Chapter 41
LIAM
Leaving Rebel asleep in my bed after a night of tangled limbs and multiple orgasms is tantamount to torture, but I need to talk to Patrick again. I was so fucking desperate to return to her last night that I dropped a hasty update about Murray, then split.
But the Aisling thing is gnawing at me, like there’s a puzzle piece hidden in plain sight. I hardly knew her. Only recalled her car accident because Murray’s conversation with his mother pushed me to look it up.
Why, in his fucked-up mind, does he think I’m somehow to blame?
It’s time to pick him up and get some answers.
Whatever intel Patrick is gathering, it needs to have a fucking rocket put up its arse.
I agreed to wait, but that was before I overheard the phone call.
My gut tells me that Murray won’t need much encouragement to start yapping.
Patrick’s study door is shut. I rap once and enter. He holds up a finger, phone propped against his ear, freeing his hands which are tapping on his computer keyboard.
“Approved. Report back when it’s done.” He hangs up, jerking his chin at me, a smirk on his lips. “Thanks for keeping the fucking house awake last night.”
I ignore him. Couldn’t give a shite, truth be told. “What was that about?”
“Nothing important. You and your girl made up then?”
I pop a shoulder, pulling out the guest chair and dropping into it. “It’s time to move on Murray.”
“This because of the Aisling thing?”
“Yeah.” I scrub a hand over my chin. “I’m giving myself a headache trying to work out why the fuck the mad bastard thinks I’ve got anything to do with his sister dying. My guess is he’ll be too eager to tell me why. So, let’s give him what he wants.”
“Can’t hurt. The intel reports haven’t thrown up anything like corruption or his strings being pulled by a higher power. From what I can tell, he’s not being funded by an enemy. And after what you overheard, it sounds like a grudge match, pure and simple.”
I was ready to ignore Patrick’s order to stand down if he still wanted me to wait, but it makes life easier if he’s onside. I get up. “I’ll go grab him.”
“Why don’t you get Rowan to call him? Arrange to meet?”
“Why the fuck would I do that?”
“Because he’s a gard. Because snatching a police officer will only bring attention I’d rather not have, given the shipment we have arriving this week. Better that he comes willingly.”
“Right.” The guns. “I hate the idea of her speaking to that fucker at all.”
“Then get her to text him. Have her inform him that you’ve snatched her but she’s managed to get away. That she needs his protection. That’ll explain why she’s in Ireland when he still thinks she’s in England, and it plays to his ego.”
There’s a reason my brother is the head of our family, and it’s not solely because he’s the eldest. He’s also fucking smart. He’s the strategic one, I’m the hotheaded muscle, and Darragh is the tech whiz. It’s why our business keeps growing when our enemies are flailing.
“That brain of yours must give you a permanent fucking headache.”
“What gives me a fucking headache is usually you.”
“Liam gives us all a headache.”
I glance over my shoulder at Darragh. “Sneaky fucker. Didn’t even hear you come in.”
“I have news.” He flops into the chair opposite Patrick’s desk, his expression as smug as smug can get.
“Go on,” Patrick says.
“Murray’s insurance policy is gone. Wiped. Finitoed.” He brushes his palms against each other, then blows on his fingertips and scrapes them on his chest.
“How?” I’m once again amazed at my brother’s tech wizardry. Most of it goes over my head.
“I’m a fucking genius, that’s how. Murray was using a standard Garda-issued backup drive with a remote-wipe trigger. I intercepted the uplink. He thinks he’s holding a detonator, but I’ve turned it into a paperweight. He has nothing on us anymore.”
I don’t even pretend to understand any of the jargon, but the last sentence says all I need to know.
“Even more reason to grab him. I’ll go get Rowan to send him a text. Time’s up for that fucker.”
The sound of running water greets me when I open the door to my bedroom. I enter the bathroom. The shower stall is steamed up, but not enough that I can’t see the outline of Rowan’s body, water glistening off her body as she soaps herself up. She hasn’t heard me.
Fuck it. Murray can wait another five minutes.
I strip off and slip inside the shower, sliding my hands around her waist. She squeals, then relaxes into me.
“You scared me.”
“You should be scared.” I slide two fingers inside her. “I’m going to fucking wreck you.”
“You already did last night.”
I still my hand. “You sore?”
“A little.”
“Want me to stop?”
She shifts her arse, grinding against my dick. “No.”
I thumb her clit, rubbing in tiny circles. She whimpers, head thrown back against my shoulder. “So good.”
Sliding my palm over her ribs, her breasts, I cup her throat and tighten my grip. Her lusty groan echoes through my chest. “You like that?” She used to love me fucking her with my hand around her throat, but people’s desires can change.
“Tighter.”
Seemingly not hers. I do as she asks, pressing lightly on the sides of her throat. Not enough to cause her discomfort, but the right amount to force those garbled sounds from her.
Our first time since we reconnected was borne from five years of agony, false betrayal, and pain. So much pain. Last night was all about rediscovering each other. This… this is pure lust.
I brace both hands on her hips, lift her a few inches, and drive home. “Hands on the wall.” When I’m seated inside her, I resume my previous hand positions. One on her throat, the other playing with her clit.
“God. Christ.” She circles her hips, clenching around my dick. “Harder.”
I burrow deeper inside her, my thrusts slow, controlled. Until they’re not. My balls tighten, heat at the base of my spine spreading out until my body feels as though I’ve been set on fire. “Fuck. Close.”
“Me, too. So good. So fucking good. Don’t stop.”
I speed up thumbing her clit. I can’t hang on much longer. “Shit, hurry. Fuck.”
“I’m there. Right fucking… argh.” Her muscles ripple along the length of my dick.
I explode, coming, coming, filling her, claiming her.
“Mine,” I growl in her ear. “Say it, Rebel.”
“Yours. Always yours.”
I slide out of her, turning her in my arms. Cupping her face, I lower down to kiss her. “You’re a dangerous woman.”
“How so?”
“Because I can’t control myself around you.”
“That sounds like a you problem.” She giggles, and I fall deeper in love with her.
I swaddle her in a towel and wrap one around my waist. “Sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up.”
“Another apology?” She tilts her head, her lips still smile shaped, and holds the back of her hand to my forehead like she’s checking for illness or a temperature. “I’m beginning to worry about you.”
“Only for you. I have a reputation to uphold.”
“The tough guy who crumbles for his woman.” She presses a hand to her chest. “I’m swooning hard here.”
“Our secret.” I kiss her hard on the lips.
“Where were you?”
“I went to see Patrick. We’ve decided to move on Murray.”
The smile falls from her face, and I hate it. I hate that even the mention of his name gives her anxiety.
“I see. When?”
“As soon as we can set it up. But I need you to help me with that.”
“Me? How?”
“I want you to text him. Tell him that I snatched you and brought you back to Ireland, but that you’ve managed to escape, and you need him to come get you. I’ll give you an address to give him. When he shows, I’ll be there waiting.”
“What if he doesn’t come?”
I laugh. “He will. He’ll want you back under his control. He’s spent five years lying to you, hiding you from me. It’ll drive him crazy to know I had you back, if only for a moment. He’ll want to get you away from here before I find you again.”
“Okay.” Her voice is subdued, and another torrent of hatred for that man rises within me. I don’t just want answers. I want him gone. For good. Wiped off the face of the earth.
She towels off and dresses in silence, tying her hair back without drying it. Phone in hand, she turns to me. “What should I say?”
I think about it for a minute. It needs to hit the right note of compelling him to act without him asking too many questions. “Start it with ‘I’m in trouble. I need your help.’”
Her fingers fly over the keyboard. She bites her lip, staring at the screen. “He’s seen it.” Then, “He’s replying.” A flash of anger crosses her face. “It says ‘What have you done now?’”
I grind my molars. Of course it’s Rowan’s fault.
It would be the woman’s fault. I am racking up grievances against this bastard, and when I let them loose, he’ll beg me to end it.
To end him. I’m battling with the temptation to take the phone from her and tell that fucker he’s on borrowed time, but Patrick’s right. I need to follow the plan.
“Start with an apology. Men like him love to assign blame and make the woman think she has something to apologize for. Then tell him I snatched you off the street in London and brought you here.”
“How long ago should I say?”
“When were you last in contact with him?”
She scrolls back through the messages. “Tuesday. I texted him to tell him I was sick, but he made me call. When you knocked on my bathroom door, I hung up on him.”
Six days ago.
She hung up on him six days ago, and he hasn’t been in touch since. That sets my teeth on edge. Why would he leave it so long?
I hold out my hand for the phone. “Let me read that conversation.” She passes the burner to me. I scan the exchange, blood boiling. “Tell him I already had you then. That I made you send those messages. That you’ve managed to get free and are hiding out at an abandoned house.”
“Okay.” She taps on the keyboard. Waits. I can see her holding her breath. I brush a thumb over her hip.
“Breathe, Rebel. You’re safe.”
Her shoulders drop, and she breathes out. “He wants to know the address.”
Bingo. I reel off the address of one of our safe houses. It’s scarcely furnished and will easily pass for abandoned.
“Right, it’s done. He said to hang tight. That he’s tied up with a work thing, but that he’ll come and get me tomorrow.” She tosses the phone on the bed like it’s diseased.
I don’t trust that fucker. Wouldn’t put it past him to head straight there now and test her theory. I clasp her hips and pull her to me, dropping a kiss on her forehead.
“I’m going to head over there now in case he’s bluffing.”
Her fingers tangle with my shirt. “Please be careful. I can’t lose you. Not now. Not when I’ve just got you back.”
“You’re not going to lose me.” This time I kiss her on the mouth. “Would it make you feel better if I took security with me?” I won’t need backup, but if it calms her, makes her worry less, I’ll do it.
“Yes, please.”
“Done.”
I message Dan to meet me at the car. As I leave the house, I glance back. Rowan’s standing in the living room window nibbling her thumbnail.
She’s still there when Dan steers the car toward the gatehouse. Small and pale through the glass, one hand pressed against it now. I make myself turn away. I’ve got a job to do. And after that, for the first time in a long time, I’ve got something worth coming home to.