by Aleah Barley
It was shocking, really, his physical reaction to her. For the first time in his life, Finn felt himself hunching forward to try and hide a morning erection.
But it wasn’t just physical.
Gina was sharp and strong. Though she was capable of taking care of herself, that didn’t stop him from wanting to wrap his arms around her. Every protective instinct he had was screaming at him to keep her safe, not because it was his job, not because he’d been asked by the captain, but because she was the only woman he’d ever wanted.
The only woman he’d ever loved.
Finn’s shook his head in denial. No, it wasn’t love—it couldn’t be love. But it didn’t matter. He still cared about Gina.
He would keep her safe, and heaven help any man who got in his way.
“You’re kidding, right?” His siblings’ voices bounced around the stairwell, warning him of their impending arrival. Sorcha’s voice was tired. Her syllables were clipped. She sounded completely put-upon, but that was a natural state of affairs for a nineteen-year-old who still lived at home with her mother.
“Gabriel!” Teenage feet thudded against worn wooden floors as Sorcha threw herself into his arms. She gave him a bright hug then turned to Gina.
Sorcha’s blue eyes went wide. Her body stilled. Her jet-black hair was pulled back into a tidy ponytail, and she was wearing a pair of purple flannel pajama pants and a matching tank top. She fidgeted nervously with her pajama pockets.
“You’re Gabriel’s girlfriend?”
“Gabriel.” Gina blinked up at Finn. She could just make out the dimples on his chin. “Your name’s Gabriel?”
He looked like he’d bitten into something sour. “Yes.”
“It’s a good name.” Her surprise was palpable. “Why don’t you use it?”
“It’s not who I am anymore.”
Sorcha rolled her eyes. “Dumb-ass. It’s a perfectly fine name.” She nudged Gina in the side. “Is he as much of a stick in the mud with you as he is with me?” Her lips pulled up into a warm smile. “At least he stopped wearing those silly black robes.”
Gina grinned. “Are there pictures?”
“Lots.” Sorcha bounced up onto her tiptoes. “Let’s go down to the basement. The spare bathroom is next to the laundry room. You can grab a shower and then check out some of the clothes I’ve brought you. After that, you can tell me all about how my brother swept you off your feet.”
For a moment, it looked like Gina was going to say no, but she finally nodded and followed Sorcha out of the room.
“She’s not your girlfriend,” Colin said. “Is she?”
“It’s complicated.” Finn didn’t know if he wanted to explain things to his brother. Gina was private. She was his. Still… “How’d you know?”
His brother shrugged. “You look at her. She looks at you,” he explained. “But neither one of you looks at the other. You’re not the only one who’s an investigator, big bro.”
“I know.”
When they were growing up, all the women in their neighborhood had been nurses, schoolteachers, or mothers. All the men had been cops, priests, or criminals. When Finn had gone into the priesthood, it had only made sense that Colin would become a cop. The younger Finn son was smart, hardworking, and ambitious. He’d quickly risen through the ranks in the Illinois State Police.
Colin disappeared for a moment, reappearing with a cup of coffee for each of them.
The rich scent colored the air, motivating Finn to cross the old wooden floor and lean against the wall beside his brother. His hands wrapped tight around the offered mug, and he drank in the thick black liquid with its vague hint of chicory. “Did you save a cup for Gina? She’ll murder us all if she doesn’t get any.”
“So, you picked up a homicidal maniac in Las Vegas and just thought you’d bring her to your mother’s house?”
“Nope, just a coffee addict.”
“Good to know.” There was a long pause. Colin sipped his own coffee thoughtfully. “So, she’s not a murderer, and she’s not your girlfriend. Although, as far as women go, you could do a lot worse. She’s gorgeous, she’s got a sense of humor, and she seems to like you.” He held up a hand to ward off any objections. “What is she?”
“Mine.”
“And what else?”
“She’s a witness,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “There was a shooting in Las Vegas a couple of nights ago. She saw it all go down.”
“So why haven’t you turned her over to the cops?”
A small growl escaped Finn’s throat. He wasn’t turning Gina over to anyone. Not if he could help it.
One of Colin’s eyebrows arched. “Right, she’s yours. You really like her?”
Finn didn’t bother answering. He couldn’t find the words, not while he was still coming to grips with the depth of his feelings about Gina. Let Colin draw whatever conclusions he wanted. It didn’t matter what his brother thought. “Someone wants her dead.”
“Well…” Colin’s teeth gleamed in the morning light. For a moment, his family man mask dropped away, and he looked positively predatory. Maybe Finn and his brother had more in common than he’d thought. “Any woman who can put up with your grumpy ass must be something special. We won’t let anything happen to her. Will we?”
“No,” Finn agreed. “We won’t.”
The two brothers stood side by side in the living room, not bothering to talk. Eventually Finn would need to give Colin all the details, but for the moment, everything was calm. No one was going to infiltrate the Finn family bungalow, and if they did… Finn’s gun was tucked underneath the couch, where he’d stuffed it the night before, and he assumed Colin’s was on him.
They were finishing up their coffee when Sorcha and Gina walked back in, laughing at some joke. The youngest Finn sibling had pulled a dark cardigan on over her pajamas. Her young body was slim and healthy.
Gina was something else entirely.
Finn blinked in surprise, his gaze raking across her warm curves. For the first time since they’d met, Gina was absolutely clean. Every inch of skin he could see was scrubbed and pale. There was no dust from the road, no makeup left over from her time in the strip club, and no dried blood clinging to the scrape still visible on her shoulder.
A pair of his sister’s dark jeans clung to her long legs, stretching across lean muscles and full hips. The fabric had worn thin in places and Finn could just make out a few inches of toned flesh. Her feet were bare, her arches delicate. Had her toenails always been painted that soft pink color?
A button-down shirt pulled tight across her breasts and skimmed her slim waist. The shirt was old—it was probably left over from Sorcha’s internment at Saint Michael’s—but the white cotton was stark and stain free.
All in all, Gina should have come across as a modest young woman. Even her hair—those wild ginger curls Finn so enjoyed burying his fingers in—was bound back in a tidy braid that hung halfway down her back.
It didn’t matter.
Nothing could hide the smattering of freckles that danced across her nose and cheeks or the spirited smile on her perfect lips. Finn felt a rush of heat, remembering where her mouth had been less than a day ago. She was gorgeous and impulsive and wild, and those were some of the things he liked best about her.
“Enjoy your shower?” Finn asked.
“Pure bliss.” Gina’s hands crossed in front of her chest. “Is there enough coffee for me?”
“You’re right.” Colin chuckled. “She is an addict.”
The entire group trooped through into the bungalow’s kitchen with its cracked tile floors and stained linoleum countertop. The place was well used. It was also clean and stocked with plenty of food.
Colin poured everyone some coffee from the antique percolator. “You going to be in town for long?”
“I’m not sure.” Gina’s gaze darted in Finn’s direction. Her fingers were wrapped around her coffee mug, and her lips were twitched upward in a soft smile. “That�
��s up to your brother.”
“You’ll stay for a few days at least,” Sorcha said enthusiastically. The teenager drank her coffee with a healthy dose of milk and enough sugar to rot her teeth. “You’re going to have to teach me to dance.”
“Right.”
“No way.” Finn bit his lip to keep from swearing. “You’re not teaching my sister how to dance.” He’d seen Gina dance. It had been…invigorating. It would be a cold day in hell before he let Sorcha learn how to dance like that.
He took a long step forward, wedging his body between the two women.
Sorcha elbowed him in the side. “Just because you’re old doesn’t mean you have to act like someone’s grandpa.”
“Exactly.” Gina wasn’t smiling anymore. Her shoulders hunched forward. “Besides, I was just going to teach her the electric slide.”
Hell. He’d just put his foot squarely in his mouth. It tasted like dirt and foolishness. He had the sudden urge to beg her forgiveness.
He sipped his coffee. “I didn’t mean—”
“Yeah, you did.” Gina’s gaze dropped down toward the floor, hiding her rich hazel eyes. “It’s okay.”
But it wasn’t. Finn’s throat felt dry.
Gina might not be his girlfriend, but that was what she wanted. Hell, in a perfect world, he might even have asked her to marry him some day, although a man with his dating record knew it was too soon to contemplate forever.
Time to make amends.
He turned slightly to adjust his posture, attempting to make himself seem smaller without retreating entirely. His hand drifted over to rest on her hips, fingers hooking into her worn back pocket.
“You’ve never seen me dance, have you?”
Gina snorted. “You dance?”
“I can do a mean fox-trot.”
“He means he’ll trip over his own feet,” someone new said.
Finn’s entire body jerked upward. His hands clutched into fists. “Hello, Ma,” he growled. He turned to look at the small woman. Her gray hair was up in curlers, and she had the belt of her blue housedress tied tight around her waist.
When had she gotten so old?
Chapter Fifteen
Gina would have recognized Finn’s mother without any introduction. The woman might be more than a foot shorter than her son, with gray hair instead of black, but there was no mistaking the stormy blue color of her eyes or the stubborn set to her jaw.
“Mrs. Finn.” She held out a hand. “I’m Gina Malloy. It’s nice to meet you.”
The older woman snorted. “It’s a little late for that, sweetheart. You’re standing in my kitchen, drinking my coffee, and wearing clothes I bought for my daughter.” Her lips pressed together in a thin line. For a moment, Gina thought she was going to be tossed out of the cozy bungalow on her ass. Then suddenly, rich laughter filled the small kitchen. “You’d better call me Kaitlyn. Do you like scrambled eggs?”
On cue, Gina’s stomach began to rumble. “That sounds delicious.”
“Good.” Kaitlyn elbowed her way through the crowd until she was standing at the harvest-gold stove. “Sorcha,” she called, barking orders like a general, the tiny tyrant of her own domain. “Go fetch some herbs from the garden—whatever’s fresh. Gina, grab the eggs and cheese from the fridge. You can grate some cheddar while I get started.” She rummaged around in a cabinet, producing a cast-iron frying pan and putting it down on the stove top with a bang. “Colin—” She turned to glare at her younger son. “If you’re going to eat breakfast here, you’d better call your wife. Cheryl’s probably wondering where you are.”
Everyone exploded into action, following her commands to the letter.
The only one without a task was Finn, who waited for Gina to collect the eggs and cheese from the fridge before taking the cheddar from her. “I’ve got this.” He pulled a plate and a grater from one of the cabinets and began to shave the hunk of yellow cheese into tiny pieces.
“So, what are you doing in Chicago?” Kaitlyn poked Gina in the side with a gnarly finger. “You here to see the sights?”
“Not quite.”
“Doesn’t matter. You should see them anyway. Tell whoever brought you to take you over to the lake and show you the art museum.”
She meant Finn. Gina blinked in surprise, realizing that Kaitlyn hadn’t said a single word to her oldest son since she’d walked into the kitchen. In fact, she’d even purposefully avoided talking to him when she’d issued orders a minute earlier. “I’m not really the museum type.”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s a nice place to go.” Kaitlyn finished cracking the eggs into a bowl and whipped them into froth. “I used to take my kids there when they were little. They loved running around the place.” The eggs went in the frying pan, and she held out a hand. “You got the cheese?”
Finn handed the plate to Gina, and she passed it over.
Weird.
He’d mentioned having problems with his mother before—laughing it off as some kind of joke—but she never could have imagined something like this.
Gina shifted forward onto her tiptoes as the plate of cheese left her hand. “You’ve got a wonderful home, Mrs.—Kaitlyn.”
“One of the neighbors just offered to buy it from me. Can you imagine? They want to tear it down and build a nice big garage. I told them that I’d lived here all my life. This is where I raised my children. They’ll carry me out of this house.” She sniffed. “Of course, if the taxes go up much more, it might be the police carrying me out with an eviction notice instead of the undertakers.”
“You having money trouble, Ma?” Finn interrupted. “I can send you something. I swear—”
“Of course”—Kaitlyn raised her voice—“even if someone offered to pay the taxes for me, I’d have to turn them down. This is my house. I worked for it with my sweat and my blood. I won’t go depending on someone else to help me now, especially when they could be putting that money toward something better.” She eyed Gina thoughtfully. “Do you own your house?”
“The bank owns most of it, but the rest is mine.”
Kaitlyn let out a warm laugh. “Isn’t that always the way?”
The bungalow’s back door opened, and Sorcha came back inside with a handful of fresh herbs. She washed and chopped them without being told, throwing the pieces into the pan while her mother stirred the eggs.
“So, Gabriel…” The teenager stretched out her older brother’s name until it was multiple syllables long. “You came all the way to Chicago, and it’s not even Christmas. Is someone chasing you? Or did you just miss the old neighborhood?”
“Don’t ask questions, brat.” Finn’s jaw clenched. He moved closer to Gina, putting himself between her and his sister, protecting her from the family’s nosiness. His arm slid around her waist, fitting their bodies together. “It’s none of your business.”
“Someone’s chasing us,” Gina said at the same time. Knowing of Finn’s highly developed moral compass, she didn’t want him lying to his family. Not for her.
Kaitlyn Finn might not be speaking to her son, but she still loved him. That was clear in the way she watched him from the corner of her eye and the number of plates she placed on the big kitchen table. “Someone bad?”
“Bad enough.” Gina shifted uncomfortably.
“What’d you do?” Sorcha asked as her mother began to serve breakfast.
“Nothing good.” She’d been an idiot. Grabbing the bag had seemed like such a good idea at the time, but now she knew better. All she’d done was invite trouble into her life, and—worse—she’d caught Finn up in her mess, too. “I took something that didn’t belong to me and I saw something—”
“You’re a thief,” Colin Finn said, reentering the room. He kicked at his brother’s foot. “You brought a thief to Ma’s house?”
“It was already stolen,” Finn corrected smoothly, defending her, even though his brother was right. “Gina here stumbled onto someone buying police evidence, and in the process, she witnessed the murder
of a police officer.”
“Police evidence.” The lines on Colin’s face deepened. He didn’t look pleased. “You couldn’t take her somewhere else?
“And why shouldn’t Gabriel bring her here?” Kaitlyn interrupted, slamming the pan full of hot eggs down on the table. “Your brother’s still a member of this family. He’s always welcome, and so are his friends.”
There was a moment of silence as all the Finn children soaked in their mother’s words. Sorcha cleared her throat nervously. “You haven’t talked to him in ages.”
“It doesn’t matter. He’s still my son.” Kaitlyn turned to face Finn directly. “You’re still my son. Nothing you could ever do will change that.”
“I left the priesthood.”
She snorted angrily. “Those old fogies? They didn’t understand what you did.”
“I broke my vows. I disobeyed—”
“And that’s another load of bull.” Kaitlyn’s voice rose an octave. Having decided to talk to her son again, she clearly wasn’t going to hold anything back. “You saved that boy’s life, Gabriel Finn, sure as I’m sitting here.” Her cheeks were red. Slim shoulders were shaking under her blue cotton dress. “Did he tell you what happened?” she asked Gina. “Did he tell you about the reason he left his home? Why he doesn’t deserve to be happy with the people who love him?”
“Enough,” Finn snapped. The hand on Gina’s waist tightened. Tension filled the air like a thunderstorm on the horizon. When he finally spoke, it was in a husky murmur. “There was a boy at the school—”
“You don’t have to tell me,” Gina interrupted. “Not if you don’t want to.”
He shook his head. “You need to know…there was this kid. He wasn’t in any of my classes—he was too young—but he liked to hang out and watch the older kids’ boxing lessons. He always had bruises. He was clumsy, so I thought there was nothing to it…right up until he didn’t show up to school for a week. I went to his house just to check in, and there was a bruise on his face the size of a man’s hand.” His voice crackled. “I told him to get in the car, that I was going to take him to the hospital. That’s when his child-abusing monster of a father grabbed me.”