Last Chance (Second Chance Book 3)

by Michelle St. James

  “You think Gunnar Ármannsson is sending Jóhanna Leifsson to make drops to Curran?” Declan asked.

  “We can’t be sure,” Clay said, “but after the initial trip of our spider we put more resources on tracking Leifsson. She’s driven to Hólmavík the last two Monday evenings and stopped at the same grocery each time. After the grocery she drives to a house an hour outside town where she disappears inside for about fifteen minutes before returning to her car and driving the three hours back to Reykjavík."

  “Any sightings of Curran?” Nick asked.

  “Not a one,” Clay said. “We even sent up a drone up to see if we could get anything from the property, which is pretty wooded. Figured maybe Curran was taking walks out of sight. But other than an occasional light inside the house, the place might as well be vacant.”

  Ronan tapped his fingers on the conference table. “What do we know about the house?”

  “Owned by a woman whose family has lived in Hólmavík for several generations. The property has been in her family for ages. Looks like a rental. No connection to Curran that we’ve been able to find,” Clay said.

  “It’s thin,” Ronan said, still tapping.

  Clay nodded. “But it’s the only thing we’ve got that even resembles a lead.”

  Nick looked from Ronan to Declan. “What do you think? Worth investigating further?”

  Declan stood. “You can investigate all you want. I’m going to Iceland.”

  5

  Kate leaned back into the hot water with a sigh and let her body sink into the tub until she was submerged up to her chin. She’d replayed her conversation with Joanne and Priya all the way home from work, trying to ease her worry about the future. Griff had been asleep when she got home, something that had required three chapters of Charlotte’s Web according to Declan, and Kate had climbed with relief into the bath, determined to quiet the endless turning of her mind.

  They would find Neil. They would find Beth. Somehow it would all work out, like it always did.

  She’d repeated it in her mind until she almost believed it.

  The door to the bathroom cracked open and Declan poked his head in. “Can I come in? I come bearing wine.”

  “You should have said that last part first,” Kate said.

  He smiled and entered the bathroom holding two glasses half full of ruby liquid. He cut a path through the steam on his way in, handed Kate one of the glasses, and sat on the chair next to the clawfoot tub.

  He looked as good at the end of the day as he had when she’d left the house for work that morning, his well-worn jeans hugging his muscular thighs just enough to leave a little to the imagination. A shadow had emerged on his cheeks through the course of the day, a rakish version of the clean-cut man who’d pressed against her in the kitchen that morning.

  Heat bloomed between her thighs.

  “Want to join me?” Kate asked.

  His smile was wolfish. “Do you have to ask?” His expression grew serious. “I have something to tell you first though.”

  Dread coiled in her stomach. In all the time she’d been home, all the time she and Declan had spent together since, good news had never followed those words.

  “Something wrong?”

  He shook his head. “The opposite actually. At least, I think so.”

  She used her feet to push further above the waterline, oblivious to the fact that the water and bubbles sluiced off her breasts. She’d been self-conscious about her body when she and Declan had first been intimate, worried that her post-baby body wouldn’t measure up to Declan’s memories of her in college, back when it had been lean and tight, absent the stretch marks that marked her with the silvery stripes of motherhood. But he’d more than proven his desire for her in the months they’d been back together. “Did you find him?”

  “Maybe. Clay thinks so,” he said.

  “Where?”

  “Iceland.”

  She didn’t try to hide her surprise. In the months since Beth and Neil had gone missing, Kate had imagined them in all kinds of places: beaches and mountains and big cities, most of them without extradition treaties. But she’d never once imagined them in a place as remote as Iceland. “Really?”

  He nodded. “But it’s not a sure thing. One of the contacts they’ve been watching has set off some alarm bells. That’s all.”

  She studied him. If what he said was true, it was the first break they’d had in months. So why did it feel like he was hedging? “Why does it seem like you’re downplaying this?”

  “I’m not downplaying it. I just want to be honest, set your expectations,” he said. “I’ll know more once I get there.”

  She stood, water running off her naked body as anger coursed through her veins. “Now I get it.”

  He blinked, staring up at her as she tried to grab a towel from the stack on the shelf. She couldn’t quite reach from inside the tub so he stood, plucking a towel from the stack and opening it for her. “What?”

  She yanked it from his hand and tucked it around her body as she spoke. “You don’t want me to go.”

  He sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want you to go. It just doesn’t make sense for you to go.”

  She stepped out of the tub and glared at him as she passed. “The man who killed my father is in Iceland. My sister might be there. In what universe does it not make sense for me to go?”

  She marched into the bedroom, felt him on her heels.

  “Kate… it’s going to be a long trip. We have to follow the lead, stake out the house where we think Neil is holed up. If there’s enough evidence to indicate that he’s there, we have to go in. Do you know what that means?”

  “I’m not stupid.” She pulled open one of the dresser drawers and slipped on a pair of sensible white underwear, vaguely aware that she was being irrational.

  It was unfamiliar territory, dangerous even.

  “I know you’re not stupid,” Declan said as she stepped into a pair of soft fleece bottoms. “This is the first time we’ve had to do something like this since you came back to Boston. The raid on Neil’s apartment was spearheaded by the FBI. This one won’t be. It will be me, Ronan, and Nick. We won’t know what we’re up against until we get inside. It will be dangerous."

  She pulled on a long sleeve T-shirt and followed it with a soft cashmere cardigan while she worked up a rebuttal.

  She was going to Iceland — Declan just didn’t know it yet.

  “I don’t have to go on the raid with you, assuming there even is one,” she said.

  “Then why come at all?” Declan asked. “Why not stay here with Griff? I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Oh, so now you want me to play housewife? Stay home with Griffin while you go to work?”

  His blue eyes flashed. “That’s not fair.”

  He was right. Declan had never expected her to keep the home fires burning while he worked. But the promise of a lead on Neil — on Beth — had intersected with the frustration that had been building inside her since they disappeared. She was desperate to be there when they caught Neil, to confront her sister, and desperation never made for wise decisions.

  She pulled the cardigan tighter and crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just…” She hated that her voice trembled. “I just need to go.”

  He stepped toward her and pulled her into his arms.

  She sank against him. He held her for a long time, and she savored the safety of his arms, the refuge of his chest under her ear, the smell of his cologne mingled with sweat and salt water.

  He kissed the top of her head. “I’m trying to keep you safe.”

  “I don’t need you to protect me.”

  He pulled back and took her face in his hands. “I know that, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want to, Kate. And it doesn’t mean there’s nothing to fear.”

  “I’m not afraid of Neil Curran,” she said. “And I’m sure as hell not afraid of Beth.”

  What scared her more than either of
them was the damage they could do if Declan didn’t find them, if she never got the closure she needed. Neil and Beth would be inside her head until that happened, eating away at her happiness, a looming storm cloud over every sunny day.

  She would always be waiting for the other shoe to drop, would always doubt her happiness.

  “I know that,” he said, stroking her cheek with his thumb. He pulled her down onto the bed next to him, their thighs touching. “But you should be afraid. And so should I. Neil and Beth are the most dangerous of enemies. Do you know why?”

  “Because they’re family,” she said.

  There’s no enemy more dangerous than the one that once was your friend.

  Her father’s voice came to her on a wisp of memory. Neil and Beth knew her, knew her secrets, knew her weak spots.

  “That’s one reason,” Declan said. “And also, we don’t know what to expect. For all we know, Neil could be sitting on the sofa watching TV and eating takeout when we go in. He could also be holed up with enough men and weaponry to fight a small war. We’ll get as much information as we can before we go in — if we go in — but there’s no guarantee it will be enough, and that doesn’t even include the complication of Beth if she’s hiding out with Neil.”

  He didn’t have to elaborate on that part. Kate was an expert on the complication of Beth.

  She looked down at her hands. “I get all of that. But Declan… I can’t just sit here.” She looked up at him. “I can do a lot of things. I can give you logistical support in Iceland. I can let you call the shots. I can stay away from the raid, if there is one. But don’t ask me to sit here and bake cookies while you go after the man who killed my father.”

  She wouldn’t bake cookies. They both knew that. But he was asking her to stay in Boston, to play the part of damsel in distress while he saved the day. He wasn’t saying it. He might not even have realized it himself — he’d always acknowledged her intelligence and strength— but his instinct to protect her was there because he thought she needed protecting.

  She didn’t. Not if she stayed out of the line of fire.

  “What about Griff?” Declan asked.

  She recognized it for the last gasp it was, an attempt at giving her a reason to stay in Boston while he went to Iceland without her.

  “My mom will take care of him. It will be fine.”

  His jaw hardened. “I don’t like it.”

  She reached for his hand. “I know. And I appreciate that you want to protect me. I really do. But if you really want to do something for me, you’ll ask me to come with you because you know it’s what I need.”

  His eyes flashed. “What about my need to keep you safe? Doesn’t that count for anything?”

  She reached up to touch his face, the scratch of his five o’clock shadow almost carnal against her palm. “It counts for a lot. I’m just asking you to give on this one, Declan. This is who I am. You can’t change me.”

  She needed to be in Iceland when they raided the house where Neil was staying, needed to see for herself that he paid for what he did.

  And she needed to be there if they found Beth.

  But just as important was Declan’s willingness to let her be herself when it counted. To be part of the decisions and actions that would inform the course of their lives together.

  He’d encouraged her in college, had taken pride in her intellect and even her stubbornness, and he’d shown the same support for her since they’d been back together.

  But that stuff was easy. Her job, her ambition, her mind — those things were baked in. She realized she’d been holding her breath, waiting for the moment when Declan would assert more authority over her, for the moment when he would ask her to work fewer hours or stop bringing work home.

  The moment when he would ask her to be less herself.

  His expression softened. “I don’t want to change you, Kate. I love you. I love that you’re the smartest person in any room, that you speak your mind even when it pisses people off. I love that you know who you are and make no apologies for it.” He pulled her into his arms. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

  She felt the flex of his back under his shirt. “I’m worried about you too. Does that mean you won’t go?”

  He looked at her with a smile. “You sure you don’t want to go to law school?” He leaned in to kiss her. His lips were soft on hers but insistent too, demanding everything, just like always. When he pulled away he looked into her eyes. “You’re right. It’s a double standard. It’s stupid and old-fashioned and I guess I’m more of those things than I realized. But it doesn’t have to stay that way.”

  “So you’re okay with me coming?” she asked.

  “I’m still going to worry, and you have to promise to follow my lead, not because I don’t think you’re capable but because this is my work, and you have to trust me to know how to do the job.” He nodded. “But if you want to be there, I want you to come.”

  She kissed him. “Thank you.”

  He stood, his face creased with worry he tried to hide with a smile. “I’ll make tea.”

  She watched him go, her relief giving way to fear. He was right: he knew his work better than she did, and she couldn’t help wondering if the worry on his face was for her or for what they would find in Iceland — and what it would mean for their future.

  6

  Declan stared through the windshield of the rented Land Rover, trying to keep his eyes on the road.

  It wasn’t easy.

  The peaks of the Esja, a volcanic mountain range that loomed outside of Reykjavík, had dominated the view since the moment they’d landed. As they made their way toward Hólmavík, that view had given way to vast stretches of emptiness, rolling hills, and icy blue fjords.

  “It’s so beautiful,” Kate said next to him.

  He looked over at her in the passenger seat and tried to ignore the apprehension that had settled in his stomach since he’d agreed to let her come to Iceland. “It is.”

  She’d taken off her jacket for the three-hour drive, and her gray sweater made her eyes gray-green, as mysterious as the water of the fjords. Her fiery hair was pulled back into a ponytail, the starkness of it highlighting the delicate line of her cheekbones, the lush fullness of her mouth.

  “How much longer?” Nick asked from the back of the Rover.

  “Twenty minutes less than the last time you asked,” Declan said. “Jesus, check your GPS.”

  He looked down at the map app and slowed down to make a right turn off the highway, which had grown less and less crowded with cars the farther they got from Reykjavík.

  They’d passed the turnoff for Hólmavík ten miles earlier, opting to head straight to the house where they’d be staying rather than stop for supplies. The flight had taken nearly six hours. Then they’d stopped for dinner outside of Reykjavic where they parted ways with Ronan before continuing on the three hour drive to Hólmavík.

  They were all ready to stretch out and sleep.

  “Wow, there is nothing out here,” Nick said, his face turned to the window in the backseat.

  Declan couldn’t disagree. It was almost one in the morning, but he would have expected a few lights from distant houses at least. Instead, the darkness seemed to go on and on, mountains and hills nothing more than shadows under the moonlight.

  “That’s a good thing. Less people means less questions,” Declan said.

  He glanced at the GPS and turned off the main road, then cracked his window. He got a whiff of salt air as they bumped along a narrow road, the headlights illuminating the space in front of the car and not much else.

  The GPS said the house should’ve been almost right in front of them, but the surrounding area was as dark and featureless as it had been since they’d turned off the highway. Then he rounded a curve at the base of a hill and two golden orbs came into view, lights shining at the top of the hill.

  “There it is,” he said, leaning forward to get a better look as they started up a steep d
riveway leading to the house.

  “Looks big,” Kate said, following his gaze.

  Details were hard to muster in the dark, but she was right. The house was a hulking mass nestled into the hill, the lights flanking a massive frosted glass door at the top of a stone staircase.

  He pulled in front of the garage and turned off the car. “We’ll pull the car in once we get inside.”

  They opened the doors and piled out of the car. Nick moved to the back of the Rover, popped the hatch, and unloaded their bags before coming to stand next to Declan.

  “Looks nice,” he said, looking up at the house. “Smart to set it in the hill like this. It’s probably impossible to see from the approaching road, even in daylight.”

  Declan didn’t know what he’d expected, but it wasn’t the behemoth looming over them. Hólmavík had been a quaint fishing town, with smaller, older houses that looked like they’d been sitting in the seaside town for hundreds of years.

  Now that they were on top of it, Declan could see that this house was an architectural marvel, a mix of modern and rustic that included an entire wall of glass, a sleek counterpart to the steeply pitched roof and warmth of the cedar that made up the rest of its construction.

  The house was on loan to them from Nolan Burke, although Declan had had the feeling it was the property of the Syndicate rather than Burke. He’d made the call to Burke on a whim, hoping to get the lay of the land on potential problems in Iceland. Neil Curran had never seemed the type to have ties to organized crime, but after everything that had happened, Declan didn’t want to take anything for granted.

  If he’d hired private security, they probably would have been connected to the Syndicate’s operations. Either that or he would have hired someone known to the Syndicate, who had a line on every criminal in every city in the world, from aspiring kingpins looking to skim some of their business to the pickpockets who targeted tourists.