The Navy SEAL’s Holiday Fling: Ballybeg Bad Boys, Book 3

by Zara Keane

  Jill’s breath came hard and fast. While she had no regrets regarding the demise of her relationship with Ratfink, she was still smarting with humiliation over her fling with Jean-Baptiste. “How dare he show up to my party? What’s he planning to do? Buy a vibrator for his new girlfriend?”

  Olivia’s eyebrows shot north. “It’s not like you to get so irate.”

  “Jean-Baptiste was the first man I slept with after splitting up with Richard. I was stupid enough to believe it meant something to him.”

  “You went out with him a few times over the summer, right?”

  “We went out for six weeks, but I only saw him on the weekends.” Six passion-filled weekends that had ended abruptly one Sunday morning when Jean-Baptiste had received a mysterious phone call. “Then he took off like a bat out of hell, and I haven’t seen or heard from him since he made a half-arsed attempt to apologize two months later.”

  “Well, you’re about to see him now,” Olivia said, straining to see over the crowd. “He’s making a beeline straight for you.”

  Jill’s eyes widened at the sight of the man running toward her. Jean-Baptiste had indeed shaved his beard. He’d also replaced his unruly shoulder-length tresses with a military buzz cut. And there was something different about his eyebrows…

  To her amazement, he halted in front of the alarm box, grabbed a large dildo from a display table, and smashed the glass. Bells pealed throughout the room, bringing the reverie to an abrupt halt.

  Jill’s confusion morphed into anger. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, marching toward him. “That dildo is one of Blush Shoppe’s premium products. Are you trying to wreck my party?”

  “Fuck your party,” Jean-Baptiste said in an American accent. “We need to evacuate.”

  Jill blinked. This man looked like Jean-Baptiste, but where was his sexy French accent? She opened her mouth to voice her confusion, but he cut her off at the first syllable.

  “There’s a bomb in the building, probably in this room. We need to get everyone out. Tell your guests to move fast, but not panic.”

  The urgency in his voice silenced her objections. An icy prickle spread down her spine. The man must be mad. But what if he were telling the truth?

  She turned to her guests and spoke in a carrying voice. “May I have your attention please? The hotel is having a fire drill. Please leave your belongings and follow me.”

  Despite a few grumbles, everyone obeyed. With a minimum of fuss, they filed down the sweeping staircase that led to the hotel lobby, seeming confident they’d soon be back to their champagne flutes and sex toys.

  The protests began in earnest when they stepped outside into the chilly December evening. “If it’s just a fire drill, you could have given us time to fetch our coats,” one lady said in a strident tone. “After standing out here in the cold, we’ll all be sick for Christmas.”

  Jill turned to Jean-Baptiste and placed her hands on her hips. “What the hell is going on? What did I ever do to you to deserve this? Did you deliberately sabotage my launch party?” She jerked a thumb up at the windows of the conference room. “If you were going to play games, you could have had the decency to let us get our coats before ordering us outside in the freezing cold.”

  “There was no time,” Jean-Baptiste said, scanning the crowd. Jill followed the direction of his gaze but could see nothing unusual. “I had to get you out before the bomb detonated.”

  “Why did—”

  In that instant, a blast ripped through the second floor of the hotel, shattering the windows of the conference room they’d just evacuated.

  3

  Liam let out a string of expletives. He’d hoped the bomb threat was a hoax, but the instant he’d laid eyes on The Ghost, he’d known it was no joke.

  The crowd screamed as glass and debris rained down on them.

  Beside him, Jill gasped and began to shake. “Oh my God. There really was a bomb.”

  Liam closed the space between them and put his arms around her. She was so shocked by the explosion that she didn’t protest. He pulled her close and inhaled the familiar scent of her perfume. His heart skipped a beat. He’d missed this. He’d missed her. “You’re safe,” he whispered. “Everything will be all right.”

  In the distance, sirens wailed, growing closer by the second.

  Jill pushed back and stared at him, her beautiful dark eyes wide. “How did you know about the bomb?”

  “Lucky guess.”

  Her nostrils flared. “Bollocks. You’ll have to come up with a better explanation when the police question you.”

  “I only discovered the Blush Shoppe launch party by chance,” he said hoarsely. “Like the emergency services, I was headed for the store.” He exhaled in a whoosh, shoving away images of what would have happened had he not spotted The Ghost going into the hotel.

  Jill took another step back, adding distance between them. Her beautiful brow was creased in confusion, her eyes wide with fear. “Who are you? What happened to your French accent?”

  Liam hesitated before extracting his wallet from his jacket pocket. He’d have to inform the police what he knew and there was no point in delaying the inevitable with Jill. He flipped his wallet open to reveal his ID and handed it to her.

  She examined his identity card and then scrutinized his face. “Liam Ryan, securities operative. What does that mean?”

  He placed a finger on her lips. “Not so loud. When I met you, I was working undercover.”

  She thrust the wallet back at him and crossed her arms over her chest. “So you introduced yourself as Jean-Baptiste, French chef and intrepid sailor. You told me all about your little sister, your mother’s illness, and your dream of sailing around the world. Were all your stories blarney?”

  “I told you the truth insofar as I could, but I left out a few facts.”

  She snorted. “You don’t bloody say. You let me practice my halting school French on you. That must have given you a good laugh.”

  Over her shoulder, he spotted police cars, ambulances, and a fire truck pulling up outside the hotel. “I’m sorry, Jill. I never wanted to hurt you. Let’s talk later, okay? I owe you an explanation, but the police have just arrived and I need to talk to them first.”

  Her glare burned holes into his skin. “You do that, Mr. Ryan. And unless you’re planning to pay for it, you can give me back that dildo.”

  Liam blinked and stared at the huge purple dildo he clutched in one hand. “Uh, sorry. Forgot I still had this.”

  He handed the dildo to Jill with a grin, then turned and fought his way through the crowd. Some people were too stunned to speak. Others were crying. A few were covered in blood, presumably from the glass that had rained down on the crowd post-explosion. The firemen and women were tackling the blaze while the Emergency Response Unit guys conducted a search on the other floors of the building.

  Liam recognized a couple of the Emergency Response Unit guys from the incident on Inish Glas a couple of weeks previously, including their commander, who was standing to the side, liaising with ambulance and fire personnel.

  Liam jogged over to him. “Inspector Tobin.”

  The red-haired man squinted at Liam. “Jaysus. If it isn’t the Navy SEAL from Inish Glas. What are you doing here?”

  The two men pumped hands.

  “I’m the person who called emergency services with the bomb alert.”

  Inspector Tobin’s frowned. “That was you? How did you know there was a bomb in the hotel?”

  “I didn’t know for sure until it detonated. Long story short, the guy who issued the bomb threats against Blush Shoppe is a terrorist who goes by the moniker of The Ghost. I encountered him during my time as a SEAL. I believe I’m the only person who’s ever seen his face. When my boss called me and ordered me to drive to Blush Shoppe, I got stuck in traffic along the quays. I witnessed a man who looked like The Ghost entering the Sheldon Hotel. I followed him, saw a sign advertising the Blush Shoppe launch part
y in a second-floor conference room, and put two and two together.”

  “Your quick thinking saved lives,” Inspector Tobin said, running a hand over his balding scalp.

  “I’m glad to have been of service, but I’m worried about what The Ghost might be planning next.”

  “You have no idea where he went after he entered the hotel?”

  Liam shook his head. “By the time I reached the lobby, he’d disappeared. My guess is he planted the bomb and got the hell out.”

  “You searched for him?”

  “My primary concern at that moment was evacuating the hotel.”

  The policeman scratched his beard. “Will your boss be arranging a permit for you to work with us?”

  “He’s already put the steps in motion.”

  “I can give you emergency clearance in the meantime.”

  Liam raised an eyebrow. “So quickly?”

  Inspector Tobin’s expression turned grim. “Your boss told you about the bomb threats to five shops in five different cities?”

  “Yeah.”

  “The bombs were placed in buildings connected to Blush Shoppe, but not the retailers themselves. The Ghost’s bomb warning was a lie. He never meant to warn anyone. His goal was to kill innocent people, and he succeeded.”

  Liam’s limbs turned to ice. “The other bombs detonated?”

  The man nodded. “Blush Shoppe warehouses in Paris and Berlin exploded, as well as a delivery truck in Chicago, and a cargo plane carrying Blush Shoppe wares at Manchester Airport. The death toll worldwide is expected to exceed two hundred and fifty.”

  Liam swore in English and in French.

  “But thanks to you,” Inspector Tobin continued, “Cork’s casualties will be kept to a minimum.” The older man nodded to the hotel. “I’m waiting for confirmation from my team, but it looks like the hotel was fully evacuated before the blast.”

  “I hope to God that’s true,” Liam said with feeling.

  “We’re calling a meeting in an hour back at HQ. I’d like you to be there.”

  “I’d be honored.”

  The policeman slapped Liam on the back. “We’re grateful for your help. Sergeant Lally will drive you there in his car.”

  Lally, a squat muscular man in his mid-thirties, inclined his short neck in acquiescence. “Want to head now?”

  “Can you give me a sec? I’d like to say goodbye to someone.”

  Lally nodded. “Sure. I’ll wait for you by the post box.”

  “Thanks, pal.”

  Liam maneuvered his way through the throng to where Jill stood with her friend, Olivia. Both women were shivering and wore blankets around their bare shoulders.

  “Who knew I’d ever be grateful to a nun?” Olivia said through chattering teeth when he approached. “The nuns who run the homeless shelter on the quays provided blankets for those of us without coats, and hot drinks for everyone.”

  Jill regarded him with an expression of pure granite. “You’re being hailed as a hero, Mr. Ryan.”

  He ignored this and focused on her chocolate brown eyes. “I need to liaise with the Emergency Response Unit. We should be done in a few hours. Can I come by your house later? I’ll call you when I’m on my way.”

  Jill jutted her jaw. “What do we have to talk about?”

  “As you said earlier, I owe you an explanation. Let me give you one before you throw me out on my ass.”

  Olivia quirked an eyebrow. “Oh, let him come over, Jill. I’m dying to know why a US Navy SEAL has been running around Ireland incognito.”

  “I’m a former Navy SEAL,” Liam corrected. “My actions aren’t affiliated with the US military in any way.” Not officially affiliated with the US military, at any rate.

  “A Navy SEAL, did you say?” asked a strident voice behind him. “The punters will love this. Did you really smash the alarm box with a dildo?”

  When Liam whirled around to see who’d spoken, the flash of a camera blinded him. “No pictures,” he snarled. “If any photos of me appear in whatever paper you work for, you’ll have to answer to my boss.”

  Cash had no jurisdiction in Ireland, and even less over the media, but a photo of Liam appearing on the news was the last thing he wanted. While Liam was the only person to have ever eyeballed The Ghost, the man had also seen him. He couldn’t run the risk of The Ghost recognizing him from a photo.

  “Freedom of the press, Mr. Ryan.” The journalist smirked and backed into the crowd.

  “Fuck.” Liam ran a hand through his tightly cropped hair. “He must have overheard you say my name. My boss will go apeshit if my photo is splashed all over the news.”

  “Don’t blame me for your lies.”

  “Jeez, Jill. I’m not blaming. It’s just…” He trailed off before he revealed classified information.

  Jill treated him to an icy glare, her arms folded under her fabulous breasts. “Fine,” she said crisply. “I’m intrigued. Come by my cottage later. I deserve an explanation, and I expect it to be the truth.”

  Liam inclined his head. “Okay. I’ll call you when my meeting is over.” On impulse, he leaned down and kissed her cheek, relishing the softness of her skin beneath his lips. “À bientôt,” he murmured.

  Jill’s stern expression faltered, and her eyes clouded with an emotion he couldn’t decipher. “You are a prick, Liam Ryan. Now go and play hero. You might as well enjoy your moment of glory, because I intend to give you a right bollocking later.”

  He winked at her, nodded to Olivia, and melted into the crowd.

  4

  By eleven o’clock that night, Jill had cleaned and tidied her cottage and scrubbed the stone floors until they shone. She’d baked four batches of muffins that she’d never eat, reorganized the linen cupboard, and arranged her books in alphabetical order.

  The cleaning frenzy was an effort to calm her nerves. It hadn’t worked. She held her hands in front of her face and watched them tremble. Hot tears stung her eyes. She forced air into her lungs and tried to stay calm.

  On the drive back to Ballybeg, Olivia had switched on the radio. According to the news, over two hundred people were feared dead in four cities across the globe. That Cork wasn’t among them was only thanks to the mysterious Liam Ryan.

  Jill slumped onto the floor and surrendered to the tears. She could have been killed. She would have been killed, along with everyone else at the Blush Shoppe launch party. Despite the lack of concrete information on the news report, the international retail business targeted had to be Blush Shoppe. But why? Why would anyone want to murder employees of a sex toy company? A religious fanatic? A lone nut with an aversion to vibrators?

  Whatever the reason behind the attack, no one deserved to be murdered. Her heart broke at the thought of all those families left without their loved ones, of all the children whose holiday season would be forever tainted by the atrocity.

  On the kitchen counter, her mobile phone began to vibrate. Jill struggled to her feet, grabbed the phone, and hit connect. “Hello.”

  “Hey, Jill. It’s Liam. The meeting just finished. I should be at your place in around thirty minutes.”

  “Okay,” she said in a voice thick from crying. “See you then.”

  She rang off before he could respond. Whatever Liam had done to her last summer, he’d saved her life today. He’d saved everyone in the conference room. Jill was no bomb expert, but even she could tell an explosion of that magnitude would have left few or no survivors.

  She finished mopping the floor and jumped in the shower. She stood motionless in the small cubicle and allowed the hot needles to massage her skin. Damn the man. Jill dumped shampoo onto her hair and lathered it vigorously. Why did he, of all men, possess the power to make her blood hum? He was a liar and a fraud. He’d used and discarded her without a word of explanation. And yet he’d saved her life this evening.

  Why had she agreed to talk to him? Curiosity? While she was dying to know why he’d been masquerading as a French chef, she was furious with her
self for wanting to spend time with the man.

  Because that was the real reason she’d agreed to see him this evening. Since his pump-and-dump stunt over the summer, he’d been on her mind far more frequently than she cared to admit. Their fling had meant something to her. He was the first man to make her feel alive, to truly bring her pleasure in bed. She’d always wondered why her friends made such a big deal about sex when she found it ho-hum at best. The first night with Jean-Baptiste—Liam, she supposed she should call him—she’d finally understood what the fuss was all about. Her cheeks burned at the memories, and her heart rate kicked up a notch. He’d shown her how much fun sex could be and had proven once and for all that her ex-boyfriend had been wrong: she wasn’t frigid or disinterested in sex…if she was with the right man.

  Fifteen minutes later, she was clean and dressed and ready to face her visitor—more or less.

  When the bell chimed, she adjusted the skirt of her corduroy dress and wrenched open the door, determined to treat him with cool reserve. Her resolve melted the instant she laid eyes on him.

  Liam wore casual blue jeans and an open-necked shirt, revealing a hint of the intricate Celtic tattoo that circled his neck. His gaze roamed over her body, sending a searing heat up her cheeks and down to parts of her anatomy that really should know better.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said in his low, husky voice, tinged with an American rather than a French accent.

  Jill narrowed her eyes and stepped to the side to let him enter. “Don’t try to flatter me.”

  A slow-burn smile spread across his handsome face. “No flattery needed. I speak the truth.”

  “That must be a novelty.”

  His smile faded and his expression grew serious. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you the truth. I shouldn’t have started dating you, but I was lonely and—”

  “And I was willing and available,” she finished for him.

  “That’s not what I was going to say.” He pulled a bottle of red wine from inside his jacket. “Want a glass of vino while we talk?”