Chapter Eight
Rebecca
I stepped out of the shower and dried. Amy had left me a purple tracksuit, and I squeezed into it. I was curvier than her, and it hugged my ass, hips, and boobs. I’d have to brave going home soon.
“Jeez, woman, you are a vision of holy hotness.” Amy looked up as I stepped into the living area and grinned. “I’ve made coffee and I popped out for croissants.”
“Perfect.” I smiled and sat on the sofa I’d tried to sleep on the night before. But sleep had been hard to find. My mind had been whirring and adrenaline still circulating. Who the heck had been in my house? And what were they planning next?
“You really okay, Becca?” she asked.
“I guess.” I shrugged. “I’m just worried, this is escalating. It’s gone from notes to flowers to breaking and entering.”
“Yeah, you need to get to the police and fill them in.” She paused. “Have you any idea who it is?”
“A couple of thoughts. The police will be able to help me, hopefully.”
“And they can go and have a word. You can get a restraining order.”
My guts told me a restraining order wasn’t likely to be obeyed. Not if it was someone who was willing to stalk with this degree of determination. Not if it was someone who’d called prison home.
A ring sounded. The intercom system.
I jumped, my nerves still on edge. “You expecting anyone?”
“No.” Amy stood and went to the door. She peered at the screen then pressed the button. “Can I help you?”
“We’re here for Rebecca.”
The Irish twang had my body responding, a tremble, a quiver, and thrill I hadn’t expected.
“She’s not here.” Amy scowled at the speaker.
“Wait.” I rushed over. “Let me see.”
On the screen, in black and white, stood two tall male figures.
Finn and Cillian, and they didn’t look happy.
“We know she’s there, Amy,” Cillian said.
“How does he know my name?” Amy’s eyes widened.
“It’s okay.” I touched her shoulder. “Let them in, they’re friends…”
“Since when did you…ah, it’s them, the Irish twins, okay, now I get it.” She turned back to the screen. “She’s had a fright; you don’t upset her, got it?”
“Got it.” Finn stared straight at the camera, as though he could see me. “Now open the fuck up.”
She frowned but released the door. “Bossy bastards, aren’t they.”
I nodded and went to the mirror, checked my hair, and then my lips for croissant crumbs.
Finn and Cillian must have taken the stairs two at a time because they were at the door in seconds.
Amy opened it.
“Rebecca.” Finn raced to me and took me in his arms.
Cillian circled my body and pressed a kiss to my head.
“What…what are you doing here?” My eyes stung. Finally, I felt safe after my fright.
“We heard what happened, last night.”
“After we dropped you off.”
“How can you possibly know?” Amy said, placing her hands on her hips. “She didn’t call you and she came straight here.”
“We have ways of finding things out.”
“So you’re fucking stalking her as well.” Amy pointed at the door. “Out, I will not have my best friend being stalked, not by anyone.”
“Of course we’re not stalking her.” Finn scoped me up and down, clearly checking for injuries. “But we are here to make sure no bastard gets in her bedroom again. Gets anywhere near her for that matter.”
“How do you know that?” I asked.
“We have friends, contacts,” Cillian said.
“That’s not a good enough answer.” I frowned. I was done with mysteries and secrets.
“Our friend, Mitch Cooper, he’s a cop. We saw him this morning, and he mentioned what had happened.”
“He did, wow, that’s a coincidence.”
“A lucky one.” Finn turned to Amy. “He said to say hi, by the way.”
“What?” An instant flush turned her cheeks red. “He said that? Sergeant Cooper.”
“He sure did.” Cillian laughed. “Thought you were quite the cutie.”
“Oh well, I see…well, tell him he’s not so bad himself.”
“I will.” Cillian cupped my cheeks and turned me to face him. “We need to know everything, from the start.”
“There’s not much to tell. I’ve had a few creepy cards, a bunch of flowers, and then last night a rose and a note on my pillow.”
“What did the note say?” Finn asked.
“That it was time for us to be together.”
“Like fuck it is.” Anger flashed in Cillian’s eyes as he pushed his hand through his hair. “He’s just signed his own death warrant.”
“Have you any idea who it could be?” Finn asked.
“I have a couple of suspects in mind.”
“Past clients.” Cillian’s jaw tensed. “We need names.”
“I should go to the police and make a statement.”
“Sure you can, doll, once you’ve given us the names.”
I hesitated. “What are you going to do with that information?”
“Look them up, see if it’s possible that they’re the perpetrator. We gotta know what we’re dealing with here.”
“You should tell them, Becca,” Amy said. “I think you need all the help you can get on this one.
“She’s right,” Cillian said.
I sighed. “Okay, one of them is Mick Stone, armed robbery, thought he’d get off because he gave up two of his accomplices; he didn’t.
And the other is Reg Jacks, he went down for facilitating illegal immigration, but he got off lightly, he was trafficking, minors, too.
I did him a favor by reducing his charge, but he never thought so. ”
“Mick Stone and Reg Jacks.” Finn frowned. “Okay.”
Amy already had her phone out. “Okay, so Mick Stone is on Insta.”
“He is?” Cillian said. “Let’s see.”
Amy walked over, and we crowded around her phone.
“Seems he’s out of prison,” I said. “And living it up in the sun.”
“Where, though?” Finn asked.
“Here.” Amy pointed at a picture then clicked on it. “He’s in Dubai, and living there permanently judging by the comment beneath.”
Living it large, ain’t coming back to fucking miserable Blighty…ever.
“Okay, so we can pretty much rule him out.”
Amy drew up a picture of Mick Stone with his arm around a pretty blonde in a bikini. She had a snake tattoo around her waist.
“They’ve both got wedding rings on,” Cillian said. “He’s out there with his wife, I reckon.”
“Living off profits from previous robberies, no doubt.” Finn tutted.
“So Reg Jacks is the other one who keeps springing to mind,” I said. “Is he on Insta?”
Amy checked. “No, not that I can see.” Quickly, she googled him. The only thing that came up was information about his court trial four years ago. A headline in the Oxford Mail . Judge criticized for leniency in Jacks case .
“You think it could be him?” Finn asked.
I shuddered as I looked at his photo staring at me from the screen. He was balding but had dark stubble, and his flat nose was way too big for his face. And his eyes, they were narrow slits that held only dark hate. “Yes…he had a…”
“A what?” Finn asked, reaching for my hand and giving it a squeeze. “Tell us.”
“A bit of a thing for me.” I cleared my throat.
“He was overtly sexual toward me, the way he leered at me, his language and innuendos. I had to tell him several times that I would quit being his lawyer if he continued. He got four years. It was better than nothing, and at least it kept him away from women. He is a man with no respect for the opposite sex. A total misogynist.”
“Which would equate with a stalker.” Cillian’s lips drew into a pencil-thin line.
“It could be him,” I acknowledged. “And I’ll tell the police that.”
“We’ll come with you,” Finn said.
“No, it’s okay, I’m sure you’ve got things to do. The gym, don’t you need to—?”
“Our mate Phil is opening up for us, and you really think we’re going to let you wander around alone while this asshole is out there?”
“I—”
“It’s not up for negotiation,” Finn said. “If this eejit thinks you’re his prey, he’s got it all wrong, because he’s just become our prey, and we’re fucking fierce predators.”
The determination in Finn’s voice and the conviction in both of their eyes sent a tremble up my spine.
They weren’t afraid to take control of a situation I felt out of control in, and I was grateful for that.
I was also a little afraid just how far they’d go, because after what I’d witnessed last night, the only thing stopping them from killing was self-control.
And anger, fury, it made men do strange things, out-of-control things. The twins were mad, furious, and if Reg Jacks was stupid enough to step in their way, he’d know all about it.
* * * *
The police station visit was quick and efficient. I spoke to a female officer who assured me they’d be looking into Reg Jacks and paying him a visit. If their investigations turned anything up they’d let me know.
“Wanna grab some lunch?” Finn asked me as we wandered out into the sunshine.
“I am hungry,” I said. “But I want to go home, put my own clothes on.” I paused. “Will you guys come to the house with me? It’d be weird being there on my own, to start with, knowing he’s been in there.”
“Of course we will.” Cillian took my hand in his and kissed the back of my knuckles. We kept on walking. “We’ll check the place out for you, make sure your security is as good as it can be.”
“Thanks.” The thought of sleeping there later shot up my heart rate. I’d be lying in bed listening to every creak and bump thinking it was him back to get me.
“Hey, hey,” Finn said with a frown. “Stop worrying, we won’t let anything happen to you.”
“It’s kind of you to say that, and reassuring,” I said, “but realistically, we all have lives to get on with. Work and stuff.”
“Not today, today we’re all yours, so give yourself a break from worrying,” Cillian said. “It’s the weekend, after all.”
I managed a smile. “Yes, you’re right. Oh, and there’s a Waitrose, let’s dive in and I’ll get something to cook up for us.”
“Cook?” Cillian said.
I laughed. “Yes, cook food, you know, I make a mean carbonara if you fancy that for lunch.”
“Hell yeah.” Finn nodded. “We don’t get home-cooked food often, unless we go back to Ireland to see Ma, that is, so yeah, I could eat carbonara.”
My heart lightened, and I went around the shop dropping fresh pasta, cream, mushrooms, and ham into my basket. Finn grabbed a big carton of milk and Cillian a bottle of wine.
I glanced over my right shoulder, then my left, eyeing up the other shoppers.
Was he here? The asshole who had decided to torment me?
Was he following me right now? Spying on me, waiting to make his next move?
My stomach churned, and I took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and tried to steady my heart rate.
Then I spotted a couple of pretty young women fluttering their lashes at the twins. The women nudged one another and giggled, clearly liking what they saw.
Instantly, I felt lighter still. My guys were hot—guys, as in the plural. I had two men. And Cillian was right, I needed to give myself a break from worrying and have some fun. They made me feel safe, and that was just what I needed right now; until the police got on with their job, that was.
The house was cool and quiet. While Finn and Cillian checked for any signs of an intruder, I opened the kitchen window to let in the warm breeze and the birdsong.
After plonking all of the ingredients on the counter, I started cooking.
Finn wandered in wearing a serious expression. “He got in through your bedroom window.”
“What?” My eyes widened. “How do you know?”
“It’s open, you must have forgotten to shut it when you went out on Friday, and it’s got a trellis on the outside, with a step up onto it from your neighbor’s shed.
“Bloody hell. I’d never even thought of that, it’s like a ladder.”
“Exactly.” He held up a few leaves. “And these were on the floor. He must have gathered some foliage from that wisteria along his way.”
“Well, at least we know now.” I looked around the kitchen and into the living area. “And he wasn’t here. In this bit of the house.”
“No, I don’t reckon so.” Cillian stepped into the room and up to the counter. He shook the milk. “And now you know to keep that window shut.”
“Yes.” I eyed up the wine. “I know it’s early but I might have a glass.”
“Never too early.” Finn reached for the wine and then grabbed the bottle opener out of a utensil stand.
Cillian poured two tall glasses of milk, gave one to Finn and then passed me some wine. I didn’t feel guilty. It was a strange kind of a day.
Soon the kitchen was full of fragrance as the meal cooked. Finn told me stories from their childhood in County Wicklow. It seemed pranks that tormented the villagers were their main source of entertainment, and they had me laughing until I was breathless.
“This is amazing,” Cillian said, digging into his food. “Better than any Italian restaurant makes it.”
“I’m pleased you like it.” I got stuck into my favorite comfort meal. “It’s my mother’s recipe, she’s a great cook.”
“Do you see her much?” Finn asked.
“No, after her and Dad’s divorce she remarried, an Australian. She lives in Perth now.”
“Wow, long way off.”
“I try and go once a year, have at least three weeks there. It’s a nice part of the world, I don’t blame her for going.”
“And your father?” Finn asked.
“I lost him, about five years ago. Cancer.” I took a slug of wine.
“I’m sorry,” Finn said.
“Yeah, that’s rough.” Cillian downturned his mouth and frowned. “Hard to loose your pa.”
“It was.”
Finn poured wine for him and Cillian then added more Parmesan to his meal.
“You’re not training at the gym today?” I asked.
“No, rare day off.” Cillian grinned and reached for garlic bread. “But we’ll make up for it tomorrow.”
“Come with us, tomorrow,” Finn said. “We can show you around the gym.”
“I’d like that…on one condition.”
“Go on?” Cillian paused, his fork halfway to his mouth.
“You don’t expect me to work out, that’s not my thing, not at all.”
“You definitely don’t have to work out.” Finn smiled. “Might be for the best, because if those assholes started checking out your Lycra-clad ass we’d have to knock ’em out.”
“Yeah,” Cillian muttered. “Too right. Assholes.”
I looked between them and was again aware of something deeper lurking beneath their surface. What was it? I couldn’t put my finger on it but I knew it was there.
There was still a lot to learn about Finn and Cillian Sullivan. I’d find out some of it, but likely it would take a lifetime to really know them.