“Now who is that delicious piece of man they just handed the microphone to?” Lily’s hand darted to her face, and she pulled down her lip with her thumb, mentally undressing the man on stage.
Ava didn’t even want to look at her sister’s new target. He was probably some sexy musician—her sister’s other weakness. She stared down at the empty champagne flute, wishing a server would appear and fill it.
She almost knocked it over when she heard the opening strains to “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing” fill the room. Memories of Aiden at the karaoke bar slammed her system, making it hard for her to breathe.
But when she heard the voice, her gaze instantly snapped up. “Oh my God,” she said under her breath.
“Told you. Dreamy, right? I’ll even let you have this one. You need it,” her sister said, slapping her arm.
“That’s Aiden. My Irish guy.” And he was staring at her. Singing to her. Her heartbeat was pumping overtime; she wondered whether she might slip out of her seat.
“You’re kidding, right? You didn’t tell me he’s a singer. What’s he doing here?”
Ava didn’t answer. She couldn’t speak.
“Wow,” she vaguely heard her sister mumble.
Aiden was dressed in a black tuxedo. Sharp. Sexy. Sophisticated. He began to walk down the three steps and move off-stage. Without dropping a note, he weaved through the crowd of dancers and past the scattered tables.
Straight toward her.
Oh God. Her sister gripped her arm as Aiden stopped in front of her. “Don’t want to miss a thing,” he crooned, and the music came to a close. The room thundered with applause, and all she could do was stare up at him, doe-eyed.
He turned off the microphone and handed it to Lily without even looking at her. “Ava.” He held out his hand.
She grasped it tightly, and he pulled her up out of her seat. She almost lost her footing in the ridiculous heels her sister had convinced her to wear. He braced her with his hand on her back and pulled her against his hard body. “I won’t let you fall. I promise,” he whispered into her ear before pulling away, so he could look into her eyes.
“I—I don’t know what to say.”
“I couldn’t wait for you to come to me any longer, so I thought I’d make some grand and kind of cheesy gesture. Was it a mistake?”
“Only that you waited so long. I was ready for you the second after you walked out of my hotel in D.C.”
His smile traveled to his eyes as he pulled her closer to him. His hand slipped through her wavy hair, and he pressed his lips against hers.
Ava could barely hear the murmurs and clapping from the crowd. She wasn’t used to being the center of attention, and now her personal life was on display for all of the glamorous people of L.A. to see.
And she didn’t give a damn.
Lily cleared her throat. “You going to introduce me?”
Ava pulled away from the kiss, which she instantly regretted. All she wanted was to be back in his arms. “This is Aiden O’Connor,” she said, catching her breath.
Aiden kept his gaze on Ava for a few more moments. “Hi,” he finally said, extending his hand and glancing over at her twin.
“So, you’re him, huh?” She raised her brows. “It took you long enough.”
“My apologies.” He looked back at Ava. “Mind if I steal her?”
“Please,” Lily answered.
Ava shot Lily a quick look and smirked when Lily winked at her. Aiden reached for her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. Warmth circulated throughout her body. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” she said as he walked her out of the ballroom and onto the back terrace.
The sky was like a canvas, painted black with a blanket of yellow dots. She kept her gaze focused above, afraid that if she blinked, Aiden would disappear into the black night.
“I was stupidly waiting for you. I wanted to give you time, but—”
“God, we are both idiots. Both waiting for each other to make the first move. You’re Irish—aren’t all Irish supposed to be stubborn?” She looked at him and smiled. “What’s my excuse?”
He released a laugh and pulled her into his arms. “Have you thought about what you want?” He brushed a hand over her cheek and focused his eyes on her mouth.
She wanted him to kiss her again, but she knew they needed to talk first. “I have a few ideas about what I want, job-wise. I’m thinking I’d like to use my skills in a medical research lab. Maybe save lives, instead of almost costing American lives . . .” His arms tightened around her.
“There are a lot of great research facilities in Boston.”
“And one hell of an Irish bar, too. I used to know the owner . . . do you know if he’s still there?”
“The same father-and-son team are running the place. Permanently.”
Her heart must’ve grown wings because it began flittering in her chest. “That’s good to hear.” Before she could say anything else, Aiden’s mouth came crashing down over hers.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Six weeks later.
Boston, Massachusetts.
“Liam, I can make my own drink.” Ava smirked. “Why do you insist on always serving me?”
“A woman like you deserves to be waited on.” He winked at her, and she noticed his liquid blue eyes were full of spirit. Something about him had changed—he’d been different in the last few weeks. Happy.
She patted him on the shoulder and walked around from behind the counter and took a seat on a stool. She looked up as Aiden exited from the back room. “Hi love, sorry I’m late.”
She reached out and touched a new cut just above the scar on his brow. “You let someone get one past you? I thought you only got hit when hot girls—pardon me, when a hot girl—distracts you?” She narrowed her eyes at him as her lips crooked into a smile. “Something you want to tell me?”
“Someone did distract me.” His blue eyes darkened.
She erased the smile from her lips and reached out for his hand. “Aiden, what’s wrong?”
“Can you grab me a whiskey?” he asked his father as he sat next to her.
Liam nodded and turned away to retrieve the top-shelf liquor. Only the best for Aiden.
“What is it?” she asked again.
“Well—” His gaze froze on something—or someone—behind her.
She glanced over her shoulder and almost fell off her stool.
“Well, she showed up while I was mid-fight.” He scratched the back of his head and kept his eyes locked on Sophia at the door.
Ava snapped her head back around and faced Aiden. “Oh my God. Did she talk to you?”
He shook his head no. “She was gone before my fight was over.”
“Looks like she wants to talk now.”
Aiden started to get up, anger pinching the muscles in his face, making his jaw tight.
Then Ava caught sight of Liam, and curiosity overwhelmed her. What must it be like, to see again the woman he had loved for all these years? She waited for some sign of shock to spread across his face, but instead she saw a shy, happy smile.
“Wait.” She extended her arm out in front of Aiden, her way of motioning for him to sit back down. She bit her lip as Liam moved toward Sophia, who stayed at the entrance of the bar, eyeing Aiden warily.
“I can’t believe it,” Aiden muttered.
“What do you think she wants?” Ava’s face twisted with surprise as Liam rested his hand on Sophia’s arm and leaned in to kiss her lips.
“What the hell!” Ava couldn’t stop Aiden this time. He jumped off his barstool, ready to charge Sophia like a bull at some red flag whipping in the wind. “What’re ya doing here?”
Liam pulled away from Sophia and turned to face Aiden as Ava joined his side. “I can explain.”
“Please, explain.” Aiden crossed his arms.
Sophia placed her hand in the air and stepped around Liam. “I wanted to be the one to tell you, but I got nervous at the boxing studio and left.�
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“Tell me what?”
She cleared her throat before speaking. “Your father and I reconnected a few weeks ago.”
That’s why Liam’s been acting so strange—so content. Ava watched as Aiden swallowed, his eyes seeming to bulge from his face.
“You shouldn’t even be here. You should be in hiding,” Aiden finally responded.
“Ted didn’t tell Homeland about me—hell, he hasn’t admitted to anything,” Sophia answered, tilting her head up toward her son.
“Doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t be here. Regardless.”
“What about Henry? Where is he?” Ava asked as she rested her hand on Aiden’s forearm. He focused on her for a brief moment.
“He’s somewhere safe, for now. He said to tell you once more that he’s—”
Ava held up her hand. “No need to say it.” She had moved past Henry’s betrayal. But could Aiden possibly do the same for his mother? She sucked in a breath and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.
“I want to make amends, Aiden,” Sophia announced, turning her focus back on her son.
Aiden glared at Sophia as if he saw double, trying to focus his vision. He shook his head and directed his attention to his father. “How can you forgive her?”
Liam reached out and pressed his hand against Aiden’s chest. “Son, life is too short to hate.” He released a slow breath.
Aiden’s mouth opened, but no sound escaped.
“I think it’s best if I go.” Sophia looked up at Liam. Her voice broke a little as she started to turn. “This was a mistake.”
“No, wait.” Liam reached for her arm and pulled her to his side. “Aiden . . . I’m happy. I’ve never found someone in all my years who makes me so . . . I know what Sophia did was wrong. I know it’s—”
“Unforgivable,” Sophia choked out.
“Damn right.” Aiden’s jaw was clenched tight. Ava touched his shoulder, trying to support him in a moment she knew must be so hard.
Liam lowered his head. “I guess we should go.”
Ava noticed a slight shift in Aiden’s stance. Had some strange guilt snaked its way up his spine?
Liam started to turn toward the exit but halted. He rested a hand on Aiden’s shoulder, leaned forward, and whispered into Aiden’s ear. He pulled back, gave a slight head nod to Aiden, and left with Sophia without saying another word.
Aiden’s shoulders slumped forward as his arms went limp and fell to his sides.
“Aiden? Are you okay?” Ava reached for his hand and clasped it.
“I’m in shock. And I’m—I’m pissed.” He balled his free hand at his side.
“I don’t blame you if you decide you can’t ever forgive her. But if you do forgive her, I’ll also understand.”
A confused look spread across his face.
“She’s your mom, Aiden. There’s still time for her to be your mom if you decide that’s what you want.” She could tell he was tormented by the idea—wanting so desperately to be her son, but feeling like he’d be betraying his anger if he gave in. “You don’t need to decide now.” She released his hand and touched his cheek. He leaned into her touch and shut his eyes, relaxing against her palm.
“What did your dad whisper to you?”
He remained silent for a minute before his eyes flashed open. “That I’m just like him—that it only takes the O’Connors one week to fall in love,” he responded with a hoarse voice, his eyes blazing with emotion.
“One week?” Ava thought back over their time together.
“That if anyone understands being crazy—it’s me.”
And his mouth came down on hers in a sweet and hot Irish kiss.
The Hard Truth, Book 3
About The Hard Truth~
Trading bullets for board meetings, or so he thought.
Connor Matthews, former Marine and gun for hire, is not what you'd call the quintessential businessman. But when his father's unexpected passing leaves the family business to him and his brother, Connor agrees to take over until his brother finishes his last tour of duty. Connor resigns himself to a life of dull meetings and paperwork, but quickly finds himself mired in his father's web of shady business deals. And in the midst of the mess is Olivia Taylor, his gorgeous and headstrong ex-girlfriend.
Since they last parted, Olivia has known nothing but grief, heartache, and loss. Despite it all, she's built a life for herself--a life with no room for the likes of Connor Matthews. She's survived more than most could endure, but Connor has the ability to ruin everything she's worked so hard to achieve. She must put the past behind her in order to survive . . . but can she forgive the man who broke her heart?
1
Connor
Ciudad Juárez, Mexico
The aluminum alloy of the Sig P220 cooled my sweaty palms as I attached the silencer. What had I gotten myself into this time?
I rubbed the butt of the gun against my forehead and leaned up against the splintered stable door. The firearm dropped to my side as hooves stomped behind me. The smell of horse manure slammed hard and fast into my nostrils, settling in my throat.
I needed to get out of there, if not for the damn odor . . .
Shit. Something was moving outside.
I edged closer to the door and peeked through a baseball-sized hole with ragged, singed edges.
The men were tall, tan, and resembling villains from some cliché Western. They stood across the courtyard by the house. Each had a hand resting near a weapon holstered at the hip. They were waiting.
Waiting for what? Me?
They weren’t supposed to be there—not in the back. I’d spent the last two days studying aerial footage of the home, and there had only been guards at the front of the house. Why the hell were they in the back now? And why was the courtyard lit up like some Goddamn Christmas tree? I had planned to use the darkness as my cover, but now I needed a new strategy and fast.
I ignored the buzzing of the smartphone against my leg as the sound of the neighing horse gave me an idea. It probably wasn’t the best of ideas, but it would have to do. Stepping back, I sucked in a breath and swung open the door to the stable.
The horse angled its head, and a pair of black glossy orbs studied me as the beast pounded its right hoof in the dirt. I jumped out of the way just as he leaped forward and pummeled the barn door head first, busting it wide open.
“Maldición,” one of the guards cursed, reaching for his weapon.
The two guards chased after the mustang as it wheeled around the courtyard, raising its front legs up in the air as it cried.
It was now or never.
I darted through the broken door with my gun aimed at the first guard. My bullet stung him in the shoulder, and his pistol clattered to the ground. He dove away from the charging mustang as his tongue spewed forth several more curses.
The other guards’ eyes locked onto me as the sound of death whistled past my ear. The bullet careened off the statue of an angel that stood just outside the barn.
An angel? Really?
The magazine of my weapon sprang, popping forth a new round into the chamber. My finger light on the trigger, I fired off another shot as the second guard began retreating to the house.
My bullet pierced him in the hand, and an explosion of red rained as he stumbled.
My combat boots carried me fast through the rest of the large courtyard, and I barely felt the guns’ recoil as I squeezed off two more perfect shots, which struck each man once in the leg. It would have been easy to kill them, but I prefer to leave God as the judge, jury, and executioner . . . well, at least the executioner.
The people in the house must have heard the shouting of the guards, as well as the damn screams of the horse. With my back pressed to the house beside the back door, I pushed away the noise of the mustang and the groans of the injured guards.
A shuffle of steps . . . only one guard? There had to be more than one. At least two or three insi
de.
The rickety old door creaked open as my ears registered the familiar sound of a safety being removed.
I whipped around in front of the door and blocked the man’s gun with my forearm. My assailant’s gun clanked on the floor as I gripped his arm and twisted it behind his back. His clothes reeked of cigar smoke, the cheap kind—definitely not Cubans. They were probably new to this game.
“Where’s the girl?” I asked as another man appeared at the other end of the hall.
The man charged, and I lifted my arm and shot him in the chest.
Now that he was no longer a threat, I shoved the man before me to his knees and leaned forward, my face inches from his, my weapon pressed against his sweat-slicked temple. “Where’s Lydia?” I gritted my teeth, adding a bit of a snarl. There had to be one more man in the house, and he was probably with the girl.
“Call out to your friend and tell him you took care of me.”
Did he understand me? The same line in Spanish slipped fast from my lips.
He shook his head before reaching into his pocket and revealed a knife. The silver blade flashed toward my face, but I shifted to the side, just avoiding the cut, and smacked the butt of the gun against his skull.
I stepped around his crumpled body and strode down the hall. The vibration in my pocket alerted me to another call. Perhaps I should have powered down my phone . . . but that would introduce its own risks. If someone got the drop on me, at least my government pals would be able to track my phone.
“Hello?” A young girl’s voice. “Help! There’s one more . . .”
At the end of the hall, I peered around the corner to my right. A tall, lithe man stood beside the girl. Her shoulders slumped forward with her head hung down. She was unconscious.
“Drop your gun,” the man warned as he gripped her by the hair and yanked her head back, holding a knife to her throat.
With no time to think I blasted a round from my weapon. Something told me the world wouldn’t miss this asshole.
The Hidden Truths Series Box Set Page 47