© 2014 Titan Inkorp
All Rights Reserved.
Cover art:
Design: Danielle Taylor
Model: Frankie Guerra
Photographer: Golden Czermak
In accordance with the U.S. Copyright act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author's intellectual property, and is a punishable and fineable offence.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without permission in writing from the owner. Excerpts for reviews – only when stated as such and quoted – are an exception.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, are entirely coincidental.
First Edition: March 2014
Dedication:
To my lovely beta reader, Jennifer, for falling love with the characters and their story.
To my readers; each of you has a special place in my heart.
And to my husband. Sometimes you drive me insane but I love you like crazy.
“Beagán a rá agus é a rá go maith.”
(Say little, but say it well.)
~Irish Proverb~
Never pick up strangers from the side of the road.
Ever.
No matter the circumstances.
Up until this moment, Amelia followed the rule. But something about this particular person made her stop, pull onto the side of the road just outside of Dundalk, Ireland, and offer assistance.
Tall and broad and muscled, the man fit the description of an ancient Celtic warrior. The defeated slouch in his shoulders stole her attention. Amelia spent a few days a week back home helping out with various local charitable outfits and she saw many people with the same posture as this man.
She looked his clothing over; a tattered navy blue sweater better suited for a younger or smaller man, grit embedded into the fabric of his jeans, rips and tears from the rear waistband down to the frayed hems at his heels. Under his clothes was a body hardened by bulges of muscle. Each step he took, she saw him flex, watched the strain of his shirt over his shoulders.
In the time she spent studying him, the man never once turned around. He walked at a too-slow pace for a man his size. He seemed almost completely dejected. Emotion pinched in her chest. What brought a person down so low?
Her own heart broke into irreparable shards the moment she lost Poppa. The only man she ever loved was nothing more than a million memories and a handful of ashes filling an urn in the back seat of her rental car.
Maybe this man lost someone dear to him. While she held herself together to see to Poppa’s last wishes, she imagined the man walking on the side of the road gave up completely.
Amelia honked the horn once and waited. He paused, dropped his head lower, and continued on his trek. His feet dragged on the pavement, heavy with…what, grief?
What’s with this guy?
She tapped the horn once more and he repeated his actions.
Determination squared her shoulders. If she had any purpose in life, this might be it, and Hell be damned if she’d let him suffer alone. Amelia shoved open the door, narrowly avoiding a car that whizzed past. Checking the way was clear, she hopped out, shut the door, and started after him.
“Hey!” Amelia called out. “Stop!”
He did, hesitating mid-step for just a second before letting his foot touch the ground again. He didn’t speed up his escape but kept the same crestfallen pace.
“Wait up!”
Amelia ran to catch up with him, snaring the toe of her sneaker on the uneven pavement. The ground came at her quick and unexpected. The sting on her palms from slapping against the pavement was nothing compared to the bone-jarring pain in her knee. A string of expletives shot from her lips on an exhaled breath as she tried to push herself up.
“You’re mad, you are,” a deep, growling, and accented voice said from above her. “Bloody mad. Take my hand.”
Dusting away the few bits of rock and dirt stuck to her palms, she accepted the stranger’s large, warm hand. He pulled her up like she weighed no more than a large bag of flour. On her feet, she cringed at the sharp pain in her right knee when the slightest amount of pressure was applied.
The man dropped his shabby bag and helped her to stand with both of his arms. “Why are you coming after me? Want your pound of flesh, is that it?”
Thoroughly confused, Amelia gazed up into the face of a furious man, who looked as though he could use about a week’s worth of sleep. “I-I’m sorry? Flesh? Wha– I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just pulled over to see if you needed a ride somewhere.”
His irate mask faltered. “A ride?”
“Yeah. I mean, I never pick people up on the side of the road like this, but…” She shrugged, tearing her gaze from his dark, guarded eyes. “You looked like you could use one.”
“So, you weren’t just…” His expression changed to skeptical. “…following me?”
“I was trying to get your attention.” She laughed, looking back up. “You ignored my honking so I called out to you. Anyways, it seems now I’m in need of some assistance.” Amelia put some pressure on her right leg and winced.
“But”– His brow furrowed –“don’t you know who I am?”
“Look, if you’re a local celebrity, I’m sorry for not recognizing you. This is my first time in the country and I haven’t even been here for a full twenty-four hours yet.”
“No, I uh, I’m no celebri– never mind. Let’s get you back to your car.”
“Thanks,” she said.
He stood stock still for a moment. Wariness clouded in his eyes. A thousand expressions danced over his granite features.
Then he bent at the knees to retrieve his bag, slinging it over one shoulder. He walked around her until he reached her back. Amelia held her breath. Did she do the right thing by stopping? Had she read him correctly? Or was this a monumental mistake?
The man lifted her by the elbows. “Keep your shoulders locked, lass, and I’ll bear your weight.”
Her feet left the ground. Man he was strong! She wasn’t the skinniest of girls, nor did she fit the category of needing to go on a strict diet; Amelia had curves. Hours of sitting at a computer and writing code for her games, combined with a diet of take-out food helped see to that. When she wasn’t working, she tried to get some exercise in though.
During the trip back to the car, Amelia tried not to think about the warm, sturdy abdomen pressed against her back, or the pair of firm arms holding her up. By some miracle, they arrived at the rental before her mind ran totally out of control. She felt enough pain when standing and it kept her head in check. Sort of.
Amelia groaned.
“I seriously doubt you’ll be driving with a leg as sore as that. Have you got anyone to call?”
“No, all my family is back in Canada.” Surely it couldn’t be so bad that driving was out of the question?
The man said something in another language – Irish, she assumed – and shook his head, sighing. “Where are you headed?”
“South. Anywhere, really. Just exploring.” Amelia eyed the cars that kept going by as they edged closer to her rental. She didn’t think it pertinent to disclose the true nature of her round the country trip.
As if reading her mind, the man nodded. “Can’t stay here much longer. Besides, it’s not legal to park here. I’ll drive you somewhere
to stay for the night and we’ll get your leg checked, aye?”
“Thanks,” she sighed, though he wouldn’t get her anywhere near a hospital. “I’m Amelia, by the way.”
Cautiously, he offered, “I’m Daniel. Let’s get you into the car.”
A voice called out in her head sounding too much like Nan’s. If her grandmother was here she would smack Amelia on the back of the head for being so thick-headed as to let this strange man into her car.
But she wasn’t here. Nan stayed behind while Amelia saw to everything here in Ireland. Bad enough that she had to do this trip on her own, never having been to the country before, but the urn sitting in the back seat of her rental made Poppa’s death all the more real.
Settled in the passenger seat, Amelia watched the great, hulking Daniel attempting to move the driver’s seat back. His legs were squashed up to the steering wheel column, making him look like a giant in a clown car.
After a minute of him muttering under his breath while sliding hands down the sides of the seat, Amelia giggled. She leaned across the console between them to show him where the controls were located. His thanks came in the form of a relieved sigh when she pointed to the buttons.
“Electric,” he mumbled as the chair slid backwards. “Times sure have changed.”
That was an odd comment.
She stuck her nose in. “What do you mean?”
Daniel’s head snapped to the left and he eyed her with extreme caution. “Eh, nothing.”
She planned on pressing the issue.
Amelia shut her eyes for a second.
Just a second.
She was so tired. No rest on a trans-Atlantic flight and hours spent in a lawyer’s office dragged her into exhaustion’s abyss. Shortly after her arrival in Dundalk, Amelia met with Poppa’s lawyers to discuss his will. Nan said she couldn’t come back. She wanted to stay in Canada, said she couldn’t face Ireland without her husband.
Amelia would never see his smile again – the one that made his pale green eyes sparkle – or hear his laughter, feel his warm embrace. The man she regarded as her father was gone and all the money in the world couldn’t bring him back.
The lawyer gave her a list of properties Nan and Poppa owned, with instructions on what he wanted done with them. Nan didn’t want to have any ties to them, so Amelia transferred the account into her name and each set of tenants would pay rent into it.
From there, she would see that Nan got the money into an account in Canada. However, the final place on the list, a cottage up in the north of Ireland, near Malin Head, was a gift for her. This would be the last stop on her travels and depending on the state of the place, Amelia had a decision to make; set the cottage up as a permanent residence, or save it for a holiday home.
“Here we are.”
“What?” She rubbed her sleep-heavy lids then looked around. Amelia saw a sign for Blackrock Bed & Breakfast. A quaint little stone cottage painted white and green, with a perfect view of the sea.
How fitting for her very first night in Ireland, she mused. Poppa would have loved it. That thought alone brought forth a sluice of hot, stinging tears. Tears she didn’t want to shed in front of a stranger.
“I’ll help you get inside then,” Daniel announced, removing his seatbelt.
She took her belt off and he came around the car, opening her door. For a man over six feet tall, he was fast.
Once she grabbed the zippered shoulder bag she kept her wallet and essentials in, Daniel lifted her from the seat. He stood her on his left side, wrapping his arm around her waist to steady her on the way to the B&B’s door.
“She’ll be having a room for the night,” Daniel announced for her at the small reception desk.
The woman opened her mouth to reply but the phone rang and she excused herself to answer it.
Amelia glanced up at him, noticing the small spider web of a scar near his left temple. It looked like someone had thrown a rock at him and the resulting scar reminded her of a stone hitting a car’s windshield. “What about you?”
His dark brows arched in disbelief. “What about me?”
“Do you have somewhere to stay?”
Pursing his lips, Daniel made a few non-committal grunts. He shrugged. “Best for everyone if I continued on my way.”
Amelia didn’t know why she felt this incredible urge to help him, but it seemed like he needed a friend. In all honesty, she could use one too. The only people she called friends, aside from Gabby, a fellow gamer, were her family. Everyone else was just a leech, sucking up to her in the hopes of getting something for free.
They had been that way ever since she could remember; her recent accomplishments in the world of online RPG (Role Playing Games) brought forth more lecherous backstabbers from the shadows.
“I’m sorry about that,” the woman at the desk said, replacing the phone. “So you’re wanting a room then? For just the one night?”
“Two rooms, if you have them,” Amelia replied.
“Now, wait just a–”
Maeve, as her nametag read, interrupted Daniel. “We’ve only got the one, but it has a big bed. And if you wanted, there’s a cot-bed that could fit in there as well.”
He stared at her, obviously torn.
“We’ll take it,” Amelia said, pulling out her credit card.
Neither of them spoke during the short walk upstairs to the room. Daniel helped her hobble up the steps while Maeve chattered about the area, room service, and meal times, finishing with the available amenities just as they reached the end of the hall. Placing the key in Daniel’s hand, she told them the cot, extra bedding, and pillows would be brought up within the hour.
“I won’t stay with you,” he growled, pushing the door open.
She shook out her hair hoping the moisture in the air hadn’t frizzed her up to look like a lion’s mane, and limped her way to the nearest chair. Leather-bound and sitting at an angle on the desk next to a pen and pad of paper, the room service menu beckoned her attentions. Amelia ignored Daniel, instead taking a glance through the menu.
“Wow, steak is pretty cheap here. I know what I’m having to eat.”
His stomach growled at the mention of food. Amelia hid her smile.
“It’s not right, me staying here with you,” he insisted. “It’s just…it’s not right.”
Heavy, palpable sadness permeated the space between them. On the surface, his body screamed of strength and power, and commanded a certain level of respect. But underneath this exterior his spirit had been crushed.
Whatever happened to Daniel, it peeled away the last layers of self-confidence and left him so despondent. All that remained was an empty husk of a man. For reasons she was unable to voice, Amelia couldn’t let him just walk away, especially if he had nowhere to walk away to.
“Where would you go?” she asked. “If you can prove that you have some place to rest your head for the night, I’ll let you walk out of here. If not, just eat a meal or two. Sleep in the damned bed.”
His demeanour changed. The hunch in his shoulders straightened. He filled the room. Big. Tall. Wide. Strong.
Breath caught in her throat.
“How do you know I won’t hurt you?” Daniel growled. “Little girl, you’ve no idea who I am or what I’m capable of, and yet here you are, offering to share a room, a bloody room with a lock on the door, with an absolute stranger. You’re either a saint or a psychopath.” Closing his eyes, Daniel shoved his palms against the lids and sat down on the edge of the bed.
Her heart went out to him, whoever he was and whatever he had done aside.
So he thought he would hurt her, did he?
Amelia considered what she knew about the man, aside from his name. A short list, but in her mind, actions and words held equal merit, depending on what they were. His actions and his words towards her, so far, had been kind.
In a soft tone, she answered, “If you wanted to hurt me, Daniel, you would have done it already.”
“That
answers that.”
His laugh came out more like choking. She pulled an unopened bottle of water from her shoulder bag and tossed it onto the crisp, white comforter. Daniel jumped to the other side of the room, looking for all the world like she would be the one to attack him.
He spotted the bottle and reached for it, mumbling, “Thanks.”
Amelia nodded. “Look, maybe we don’t know each other at all but at this precise moment in time, what do either of us have to lose if you stay the night?”
She paused to roll up the leg of her khakis, inspecting the affected area. The most loathsome part of her DNA was instant bruising and the purplish skin around her kneecap would get worse before it got better.
“Christ!” Daniel grimaced. “We should get you to a hos–”
“No!” The pant-leg went back down. “No hospitals.”
Daniel muttered a curse and sipped his water.
“It’s not that bad. Really. We Quinlivans bruise when poked.”
Water shot across the room in a fine mist from his mouth, most of which landed on her face. Daniel stared at her, mouth open, eyes wide. “Eh?”
Heat prickled her skin in a head to toe blush when Amelia realized what she accidentally implied. “I-I meant like this.” Using her index finger, she prodded herself in the clavicle, wincing when she pushed too hard. “You know, poke.”
Like repeating the words could make matters any better.
For the first time since their meeting, Daniel smiled. It wasn’t just a half-smile either, a slight curve of the lips that doesn’t quite reach the eyes. No, his entire face changed. Brightened even. Those earthy brown eyes glinted, creasing at the corners. Cheeks lifted with the outer edges of his lips, which parted wide to reveal a flash of teeth.
All too soon, it ended. His face took on what she assumed to be a practiced indifferent look, eyes guarded and flicking away from her every few seconds to check on his surroundings.
What had he been through?
Where the Streets have no Name Page 1