by Addison Fox
Finn fought his instinctive fear of cops and followed Rowan’s retreating form. She’d raced from the car the moment it came to a stop, and even now he could see her weaving in and around the throng of people on scene.
And he was there to pull her into his arms when the dam broke over her sobs the moment she saw the large body sprawled over the sidewalk.
“Shhh.” He pressed his lips to her ear, crooning nonsense as he cradled her tiny form against his chest.
“Will. Oh, Will. It’s my fault.”
He said nothing beyond the nonsense words, but did allow his gaze to roam the scene. Emergency workers still hovered over Will’s body, and several cops surrounded Debbie. One had draped her in a heavy wool blanket and Finn didn’t miss the streaks of blood that covered her face and neck.
The last few minutes in the car were tense and he didn’t get much from Rowan except the confirmation of Will’s last words. He was attacked because of the trip to Egypt.
More specifically, Finn knew, Will was attacked because they’d called him in to help on the assignment.
Which only reinforced the question he’d asked himself all week. What the hell was going on? He’d spent his life on jobs and on occasion one did go sideways, but never like this. And never to someone so peripheral to the job as Will was to theirs.
Anger coursed through him with the force of a tsunami at the senseless loss of life. And fear was its counterpoint as he desperately tried to make sense of it all.
How could he even think of taking Rowan into this situation if the danger was so high?
Rowan slipped from his arms, dragging her hands over her cheeks. “I need to see Debbie.”
“Of course.”
He kept a hand on her arm and escorted her around the throng of professionals hard at work. Debbie sat on a small brick ledge that ran the perimeter of their property, her face red with tears as she sat huddled in a blanket. Rowan sat next to her and pulled her close, and Finn tried again to sort through the events of the past days.
All Will had done was nose around a message board. People didn’t get killed over digital forum threads on the internet.
His gaze drifted to Will’s form on the sidewalk, taunting his beliefs. The cops had covered the body, but it didn’t change the stark wash of grief that gripped the scene.
Or Finn, when he calculated his own role in Will’s death.
Rowan waved him over and he positioned himself so the body wasn’t visible if their gazes traveled as his had.
“Debbie. This is Finn. He’s helping us.”
Shock painted the young widow’s gaze, and her eyes were red with tears when she looked up at him. “I need your help.”
“Of course.”
The woman shook her head and grabbed his hand. Her grip was strong and her voice was desperate when she finally spoke. “Not like that. I need your help.”
“Of course.”
“Rowan said you’d find the people who did this.”
Could he do that? He’d skirted a lot of lines in his life, but hunting down individuals with the intent to garner payback had never been at the top of his agenda.
“Please, Finn. For my husband. For his children that have been left behind. You have to find them.” Debbie’s voice dropped. “And you have to make them pay.”
* * *
Jared paced the warehouse—his first real-estate purchase years before—a waterfall of obscenities streaming from his lips. The urge to throw something was strong, but nothing was handy, so he had settled for pacing and screaming, then screaming and pacing. “When the hell did this go so off the buggered rails?”
He’d worked his way up from London street thug to small-time crime leader to the position he enjoyed now as one of the city’s top crime bosses. Very little in the city went down without him knowing it, and in the past few years, his empire had expanded to much of Europe. He was a man with a plan, and bludgeoning a university professor to death wasn’t on the agenda.
“He’s a damn teacher. What sort of threat is a teacher?”
Although Teddy had walked in with a cocky swagger, a half hour of getting the piss verbally beat out of him had knocked him down a few pegs. He now sat on a folding chair in sullen silence, only answering questions when asked. “He’s working with Gallagher.”
“So? He posted a few messages on a damn board. You were supposed to watch him. We set those threads up to deter attention, not create it.”
“Something was off with the professor. He’s too sharp. And he was sending messages all night long. I’m telling you, he’s onto us. I read the code analytics and someone hacked into the back end of the system.”
Jared lifted a hand, the discussion veering into territory he knew nothing about. “You had no authorization to do this.”
“I acted as I saw fit.”
“With a cricket bat?”
“It’s easy to burn and remove all traces of it ever existing. Just the way I like my murder weapons.”
“There should never have been a damn murder in the first place.” The reassuring metal of his gun sat in his waistband, and Jared toyed briefly with idea of taking Teddy out.
Could he do it? Despite the boneheaded move, the man had been in his employ for a long time. Long before the Victoria bracelet. Hell, they’d grown up together.
So why was it lately all he wanted to do was get rid of Teddy and see his lifeless body dropped into the Thames?
Was it her?
She’d whispered in his ear more than once that he needed to cut his deadweight. Poor performers didn’t belong on a high-performance team; they only dragged everyone else down.
You’re a businessman, Jared. Learn to act like one.
Then she’d given him a book on management tactics and told him to read chapter six on how to fire people, before she stripped down to a thin nightgown that left nothing to the imagination.
Jared refocused his attention on Teddy’s huddled form. “And you don’t think anyone saw you?”
“Street was dark and no one was around.”
“Let me repeat the question. Do you think anyone saw you?”
“Hell no, mate. It’s a quiet street in a quiet neighborhood. It was nothing like sticking Gallagher this morning.”
“Like doing what?” The words dripped from his lips, nearly in slow motion. “When?”
“It was nothing, mate. Just a little shake-up.”
Rage—pure as a fresh snow—rose up from the very depths of his being. “On whose orders?”
“I’ve got initiative.”
“I’ve known you a long time, mate.” He stressed the word for effect. “And in all that time, I’ve yet to see a lick of initiative in you. Who told you to touch Gallagher?”
When Teddy said nothing, Jared let the anger pour forth in a river of vengeance. “Who?”
He kicked the legs out from Teddy’s chair at the same time he screamed, the effect of simultaneous noise and motion sending the man into a disorienting fall. Before he could scrabble to his feet or reach for whatever weapon he had on his person, Jared was on top of him, his gun already in hand.
“Who told you to attack Gallagher? Who’s pulling your strings?”
“I got nothing to say, mate.”
Sweat poured from his forehead as he looked into the flat green eyes of one of his oldest friends.
He’d miss Teddy. Would miss him terribly, but he couldn’t tolerate someone who didn’t follow orders.
Jared leaped up, the move casual as he extended a hand to Teddy to help him stand. The man took it, relief washing his face in a shaky smile. “Thanks, mate.”
Years flashed before his eyes as Jared lifted his pistol, but he ignored them in favor of what needed to be done.
The gun exploded before Teddy
even registered the shot was directed at his head.
* * *
Rowan heard Finn’s voice but couldn’t seem to focus on anything he was saying. Everything sounded as if it was coming from a distance, like she was underwater, struggling to surface.
“Rowan.”
She turned to look at Finn, the tone of his voice extra sharp. “Yes?”
“We’re here. At your hotel. Let me walk you up.”
He helped her from the car, then followed her to her room. Had it only been two days since he’d last walked her up?
So much had happened, much of it bad. The attack the other night after the museum party. Finn’s knife wound this morning. And now Will.
Another sob racked her frame as the image of Will’s prone body laid out on the sidewalk resurrected itself in her brain.
“Shh.”
“It can’t be real. I keep thinking it’s a dream and then I see Will’s body and Debbie crying and I know that it is.”
“I’m sorry it’s real. So sorry.” Finn kept his arm around her as they walked toward her door. “Why don’t you give me your key?”
She dug it out of her purse and handed him the plastic card, his gentle compassion going a long way toward pulling her from her thoughts. “Thank you.”
“Do you want me to get you anything? Something from room service? Do you want me to call anyone? I can call your grandparents.”
A hard stab of guilt lodged under her skin but she ruthlessly tamped it down. Instead, she forced bravado into her tone and turned to face him across her hotel suite. “I’d prefer they don’t know. They’ll only worry.”
“And they’d be right to.”
“I can’t put them through that.”
His gentle tone vanished, replaced with one that was hard and implacable. “Rowan, you can’t do that to them. They’re going to hear about it. They deserve to hear about it from you.”
“And let them spend the next three weeks thinking I’m in Egypt at risk?”
“You are at risk. We both are.”
She wanted to ignore his swift response but knew an omission to her grandparents was the same as a lie. And she’d stopped lying to them a long time ago.
She thrived on the risks in her job—enjoyed doing the things that few could or even wanted to—but she’d never faced a situation quite like this one.
“It’s three in the morning. I can’t call them now. But I will. In fact, I’ll go see them in the morning and tell them in person.”
“That’s fair.”
“It’s about the only fair thing about this situation.” She wiped at the tears that didn’t want to stop and dropped onto the couch. “I can’t stop picturing his body. And when I get a few moments of reprieve, Debbie’s words run through my head. She’s a widow with two small children. Because of me.”
He was back at her side, his arms wrapped around her. “You didn’t do this, Rowan.”
“But Will would still be alive if it weren’t for me.” A hard laugh welled up in her throat. “It’s ironic, isn’t it? I spent the last twelve years convinced I’d gotten someone killed and was all wrong. I find that out and two days later I actually am responsible for someone’s death.”
“You didn’t do this.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “You aren’t responsible.”
She took comfort in his words, but couldn’t erase the guilt that wouldn’t go away. Like a brand on her skin, she’d carried it for over a decade. “I’m sorry I left you to die.”
Finn lifted his head and stared down at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“At the Warringtons’. I left you there to die and I just kept going.”
“What would have been better? Getting shot at, too? You were in survival mode, nothing more.”
“But I left you.”
“And I wanted you to.”
His hazel gaze had darkened in the dim light of the room, the irises a tawny gold. No matter how hard she searched, she didn’t see judgment or anger or any lingering hostility. But how could that be? “I left you.”
“And if you hadn’t, you wouldn’t be here today.”
Another protest formed on her tongue but faded when he pressed his mouth to hers.
“I couldn’t bear it if you weren’t here, Rowan.” The words were a whisper against her lips before he gathered her up and dragged her onto his lap.
The cold that had settled deep inside of her the moment she heard Debbie’s cries on the other end of the phone faded as Finn cocooned her with his body. The external heat matched the rising heat inside of her and she wrapped herself around him, desperate to give in to the attraction that consumed them both.
“Finn.” She whispered his name. Only his name.
And then reached for the life-affirming opportunity to be with him. “Please stay with me.”
He did lift his head at that, his eyes hazy with the demanding strains of arousal. “Are you sure?”
His hard body stiffened beneath hers and she smoothed her palms over his shoulders. “I’ve never been more sure about anything. Stay. Please.”
He leaned forward to press his lips to hers. “I’d like that.”
His arms wrapped around her and he dragged her the short distance to the bed, landing on his back and cushioning her as she fell over him. She marveled at his strength and scrambled up to a sitting positing so she could explore him properly. “You’re wearing too much.”
His smile was lazy, but she still saw the edges of wariness in his eyes. “Just taking it slow.”
“Maybe I don’t want it slow.” The tease rose up and she realized it was the truth. She wanted mind-numbing pleasure and she didn’t want to have to think any longer.
“Then what are you going to do about it?”
She quirked an eyebrow at him, rewarded with the rumble of his laughter before she reached for the long column of buttons on his shirt. His heart thudded underneath her shaking fingers as she pulled the first button loose and it was the encouragement she wasn’t even aware of needing.
Finn was as aroused as she was.
The thought was exhilarating and so very sexy. His fingers ran lazy circles over her thigh where she knelt next to him, and Rowan struggled to keep her mind on the task at hand. Moment by agonizing moment each button popped free until she was able to lean forward and drag the shirt off his thick frame. Hard muscles flexed under her fingertips and she gazed on the perfect ridges of muscles that sculpted his arms.
“This T-shirt is in the way.” She dragged the white cotton up his torso, stopping abruptly when she caught sight of the bandage that covered his side.
“Oh, Finn. I’m sorry. Does it hurt?”
“If I say yes, are you going to stop?” His smile was broad despite his terse words.
She traced the edges of the bandage before lifting her fingers to trace the puckered scar from the gunshot. “Are you sure?”
His hand was tight over hers, stilling her movements. “Positive.”
While she suspected the wound had to be giving him some trouble, the doctor’s assessment that morning had been more than encouraging and the damage had been minimal. With that in mind, she sat back and allowed her gaze to roam over his torso, feasting on the hard planes of his body.
He was like one of the sculptures she loved to look on at the museum. As hard and unyielding as the Younger Memnon statue, yet so vibrantly alive.
Real.
And gloriously touchable.
“You’re beautiful.” She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his chest, kissing a trail from one nipple to the next before shifting to lick a path along the thin line of hair that disappeared into his slacks. He exhaled on a heavy breath when she came to the waistband of his pants and she took a moment to stop and look at him.
The arousal she’d seen earlier was nothing compared to the eager desire that lit the depths of his gaze. Tension bracketed his mouth and his entire body practically hummed with sexual tension.
She swallowed hard, the intensity of the moment catching her off guard. She wanted Finn, of course, but never had she made love with a man when it felt so necessary.
“Rowan?”
“Hmmm?”
The tension never left his body, but when he spoke there was nothing but a gentle tenderness in his tone. “Is everything all right?”
“Everything is more than all right. It’s perfect.”
* * *
Rowan’s words echoed in his ears and he couldn’t hold back the primal burst of satisfaction that flooded his body. They’d danced around their attraction the past several days—hell, there’d been seeds of it all the way back to their youth—but they were on opposite sides of a large chasm he’d thought them unable to cross.
And it was with that realization that he knew he needed to stop what was rapidly heading out of control.
Finn reached for her hands, drawing them together in his. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this.”
“What?” The sexy smile that hovered about her lips faded and Rowan sat back on her heels, disengaging her hands and dropping them on her lap. “Why not?”
“For starters, it’s not because I don’t want to.” The stiff lines of his body added their protest and he fought the urge to scream when she shifted next to him, her hand brushing his thigh.
“What is it, then?”
“Nothing’s changed since last night, Rowan.” He was honor-bound to say the words and wouldn’t have it any other way, but even as he said them he couldn’t help wondering if his personal choices really were ruining his life.
Oh, he’d always thought himself in control, but was he? And even if he attempted to stop stealing, could he give it up?
His gaze roamed over Rowan’s slim form. The slender shoulders and small frame. The tender lines of her jaw and the bright, vivid blue gaze that drew him in and made him want more.
He’d spent his life as a thief and had carried very little remorse for that fact. But could he really take this from her, especially when he doubted his ability to change?