “What’s this about your car? It exploded? Why? What’s going on? Are you okay? I told you not to go to that event. I knew something like this would happen!”
Rubbing her forehead, Lucy forced her voice to remain calm. “I’m fine, Mom. I’m with Cormac, the guy I hired for security.” She glanced outside the window to see Cormac looming near the building entrance, his back to her as he stood guard. He was a lot more than just the guy she hired, wasn’t he? He was thoughtful, and protective, and he had a monster sweet tooth. He was a great kisser, and he?—
“Have you called the police? Come home, Lucy. Your father wants to speak to you.” A shuffle, and then her dad’s voice came on the line. “Pumpkin?”
“Hi, Dad. I’m fine. I’m staying at Cormac’s and he’s helping me talk to the police. Everything is under control.” It was a blatant lie, but she needed to calm them down.
There was a brief silence, and then her father said, “Stay close to him, Lucy.”
It surprised her to hear her father’s endorsement of Cormac. He’d never particularly liked any of her boyfriends; none of them were good enough in his eyes. After a few more short exchanges, Lucy hung up the phone and let out a breath.
Paradoxically, her parents’ worried voices had calmed her. They’d seemed supportive of her staying with Cormac, which eased some of the worry in Lucy’s mind. She glanced at his broad back through the window, resolving to respect whatever boundaries he wanted to maintain.
Maybe he was right. Her emotions were all over the place, and the last thing she needed to do was add sex to the mix.
“Knew you’d come back here,” a quiet voice said from behind her.
Whirling around, Lucy inhaled sharply at the sight of Aaron Phillips creeping toward her from the hallway leading to the back door. His clothes were rumpled, and his face was splotched with red. His eyes were dark and feverish, as if he were fighting some deadly infection. He stumbled on a crack in the linoleum and caught himself against the old, textured wallpaper.
“You’ve ruined everything with your antics.”
Lucy backed toward the door. “My antics? What are you talking about?”
“You just had to elbow your way onto my turf, didn’t you?”
“Your turf? What are you talking about?”
“Everything was going great until you showed up. Thought you could outsmart us, did you?” He advanced, steps wavering, fists clenched. “Taunting me. Asking me questions you already knew the answer to.”
“Who’s us? What are you talking about?” Lucy nearly yelled the words, her heart pounding. She wanted to scream for Cormac to come save her, but Aaron wasn’t far away. If he lunged at her, he would do some damage. Lucy would fight him off for all she was worth, but she’d never hit anyone. The thought of fighting for her life made her muscles turn to stone.
A bark of a laugh. “I know what you really sell, up here in your little apart—” His eyes widened as he looked over her shoulder.
A waft of cool air told her the door had opened, and Cormac rushed inside like a malevolent spirit. Aaron whirled and ran down the hallway. The back door clanged, and Cormac skidded to a stop and turned toward Lucy. His eyes were wild and dark and bottomless. He swept toward her and scooped an arm around her back, guiding her to the exit. He opened the front door for her as he scanned the street.
“You’re not going after him?”
“I’m not leaving you alone,” he said in a low, gravelly voice. He bundled her into his car and jogged to the driver’s side, and a moment later they were off. Knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel, Cormac scanned the street like he expected a tank to rumble down and start blasting at them. A vein stood out on his temple, and his jaw muscles clenched and unclenched.
The air seemed to grow thinner. Lucy couldn’t get enough oxygen. She gripped the car door and stared out the windshield as Cormac drove, her heart rattling an irregular beat against her ribcage. Her body was acting strange; legs twitching, fingers curling and uncurling. She sucked in another reedy breath.
When the Bluetooth speaker on the car trilled with an incoming phone call, Lucy jumped so hard she banged her elbow against the window. Cormac glared at the console screen like he could send the caller running with nothing more than his glare.
Then his shoulders relaxed.
He clicked a button on the steering wheel. “Hey Mom, now isn’t a great time.”
A siren sounded over the phone. “Honey, the system has lost its mind! I can’t turn this stupid alarm off!” There was a grunt, and the siren changed from a long beep, beep, beep to a rapid and ear-splitting whoopwhoopwhoopwhoop .
“Stop pressing buttons,” Cormac growled.
“Stupid thing! I’m ripping it off the wall! I never wanted this thing in the first place!”
“Mom!”
The call ended abruptly, and Cormac swore. He changed lanes and cut down a side street. The phone rang again, this time with Elton’s name on the screen.
“Getting alerts from your mom’s house,” he said when Cormac answered.
“I’m on my way.”
“Need backup?”
“Don’t think so. I think she accidentally armed it for nighttime then opened the door.”
“Copy.”
“Just ran into Phillips,” Cormac added, his jaw clenching on the man’s name, “at Lucy’s apartment. Looked bad, like he’s been roughing it. Dark windbreaker, no hat, jeans.”
Lucy blinked. She hadn’t even noticed what Aaron Phillips had been wearing. She’d been too alarmed by the fact that he was there and talking nonsense to take anything else in.
“He could have changed after the bomb went off,” Elton said over the speakers, and Lucy realized Cormac had mentioned Phillips’s clothes because they didn’t match the bomber’s.
“Yeah. He ran out the back. Can you track him?”
“I’ll try, but I haven’t got access to many cameras in that end of town. Did you see which direction he ran?”
“No. I needed to get Lucy out of there.”
“Got it. I’ll see what I can do. Still don’t need backup?”
“Phillips ran when he saw me. He’ll come at us again, but I think we’re okay for a little while. He wasn’t ready for a confrontation.”
“I’ll let you know when I find something.”
When the line clicked, Cormac glanced over. “You mind making a pit stop?”
“Not at all,” Lucy answered, her body having relaxed slightly, her heart rate returning to normal. Listening to the phone calls had jarred her out of her panic and allowed her breathing to slow. Plus, Cormac had said he thought they had a little while before Phillips would show up again. That was a good thing. “Is your mom okay?”
“She’s fine. This used to happen all the time until she learned how to use the control panel.”
They drove to one of the neighborhoods of Stirling that used to be quite rough. In the past decade or so, the area had been cleaned up, and property prices had skyrocketed. Now, instead of overgrown lawns and suspected drug dens, the streets were lined with new builds and manicured gardens.
Lucy was surprised when they pulled up in front of a house that was clearly older than its neighbors. It was a single-story brick build with a roof that looked like it had recently been replaced. Pavers led from the sidewalk to the front door, which was framed by two square columns and a small porch.
On the single step leading to the porch sat a woman who looked to be in her early sixties. She had her fingers plugging her ears and a scowl on her face. She stood, glaring at the SUV until Cormac came out. Lucy slipped out in time to hear the woman say, “Get that alarm out of my house, Cormac. I don’t want it. Never did.”
Cormac stalked up the stairs and turned to the wall just inside the front door. From her vantage point, Lucy could see his arm and shoulder move as he pressed a button on the wall. The alarm stopped mid-whoop.
The woman sighed. “Finally.”
“You set it for nighttime and then opened the door, Mom,” Cormac explained.
She lifted a finger and pointed it at him. “I don’t want to hear it! I don’t want to hear a word about this, Cormac. I want you to take all your electronics and throw them in the trash where they belong. And if you don’t, I will.”
For the first time since she’d met the big, stoic, serious man, she saw something like long-suffering annoyance on his face. “Mom,” he started.
“No. I’ve had enough. This is my house, Cormac. I’ve lived here for forty years. I have a right to decide what kind of security system I want, and this”—she waved her arms at the house in a dramatic windmill motion—“is not it.”
He gritted his teeth. “You didn’t want to move, so we compromised.”
“No, you bullied me into this.” Another windmill in the house’s direction, and then a horizontal slice through the air. “I’m done .”
“We can simplify the system,” Cormac conceded, “have it controlled remotely?—”
“And another thing!” The woman was clearly in no mood to listen to her son. “You didn’t even call to tell me you wouldn’t make it to dinner yesterday, Cormac. Just one text! That’s all I ask.”
Cormac opened his mouth, but Lucy spoke before he could. “That was my fault,” she said. “I, uh, caused an incident, and Cormac had to, um, essentially…save me.”
The woman whirled, then froze. She straightened, her head tilting. “He did?”
“My car exploded,” Lucy explained, “so Cormac had to take me to his place because my apartment wasn’t safe. So if he missed dinner, it was because of me.” She pinched her lips and smiled. “But the alarm is definitely his fault.”
The woman snorted, then turned and glanced at her son. Frowning, she faced Lucy again. “The Wedding Expo explosion?”
Lucy nodded. “That was my car.”
The woman frowned. “And Cormac took you back to his apartment? Not his office?”
Cormac stood in the doorway, grimacing. Lucy’s gaze flicked from him to his mother. “Uh—yes. Yes, he did. I mean, he took me to the office first, but then we went to his apartment, and…”
The smile that lit the other woman’s face rivaled the brightness of the sun. She spread her arms. “Cormac, why didn’t you tell me you had a guest?” she asked while studying Lucy from head to toe. She definitely noticed that Lucy was still wearing Cormac’s sweater, because her smile, impossibly, got wider. She beckoned impatiently. “Well, don’t just stand there. Come on in! What did you say your name was?”