15. Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Fifteen
Finn
W hat game is Evander playing? He used real names at the hotel check-in, no aliases, a flare in the sky to anyone looking. Who is he trying to flush out? Me? The PLA? Someone else? The bombing in Cape Verde and the confetti bomb indicate Carys has powerful enemies. Does Pierre-Jacques have eyes in the hotel? Contacts at the airport? He knew she arrived in Ireland before we did. Them tracking her makes my blood boil.
Lorcan, Kim, and I circle the hotel several times before they leave me at a rear entrance to enter the lobby without me. Since no one is supposed to realize I’m working for the FBI and CIA in a joint operation to take down the PLA, I’m a wanted fugitive. Being out in public, somewhere as high traffic as this is risky. No matter the consequences, I need to see Carys and make her return to Cape Verde. I don’t know what the PLA is up to, but if they’re okay with her being in the country, and Zahir cleared her interference with the government, she needs to be far away from whatever happens. I don’t make bets I can’t win, and I sure as hell am not playing with Carys’s life as currency.
The back door pops open beside me, and Kim is framed in the doorway. She blocks my entrance.
“Where’s Lorcan?” My tone is wary.
“ Lachlan is on the third floor as backup for your tryst. Jay is in 320, and Carys is in 322. They’re both eating in the hotel restaurant right now.”
Annoyance zips through me at being babysat by my little brother, but I tamp it down. My priority is getting her out of Ireland, and if I have to put up with Kim and Lorcan thinking they’re in charge, I can do that. “Key?” I hold out my hand, and she drops a metal key into it. “I didn’t realize places still used these.”
“All over Europe.” She rolls her eyes and steps back to let me enter. “Stairs are to your right. You’ve got your phone?”
After our meeting with Pierre-Jacques, I convinced them to stop and get me a burner. It doesn’t connect to the internet, so it’s useless apart from numbers already programmed into it or ones in my brain. God forbid they give me too much freedom. At least I’ll have a way to check in on Carys once she leaves, and the ability to maintain contact with Lorcan and Kim if we’re split up by the PLA. Just because Pierre-Jacques thinks they’re valuable now doesn’t mean he will later. I’m well aware of how allegiances and loyalties can change with unproven staff. As far as he knows, they’re disposable, even if for some reason I’m not.
I wave the device at her, but before I can leave, she grips my forearm. Glancing at her hand, I slowly lift my gaze to hers. She snatches her hand away as though I’ve burned her. We’re not friends, and I won’t pretend we’ve buried the hatchet. It’s still possible she’ll bury hers in my spine. Lorcan has been the buffer between us for the last twenty-four hours, and without him around, I don’t have a clue what will come out of her mouth.
“You need to stop calling him Lorcan, even in private. You’re used to bucking authority and doing whatever you want. I get that. But you’re playing with his life. Consistency is key. Lorcan is dead. As far as the world knows, you killed him. Lachlan isn’t your brother. You don’t know each other.”
The key is heavy in my palm, and I study her. Her distaste for me radiates off her. The speech is authentic, though. Was she like this in my house? We danced around each other, and I was never sure if we were going to rip each other’s clothes off or murder one another. At the time, either outcome would’ve been fine. I bet it irks her that she ever desired someone as evil as me, somebody who played a hand in the destruction of her family. Doesn’t mean the pilot light wasn’t on, waiting for us to flip the switch and ignite the flame. To do this job and love every part of my brother, there has to be darkness in her too. Maybe, believing it’s the light in my brother she loves helps her sleep at night. Her hands aren’t clean. Reminds me of what I love about Carys—she never pretends to be something she’s not.
“Consider the message received.” I amble toward the stairs.
“You’re going to make Carys leave?” Kim calls after me along the deserted hallway.
I chuckle. “You think she listens to me?”
“It’s not safe here for her.” She follows me. “She’s better off in Cape Verde.” When I don’t turn around, Kim lets out a frustrated noise. “I can’t imagine you putting up with somebody who doesn’t obey you.”
I smirk at her over my shoulder before heading into the stairwell entrance. “Ah, see.” I put my foot on the first stair and face her. “This is when you don’t know me as well as you think. Even I understand relationships don’t work that way.” Then I take the stairs two at a time, content to leave her stewing in her assumptions.
She’s not too far off about my character, or at least who I used to be. I’ve never shared authority before, not even with Lorcan when we were business partners and brothers. I might have taken his opinions into consideration, but the final decisions fell on my plate. With Carys, I don’t have that luxury. Any time we make choices without each other, we’re slaves to our weaknesses. So, while I’m prepared to tell her she can’t stay, I’m not na?ve enough to believe she’ll listen without question. That’s not how we work best.
When I reach her door, I spy Lorcan at the end of the hallway near the opposite stairwell. He ignores me and gazes out the tiny window. Both our phones go off at the same time. When I check mine, there’s a message from Kim. Carys has left the restaurant. My phone buzzes again.
Just a reminder not to scare Carys. Her scream would break your cover. Keep a light on in the room so she sees you.
Irritation makes my jaw clench. Kim’s going to be a thorn in my side, reminding me of my shortcomings at every turn. Under different circumstances, I might have sat in the dark, but I’m not an idiot. I close the message without responding. Maybe if I don’t engage with her, she’ll stop treating me like a loose cannon. After I enter the room, I decide maybe I will respond after all.
If you hear her screaming, it won’t be from fear.
Satisfied, I slip my phone into my pocket and turn on both bedside lamps, but I leave the main lights off. No point in flooding this tiny place with light. If Carys booked the hotel, she’d have sprung for a suite. She’s not going to be pleased with this shoebox, whether or not it’s a standard European size.
The lock flips, the door cracks, and my heart thuds. Outside the doorway, Carys speaks in low tones to Jay. If she peered in now, she’d see me. The anticipation of being with her makes my cock twitch. I’ve missed having her close enough to touch. Conversations that can last as long as we want, or cover any topic we want, because no one is looking over our shoulders. Other than our brief meeting in jail a few weeks ago, I haven’t been able to come near her. My last memory of holding her tight is when I turned myself in. Not the most pleasant recollection.
Her head is down when she enters the room, and she pushes the door closed. Her forehead falls against the old wood. Her hands are braced on either side of her, as though she’s shoring up her strength to keep going. Probably a long day of travel for her on top of countless hours of uncertainty. Still, I drink her in.
From the edge of the bed, I observe her for a beat. So sad, but so fucking lovely. “I didn’t mean to worry you.” My voice is gruff.
She jumps and gasps, then whips around to face me. Surprise and shock register on her features before she takes the three steps from the door to the bed and tackles me. As soon as my shoulders hit the mattress, she straddles me and buries her face in my neck. Her lips tremble against my skin, and I ease my hand along her narrow back. So good . She presses her forehead to my temple, and a strained noise escapes. Then her body is wracked with deep, unexpected sobs.
“Hey.” My tone is gentle. “Hey. What is this about?”
She clings to me and cries, and I hold her, unsure if I should say more or say nothing. After not being allowed to touch her for so long, she seems fragile—tiny—in my arms. I run my hands along her body, categorizing everything from her arms to her ankles. I savor the feel of her, lingering on her cast, forcing down my fear and anxiety that anyone got to her. I wasn’t there, and someone hurt her. Is she crying because she was afraid? My gut clenches. I should have ignored Zahir’s directive and contacted her anyway.
“I wasn’t—” Her voice hitches. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to do this again.”
My heart softens, and the tension in my body leaks out of me. Her tears aren’t from fear; they’re relief. I squeeze her tighter and let my joy seep in. Maybe I don’t deserve to have somebody love me like this, but I’m not giving her up. She’s my home. Wherever she is, that’s where I intend to be when my prison term is done. Having her secured in my arms is the best thing to ever happen to me. No matter what, we’ll be together.
Then I remember I have to ask her to leave, and we’re probably going to fight. If I was a better man, I’d meet the conflict head-on. Tell her straight up she can’t stay.
But I haven’t been this close to her in months, this free to touch her or revel in her curves and the lines of her face. I haven’t been able to brush away her tears with my lips. I wasn’t there when she broke her wrist or when she was too tired to get up with Lucas at night, when she needed the release only I can provide. Most of those, I still can’t do and won’t be able to do for years. Three years is better than never. So, I’ll cling to that glimmer of hope while I give her what I can now.
She sits up and wipes her tears with her palms, then searches the room for tissues.
“Behind you,” I say, gently. “On the nightstand.”
She climbs off me. My urge is to dig my fingers into her hips and will her to stay where she is. The better man in me might emerge if she isn’t flattened against me. For months I’ve been keeping my longing for her at bay for fear of going insane. When she’s not so close, rational ideas return. I have to tell her to go.
In the tiny en suite, she calls out to me, “I’m such a mess. God, this is not how I pictured seeing you again.”
I chuckle and follow her into the bathroom. She’s the sun I rotate around, unable to stay away, even when I should. She’s puffy from crying, and her mascara has smudged under her eyes, but she’ll never be anything but beautiful to me. I frame her face and kiss her. Tenderness for her is an ache in my chest. When I pull away, she searches my eyes, the questions she’s not asking float across her expression. But none of them stick. Maybe she can sense she doesn’t want the answers.
“We can do this,” she whispers. “There’s no one telling us we can’t be together anymore.”
In the instant I have to set her straight, I can’t do it. It’s not in me to hurt her again so quickly. Then she rises on her toes and her lips are on mine. Slanting to deepen the kiss, her fingers dig into my neck. Our tongues tangle in a dance we’ve done a thousand times. The reasons I should step back and suggest we talk first fade away. Reason and ration can wait. There’s nothing I want more than to drown in her. I’m going to let myself sink in; sink so far in I’ll have to use superhuman effort to haul myself out. We’ve got tonight, or however long Lorcan and Kim give me before they pound on the door, and I’m not going to waste a moment of it second-guessing myself. Carys is mine, and I intend to remind her that, at least in some ways, I’m worth the wait. I’ll be worth the wait forever.