Last Chance (Second Chance Book 3)

by Michelle St. James

  Did you know he was going to have our father killed? Important because in every way that mattered, Mac Walsh had been a father not just to Aiden and Kate, but to Beth as well. How could Beth conspire to kill him?

  How could you do this to our family? How could you plot against us? And why? For money? Beth always needed money, but she hadn’t exactly been living large in her apartment downtown. Kate had never seen her in designer anything, had never seen her make a single lavish purchase.

  So if not money, why?

  “I hope you’re right,” Ronan said.

  He was as imposing as ever, remnants of his time as a SEAL evident in his implacable expression, the hard line of his jaw, the blue eyes that never gave anything away.

  “Because of Declan?” Kate asked. “Because of me?”

  “Family makes everything trickier.” He flashed her a grin. “I should know."

  She smiled. Declan had told her some of the details of the job that had brought Ronan and Julia together, but they’d been broad strokes: Julia’s grandfather hiring MIS to find Elise, Julia and Ronan crashing into each other in an alley, both of them staking out the man they thought was responsible for Elise’s disappearance.

  They’d come within seconds of finding Elise in Dubai and had tried to infiltrate Manifest in Italy before finally rescuing her in the waters off Greece. After that, Elise had moved into the Murphy house where she’d settled in as a member of the family.

  “It must have been hard,” Kate said softly. “Trying to save Elise with Julia.”

  Ronan and Julia were both opinionated and stubborn. She could only imagine the sparks that must have flown.

  He looked at her. “Do you know I had to carry Julia, kicking and screaming, out of a club in Dubai while Elise was only a few doors down the hall, waiting to be rescued?”

  Kate shook her head, horrified.

  He nodded. “If I hadn’t done it, Julia would have died, and maybe me too. And who knows what would have happened to Elise then?” He turned his eyes back to the view beyond the house. “I thought she might never forgive me.”

  “But she did.”

  “She did.” Kate could hear the relief in his voice. “But it was touch and go for a while, which was why I didn’t want her to come to Dubai.”

  “Ah.” Now Kate understood. This was an intervention of sorts.

  Ronan turned his blue eyes on her again. “You’re already here. And I get it. I get that you want to be close if they find Beth. But if they don’t…”

  “If they don’t, I have to be a good girl and let the big, bad men handle everything.” It came out more bitter than she’d intended.

  Ronan seemed to consider his words. “Being a good girl has nothing to do with it — being smart does, and you’re one of the smartest women I know. In fact, if the operation to take down Neil Curran and stop whatever’s been put in motion with your father’s company were an intellectual one, you’d be the first person I’d call.”

  “How do you know it’s not?”

  His nod was slow. “Touché. But first we have to get ahold of Neil, find out what we can about his plans. That’s about guns and infiltration strategy. It means trying not to get killed and trying not to get anyone innocent killed. Like Beth. That’s our department.”

  “I know. Which is why I’m here at the house and not staking out Neil’s hideout with Declan and Nick.”

  “That’s good. I just don’t know where this job will take us next. In a perfect world, we get ahold of Neil, he confesses everything, and we get enough information about what he had planned for WMG to stop it before we take him out. But trust me when I say things hardly ever work out the way we intend. I need to know this isn’t going to be a problem if it’s not as clean as we hope.”

  “You mean me. You want to know I’m not going to be a problem,” she said.

  Ronan met her eyes. “Are you? Going to be a problem? Because I love you, Kate, and I love my nephew. I want you to be able to live with the outcome here. But I want my brother to come out of it alive too.”

  Her anger was softened by the fact that the mountain of a man sitting next to her had confessed his love for her and Griff, that he’d spoken of them like family.

  She looked away. “You think I’m putting him in danger.”

  “Not overtly. Not sitting here at the house. But things can go bad fast in a raid. I need to know Dec can focus on coming out of it alive, not whether you’ll be able to forgive him if something happens to Beth.”

  She took a deep breath. Was that what she was doing? Endangering Declan’s life with her worry about Beth?

  The thought caught her in a frigid grip of panic.

  She looked at Ronan and couldn’t be mad. He was just looking out for Declan, which was what she needed to do too. It was what Declan had been doing for her since he’d come back into her life, trying to prove that she could trust him to put her and Griffin first.

  She had to find a way to do the same.

  “I hear you,” she said.

  He nodded. “Good.”

  She was relieved when he didn’t say more. The possibility that Declan would put himself in more danger because of pressure from her made her stomach turn. She’d been selfish, thinking about her family, acting like Declan was invincible when he was about to storm a house in the middle of nowhere with no idea what he was up against.

  But how was she supposed to balance the family she was born to with the family she was building? How was it possible to protect all of them?

  And what would happen if she had to choose?

  10

  Declan leaned back in his chair and took a last drink of his coffee. The candles had burned low on the table, the remains of their feast spread out on plates and bowls.

  “That was amazing.” He reached for Kate’s hand. “Thank you.”

  She smiled. “You’re welcome.”

  “I’m stuffed,” Nick said. “And impressed. How’d you pull that together so fast?”

  Kate shrugged. “Google helped with the recipes.” She looked at Ronan. “Ronan was my bodyguard at the store while you were sleeping and Declan was working.”

  Declan felt an irrational burst of pride. Kate could do anything. Run an empire. Rustle up the ingredients to cook a traditional Icelandic lamb stew, complete with homemade Rye bread. Raise a child alone.

  But looking at her now, her features soft in the candlelight, he didn’t need any of that. He would earn the money if she wanted. He would learn to cook. He would take care of Griffin.

  He just needed her, next to him, for the rest of his life.

  She was enough without any of the accomplishments she took so much pride in. He wondered if she knew that, then vowed to make sure she did every day for the rest of his life.

  “If all I have to do to get a meal like that one is tag along at the grocery, count me in,” Ronan said.

  The stew had featured tender chunks of lamb and roasted vegetables and the rye had been airy and chewy, served with local butter, a perfect accompaniment. They’d finished with a fresh pot of coffee and a traditional Icelandic pastry with a jammy blueberry filling that they all had fun trying to pronounce.

  “You’re on.” Kate grew pensive. “Although this is probably our last real meal here.”

  Silence settled around the table. Tomorrow they would raid the house where Neil Curran was hiding. They would find out for sure if Beth was there. After that, whatever happened, they’d be done in Iceland.

  Declan was surprised to realize he’d enjoyed the week. Iceland felt a world away from Boston and the tangle of worry that had become their lives — ironic given that they were there to find Neil, the source of all their problems.

  Kate was still struggling to trust what they had together in part because of Neil’s affair with Annie, although to be fair, it had probably only exacerbated Kate’s already cynical nature.

  And who could blame her? Some things had to be taken on faith, on heart, and that had been parented ou
t of Kate since birth by her father.

  Fucking Mac Walsh. Declan had loved the man, had admired him. But nothing was ever that simple, and Declan had also come to realize that Mac had done a real number on Kate. His intentions had undoubtedly been good: prepare Kate to take her place at WMG, counter society’s tendency to downplay the intellect of women and the tendency of women to downplay their own intellect.

  Mission-fucking-accomplished, Mac.

  Unfortunately it also meant Kate didn’t trust her heart even when it was the only reliable barometer in sight.

  Declan couldn’t help wondering if Mac would be happy with the results of his tutelage or if he’d be willing to acknowledge its unintended consequences.

  “I can’t think of a better last meal,” Nick said, rising from the table. He took his plate to the kitchen. “Leave these dishes. We’ll do them in the morning since you cooked.”

  “Thanks,” Kate said.

  Ronan stood, following Nick’s lead with his plate and taking some of the empty platters and bowls along with him. “I’m heading up too. We have a long day tomorrow.”

  Declan didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to think about the raid on the house where Neil was hiding, didn’t want to think about whether Beth would be there, about who would make it out alive.

  He just wanted to look at the woman next to him, drink in the play of candlelight on her high cheekbones, her skin nearly translucent, as fine as porcelain. He wanted to watch the light set her hair on fire, to watch her eyes turn from gray to green to amber, a mystery he never wanted to solve.

  It didn’t matter what happened tomorrow. Kate was next to him, the gentle pressure of her denim-clad thigh as thrilling as it had been when they’d first met in college.

  They had tonight. It suddenly felt like a lot.

  “Goodnight,” Kate said as Ronan headed for the stairs.

  “Night. Thanks again for a great meal,” Ronan said.

  “You’re welcome.” Kate waited for him to climb the stairs to turn to Declan. “Want some more coffee?”

  He reached for her hand, captured it in his. “I don’t want more coffee.”

  She met his eyes. “No?”

  He shook his head and stood, pulling her to her feet. He thought she might laugh, make a joke about Declan wanting something other than coffee.

  She looked into his eyes, her expression somber. The moment stretched between them, weighted with everything that hung in the balance.

  “Let’s go to bed, Kate.” His voice was gruff, working its way around the sudden emotion lodged in his throat.

  She nodded and bent to blow out the candles while he turned off the lights in the kitchen and the great room.

  They climbed the stairs hand in hand. Anticipation was already humming in Declan’s veins, something that still surprised him. He’d thought being with the same person forever would be boring. That he’d get tired of sleeping with the same woman.

  But he had never allowed himself to ponder a future in which that woman would be Kate.

  Now he knew he would never be bored of looking at her, of touching her naked body, kissing every inch of her skin. Someday he hoped he would know even her heart like the back of his hand, hoped she would give him the privilege.

  Even then she would be a fascination to him.

  They stepped onto the second-floor landing and turned right to the master bedroom at the front of the house. It sat directly over the great room, a private balcony offering the same view as the one from the living room.

  He’d been grateful when Nick had taken one of the bedrooms at the back of the house, and again when Ronan had happily dropped his stuff into the bedroom next to Nick’s. Declan and Kate had the front of the house to themselves, and he followed Kate into the bedroom and shut the door behind them, then leaned against it, watching as she made her way into the room.

  She turned around when she reached the bed. “What?”

  “I just like looking at you,” he said.

  She smiled. “You’re silly.”

  He shook his head. “You just don’t know how beautiful you are.”

  She looked down at herself, at her jeans and the black sweater that highlighted the voluptuousness of her breasts. “Now?”

  “Always.” He pushed off the door and walked slowly toward her, stopping when they were only an inch apart. He reached up, dragged his knuckles down the hollow of her cheekbones. “You still don’t know? How lovely you are? How strong? You’re everything.”

  She slid her arms around his waist and leaned her head against his chest. “I don’t deserve you.”

  He stroked her hair. “False. You deserve everything.”

  For a long moment, she didn’t say anything. When she spoke again, her voice was thick with tears. “We only deserve what we can give, Declan. And there’s so much I still struggle to give.”

  He touched her chin, forcing her to look at him. “No. Our love isn’t a transaction, Kate. You don’t have to do anything to deserve it. I love you like I breathe — because I can’t help myself. I don’t need anything but you. Just like this, just like you are right now.”

  He bent his head to kiss her, sank into the softness of her lips. He slipped his tongue into the sweet chalice of her mouth and the kiss morphed from something gentle, almost chaste, into a volcano of desire.

  She slid her hands around his neck and flattened herself against him until he could feel every soft swell of her body.

  His cock thickened in his jeans, and he pressed it against her stomach as he dove deeper into her mouth, trying to excavate everything that still stood between them, tunneling for the place where nothing mattered but his love for her.

  He traced her body with his hands, cupping her breasts, sliding his palms over her stomach, the flare of her hips as he angled his head, desperate to take the kiss deeper, to occupy every shadowed recess of her mouth.

  Her palms slid down his chest, over his pecs, and caught at the hem of his T-shirt. She lifted it, breaking their kiss just long enough to pull it over his head.

  Her breathing was ragged, her face flushed with heat he could see even in the dim light of the room, barely lit by the moonless night beyond the glass doors leading to the bedroom’s balcony.

  He pulled her sweater over her head and dove back into her mouth, eager to feel the slide of her bare skin. Her kiss was a match, lighting every fuse in his body, setting him on fire from the inside out.

  She reached for the button on his jeans, and he slid the straps of her bra off her shoulders, their mouths and hands frenzied as they worked to undress each other.

  He unfastened her pink lace bra and tossed it aside, sighing as her breasts flattened against his bare chest, the heat of her skin erotic in the chill of the room.

  She unzipped his jeans and slid her hands inside, taking his cock in her hands. He groaned, the contact so pleasurable it bordered on pain.

  He kissed his way down her neck as she stroked him, slow and steady, the rhythm awakening the beast of his orgasm. He touched his lips to her pale throat, licking at the soft beat of her pulse, dropping kisses along her collarbone.

  He cupped her breasts in his hands, savoring their lush weight.

  She moaned when he pinched her nipples between his fingers and he lowered his head, drawing one of them into his mouth.

  “Declan…” She breathed his name into the room, her head falling back to expose the pale column of her throat.

  She stroked him faster, working in time to the rhythm of his suckling. He realized almost too late that he was perilously close to release, lost in the bliss of her hands on his shaft, her body responding under his hands and mouth.

  He straightened and looked into her eyes, cloudy with desire. “I need to taste your sweet pussy, Kate.”

  He removed her hands from his jeans and knelt at her feet. She closed her eyes as he unfastened the slim-fitting black trousers that hugged her curves, and he slid them over her hips, pulling the scrap of pink lace that pa
ssed for underwear along with them.

  She stepped out of the clothes obediently, like a child, and another rocket of need shot through his system. Kate obedient turned him on every bit as much as Kate in charge.

  He looked up at her, standing over him like a goddess. Her body was sheer perfection: strong calves and thighs, the garden of her sex beckoning between her legs, the cushion of her stomach and taper of her waist, her breasts heavy, nipples the pale pink of a delicate rose.

  And her face, always her exquisite face.

  “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Now lay down so I can make you come with my mouth.”

  She looked down at him, her eyes locked on his for a long moment before laying back on the bed. She was showing him that she was still in charge. That she would let him have his way with her, but only because she wanted it as bad as he did.

  She leaned back, propping herself up on one arm, and bent her knees at the edge of the bed. She opened her thighs, her fingers snaking between her legs, brushing lightly over her pussy. “You want to make me come with your mouth?”

  He watched with rapt attention as she stroked the petals of her sex, glistening with desire, revealing every inch of her paradise as she rubbed two fingers over her clit.

  “Yes.” He could barely croak out the word around his need for her.

  She spread herself open, giving him a glimpse of her cave, a sweet abyss he would happily drown inside.

  “Then come and get it, Dec.”

  He groaned and pushed her thighs apart, burying his face in her pussy like a man dying of thirst, drinking from a crystal pool of water in the middle of the desert.

  She gasped, dropping back onto the mattress as he ran his finger through her swollen folds, pressing his face into her, lapping hungrily at her juices, his cock straining painfully for the relief of her body.

  He slid two fingers inside her. She sighed, sinking another inch toward the edge of the bed, taking his fingers deeper as he closed his mouth around her clit.