by Jacob Chance
The drive back to FBI headquarters in Chelsea goes smoothly. I’m glad to be driving myself, instead of relying on others and taking the T.
When I’m on my way into the building, I meet Sam on the walkway.
“Hey, Georgia.”
“Hi, Sam.” I can’t keep from echoing his smile. “You’re way too happy about me using your name.”
His broad shoulders rise and fall. “It’s the little things.”
“I guess you’re easy to please.”
“When are we going out for dinner again?” he asks.
“We just did last night. What’s the rush?”
“It was fun. We should do it again.”
He was pleasant company, but I have a feeling that Sam is interested in more than just a dinner companion.
“Let’s see what the next week brings.” I keep my reply vague. I don’t want to string him along, but I’m not ready to have a serious discussion with him about it at this point. And what if I’m wrong, and he’s only looking for a friend to spend time with?
“You can’t make it easy for me, can you?” he teases.
“You act like I’m doing it on purpose.”
“Aren’t you?” His mouth arcs into an attractive smirk.
“Oh, Sam.” I roll my lips inward and shake my head slowly. Before I can say anything else, he glances at his watch and takes two steps backward toward the parking lot.
“I gotta run. Nash and I are meeting up to investigate an explosion,” he explains. “Have a good weekend.”
Raising my hand in a quick wave, I don’t look back. It’s time to immerse myself in work.
Four hours later, my stomach rumbles loudly, informing me of the late hour. I raise my head to find that it’s well past six o’clock and most of my coworkers are already gone for the weekend. Shutting my computer down, I place everything I’m working on in a folder and lock it inside one of my desk drawers. The phone rings, and I waver over whether I should answer it or not. But there’s no way in good conscience that I can ignore it.
“Agent Cohn,” I answer.
“This is Agent Stevens, I’m trying to get in touch with Agent Garrison.”
“He’s out of the office now. Can I help you with anything?”
“I’ve got the DNA results report from the explosion and I wanted to go over them with him.”
Curiosity tickles my brain. With all the inconsistencies that have been happening around me, I can’t afford to miss any opportunity to learn more.
“If you want to forward the email to me, I’ll make sure he gets them.” I cross my fingers and clench my teeth, waiting for his reply.
He sighs. “Okay. What’s your email?”
Rattling off my email, I punch my fist in the air. It’s about time something went my way.
“I’ll make sure to pass this on to Nash.”
“Thank you.”
My phone almost immediately chimes with the notification, and I do an excited dance as I pull the email up. Eyes scanning the report, I pause, my breath seizing inside my lungs, as if I’ve had the wind knocked out of me. My heart pounds harder than it ever has—so much so that it hurts and I wonder if it will suddenly stop. My legs tremble to the point where I sink onto my chair and my gaze travels over the words once again just to convince myself that I’m not going crazy.
Brennan Collins.
Oh my God. How was Belfast’s DNA found at the explosion site? He’s been dead for six days now. Jumping to my feet, I turn one way and then another, uncertain what to do with myself. I’m completely spun out. My breathing sounds like I’ve just finished running a footrace. Placing a hand on my chest, I coach myself through some exercises to breathe slower. Once I’m feeling more like myself and steady on my feet, I snatch up my keys and purse and run to the elevator.
Everything from the ride down until I get inside my car is a blur. When my key goes into the ignition, it’s like a mental slap to get my shit together and focus on driving home. Once I get there, I can melt down and process what this all could mean.
Chapter Eight
Georgia
Entering my condo, I slip off my shoes and hang my blazer on an empty wall hook. Setting my purse and keys down on the small table, I roll my neck from side to side, stretching out the tension with a relieved sigh. Bracing both hands on the table, I pause and let my mind embrace the possibility that Belfast is still alive.
Could he be? I want so badly to believe it’s true, but I don’t see how it’s possible.
“Hello, luv.”
I jump and whirl toward the voice I thought I’d never hear again, finding Belfast sitting on my couch. My mouth repeatedly opens and closes as I search for something to say. But my words have fled and my mind is blank. I can’t even move. My feet seem glued to the floor.
Am I hallucinating?
Am I imagining he’s here because I’ve missed him so much?
Is this my way of coping with the overwhelming stress?
Am I finally losing the last of my sanity?
“I wanted to wait until you noticed me, but I couldn’t wait any longer.” He rises, his smooth and cat-like gait now noticeably lame as he limps toward me. I gasp out a croaking sound, my breath hitching in my lungs. My chest grows tighter and my heart rate increases with each step closer that he takes. By the time we’re toe-to-toe, it races like a jet engine preparing for takeoff.
He cups my cheeks gently in his large palms. “Georgia,” his voice is a gravelly husk, and his chocolate orbs reverently stare down at me.
How can this be real?
“Brennan,” I whisper, clasping onto his solid wrists. “Are you really here?” Tears sting my eyes.
“Aye.” His grin flashes stark white in his battered and bruised face. “It’s me, in the flesh.”
My hands slide up his arms, caressing his warm skin while my eyes skate over his face. Dark shadows ring his bottom lids, and a motley of bruises and cuts reside on one side of his face. His cheekbone is swollen and a small jagged cut has been stitched closed. Purple and blue colors his jaw, and his one uninjured cheekbone looks sharp enough to slice cheese. My brows furrow together. He’s lost a noticeable amount of weight. Fingers gripping his shoulders, I ask, “Are you okay?”
“I am now that I’m here with you, Georgie.” Leaning forward, he brushes a delicate kiss on my lips. As he begins to pull away, I press on the back of his neck, urging him to stay. His lips part, fusing with mine, and our tongues reunite, sending a shockwave of desire through me from head to toe.
Hands sliding down my back, he cups my ass, drawing me against his chest. A deep groan passes from his mouth to mine. Our connection is more powerful than I remembered.
I want to inhale his essence, breathe every part of him in and never exhale again. It seems like forever since we kissed, and I’m fully alive for the first time since I last saw him.
He picks me up and my legs close around his lean hips. He carries me to my bedroom, our mouths still greedily reacquainting as we drink each other in. We’ve been kept apart, and now nothing is going to stop us from being together.
We tumble onto the bed, my heels on Belfast’s ass urge him closer. Tongues and hips grinding, we can’t get close enough.
“Clothes… off.” I gasp. Tugging on the hem of his t-shirt, I drag the black material over his head. His ribs have fresh bruises, and a large white bandage is taped to his stomach. “Wait. You’re hurt.”
“Your turn,” he growls, ignoring my concern. Tearing the two sides of my shirt apart, buttons fly from the garment. Belfast pulls my bra down, baring my tits for his attention. His full lips close around one, tongue laving the pink tip while the fingers on his other hand tease and pluck my other nipple until my hips buck upward with need. I’m desperate for more.
Capable fingers undo my button and zipper before peeling both my pants and thong down my legs.
My hands reach for his jeans, undoing them. Slipping my palms inside the denim, they glide along his skin. I los
e focus for a second when I discover he’s commando. I shove the denim down his hips and the tip of his cock seeks and finds my needy entrance. He thrusts inside me, hot and hard, burning me up from the inside out.
Lost in the blissful sensations of our bodies reuniting, a chorus of moans mingle in the air between us. Every stroke of his cock and tender sweep of his lips on my skin stitches my broken heart back together piece by jagged piece. Every rock of his hips and loving word whispered in my ear, fills me with so much emotion that I don’t know how to contain it all.
Happy tears flow down my cheeks as his adoration filled eyes gaze into mine, and I can’t look away for fear that this is only a dream. That he’s not really here. It’s too good to be true. And I’ve never been someone who believed in miracles—until now.
I still don’t know how he’s with me, or how he managed to escape death, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters because he’s here, showing me how much he missed me.
His hands clutch my hips, fingertips sinking into my skin as he pulls me down to meet every powerful thrust of his steel-like length.
My fingers clutch the sheets, twisting them in my grasp as he drives me higher and higher toward release. The pleasure builds, coiling tighter between my legs until it bursts free like an explosion. My back arches and I cry out, “Brennan,” hoarsely.
He pumps into me a few more times before his orgasm slams through him. He comes with a harsh groan, his grip on my hips tightening to the point of pain. I like the reminder that this is real. He’s here and we’re joined together, as we should be.
Falling forward onto his forearms, he rolls to the side, taking me with him. Cocooned in his strong embrace, we lie facing each other. His fingertips reverently trace out the shape of my face, and his eyes follow their movement until they meet mine. “You’re so beautiful. I missed you so much, Georgia.”
Catching hold of his hand, I press a kiss to his palm before clasping it between mine over my heart. “Brennan, I can’t believe you’re here. They said you were dead.”
“Well, luv, as you can see, they were wrong.”
“But how are you here?” I ask.
“It’s a long story, and I promise to tell you, but right now all I want to do is get the rest of my clothes off and hold my girl.”
Glancing down, I notice his pants are still suspended at mid-thigh, and I’m still wearing my now torn shirt and bra. I giggle.
He turns over to his back, shucking his jeans free from his legs and onto the floor.
Sitting upright, I remove my garments and catch sight of another bandage on his thigh. “Brennan, are you okay?”
His arms wrap around my waist from behind and he draws me down to the mattress in front of him. Cuddled up to me, one of his legs resting over mine, he presses a soft kiss to the side of my neck. “I’m fine. In fact, I’ve never been better.”
“Now I know you’re lying. You have to be in horrible pain.”
“I popped a few pills before I came here. The pain’s not too bad.” His arms tighten around me, and I’m so thankful he’s alive and here.
“Can we stay like this forever?” I ask.
“I love having you in my arms, but I also like having my cock inside you.”
“And there he is. My dirty Irishman. Guess you really are okay.”
“You know you missed me.”
Peering over my shoulder, I say, “I did. More than you’ll ever know.” And then I roll the rest of the way until we’re face-to-face once more. “I was devastated when I heard you were dead.” My voice cracks and my chest aches at the memory.
“Who told you?”
“Nash.”
“And who did he hear it from?” he questions.
“He never said. But he told me he saw video proof that you were gone.”
“Let’s table this discussion for now. I have a lot to tell you, but all I can think about at the moment is shutting the rest of the world out and focusing on us. There’s only you and me in this space, and nothing else can intrude on our reunion.” He leans forward, capturing my mouth. His tongue sweeps across the inside edge of my bottom lip before gently tugging on the fullness with his teeth. My tongue meets his and the kiss escalates.
Belfast rolls me to my back, settling between my legs once more. His weight presses me into the mattress, and I forget about anything but the taste of his mouth, the coarse thickness of his hair threading through my fingers, and his ready cock sliding inside me for round two.
“I’ve never been this famished in my life,” Belfast explains. He’s practically inhaled a large pizza by himself and started on another. He told me how they barely fed him, and it’s obvious in the sharp angled planes of his face.
After we made love for the second time, he explained all the details of where he’s been for the past week. I don’t know who Mr. Green is, but I’d be willing to bet a toe or two that’s not his real name. And if he wasn’t already dead, I’d kill him myself.
I explain to Belfast how I just learned that his DNA was found at the crime scene today. And that I’m waiting for Nash to open the email I forwarded to him. Checking my phone again, it’s still marked as unread.
My gaze traces over his injured face and I grimace. “Maybe we should think about getting you checked out by a doctor,” I suggest. “You took quite a beating. How do you know you don’t have any internal injuries?”
“Trust me, luv, if I did, I’d be dead by now. Besides, I stopped and saw a doctor friend of mine before I came here. He stitched me up, gave me some pain meds, and sent me on my way.”
I grimace at his statement. “Have you seen Mikey?”
“Not yet. I should’ve gone to him after the doc patched me up, but I couldn’t be away from you a second longer. I knew you must’ve been told I was dead. I didn’t want you hurting for a moment longer than necessary.”
“I’m glad you came here first. I know it’s selfish of me, to feel that way, but I don’t care.”
“It’s not selfish at all, Georgie.”
I smile at his nickname for me. “I like when you call me that.”
His mouth stretches into a wide grin. “I knew you liked it.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m only admitting it because you came back from the dead.”
“Just call me Jesus.”
Balling up my napkin, I throw it at his chest. “Don’t say that.”
“What? You don’t think God has a sense of humor?”
“He did make you,” I jest.
“After growing up Irish-catholic, the good Lord and I are like this.” He crosses his fingers. “We’re bff’s.”
I roll my eyes. “You should watch what you say; you’re lucky to be alive.”
“I’m being serious. My dad always told me to remember that God is my best friend. And I always take comfort in the fact that he’ll be there, no matter what I do.”
“Well, your poor guardian angel has been working overtime lately. Maybe you should give them a break for a while.”
“I’m not sure I can do that, luv. I need to find out who’s behind everything that’s happened. I can’t do that while hiding out at home.”
“We need to find out who’s responsible. If we’re going to be together, then we’re a team. And you’re hurt. You need time to heal”
He scowls. “What do ya mean if we’re going to be together? Of course we are.”
“I want that too, but that means you can’t run off handling things on your own. That means we share all pertinent information with each other and we’re partners.” My tone is stern.
“I like it when you scold me, luv.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “It’s kind of hot when you use your work voice.”
“Be serious. We’re talking about who tried to kill you.”
“I am being serious. You sound sexy.” He leans over and presses a kiss on my neck, eliciting an obvious shiver. “I love how you react to my touch. It’s such a turn on.”
“Okay, let’s table everything that doesn’t
have to do with this case for now.” I try to steer the conversation in a serious direction.
“Georgie, I know how much you want to find the feckers behind everything, and so do I, but for tonight we can let it lie. We don’t need answers this minute, and we’re not equipped to do anything even if we got them.”
He’s right. I’m all wound up, eager to get on this. He just escaped and we’re both safe.
“I’m sorry. You’re right. We can leave it alone for tonight.”
“Thanks, luv. I’ll call Mikey tomorrow and see if he’s found out anything.”
My eyes open wide. “Shouldn’t you call or text him now to let him know you’re alive?”
“Nah. Why ruin his night?” He winks.
“I’m sure it would be a relief for him to know you’re alive.”
“Don’t worry so much, Georgie. There’s no way that big lug believes I’m dead in the first place. I’ve escaped death enough times for him to realize if he didn’t witness me dying right in front of him, chances are I’ll be reappearing as soon as possible.”
“Do you make a habit of having near-death experiences?”
“You’ve spent enough time with me to know the answer to that question.” He smirks. “I’ve got more lives than a cat.”
I tip my head toward him, arching an eyebrow. “Not anymore you don’t.”
Chapter Nine
Belfast
After our late pizza dinner, we settle onto Georgia’s large couch. She tried to sit on the other end from me, but I was having none of that. I’m not letting her place a figurative or literal distance between us. If there's one thing the past week has shown me, it’s that my feelings for her are real.