by Myla Jackson
Maybe they’d have a couple kids. A red-haired hellion like her mother and a precocious black-haired boy like him.
Fuck. He was screwed. In the short time he’d known Deirdre, he’d managed to fall in love with the beautiful model who had thousands of fans around the world swarming all over her when she went out in public. How could he compete with that kind of adoration? He was a jarhead, a marine, bound to serve his country. He could be deployed at a moment’s notice and she’d be left behind to hold down the fort. On the flip side of that coin, she could continue to work as a model for many more years and leave him behind to travel to exotic countries and pose with handsome men.
Who was he kidding? A life with Deirdre was not in the cards for him. He wouldn’t tie her down and she couldn’t tie him down. Not as long as he was in the corps. He still had eight more years before he could retire. More, if he wanted to stay. Staying past twenty had never been a question for him. Until he’d met the beautiful, red-haired Irish woman. Now he was questioning everything about his life.
Damn. And it did his body and mind no good lying awake when he could be sleeping and gathering his energy for when and if someone tried to get to Deirdre. For several more minutes he lay listening for anything. When nothing happened, and no reoccurrence of the sound that had awakened him surfaced, he slowly slipped back into sleep, Deirdre cradled in his arms.
Tomorrow was another day. He’d deal with his feelings and whatever danger came his way from killers or losing his heart to a beautiful woman. As sleep claimed Mack, a heavy weight of dread settled over him, that same feeling he’d gotten before things had gone south in a Taliban village raid on his last rotation to Afghanistan.
Chapter Eight
Deirdre slipped from Mack’s arms as the sun edged through the curtains hanging in the turret window. She had to shake her arms several times to get the blood flowing properly, having slept in the same position all night long. Grabbing clothes, her makeup kit and curling iron, she barricaded herself in the loo, determined to put on a presentable face in front of the marine who’d volunteered to protect her and had unwittingly stolen her heart.
As she’d lain in his arms last night, she’d contemplated her life as a model in high fashion, walking various runways or posing for pictures in national ad campaigns for which she was still in high demand. She should be glad about it, only she wasn’t. She couldn’t go anywhere without having photos snapped of her and whomever she was with. She couldn’t be free to run around town in jeans and a T-shirt, or skip makeup for even a day for fear of ending up on the cover of some feckin’ sleaze rag. And forget lying on a sandy beach anywhere without some paparazzi swarming her for an impromptu interview. Her life was not her own, and she was tired of it.
Her parents had been happily married and had doted on her as their only child. Deirdre had sworn to marry someone who made her as happy as her parents had been and to have three or four children. No only child for her. It was too damned lonely.
Had the circumstances been different, she would not now be with Mack. She’d be at a public appearance in Dublin and on the road shortly after to be on the set of a talk show in Belfast the next day. From there she was due to fly out to Tortuga for a swimsuit shoot, and she lost track after that.
Some life. The more she traveled, the more makeup it took to cover the ravages of sleepless nights and jetlag. She had an apartment in Dublin, but it had never really felt like home. Since her parents’ deaths and the subsequent sale of their house in south Dublin, she hadn’t had a place to call home. Being with Mack, his brothers, sister and Fiona reminded her of what having a family meant.
Families meant being surrounded by people who loved you. And when they weren’t around, it wouldn’t take long for them to be there for you when you needed them. She could see the love Mack had for his brothers and sister and their love for him in the way they kidded around and the way they came to his assistance when he needed them. They’d even included Fiona in their family since Wyatt loved her.
Deirdre dressed quickly, pulling on a pair of designer jeans, a white button-up blouse and an Aran wool cardigan. After brushing the tangles out of her unruly mop of hair, she dabbed a light foundation on her skin to protect it from the sun’s rays and applied a dusting of powder. She swept mascara across her long eyelashes and passed on the eye shadow. The curling iron had heated enough and she applied it to her hair in long, steady strokes, straightening the kinks out of her bed-hair, leaving it in long, full, bouncing waves.
Fiona was lucky to be a part of the Magnus clan.
The image in the mirror clouded behind a wash of tears. Deirdre blinked to clear her vision, only it caused more cloudiness. When a tear slipped from the corner of her eye, she knew she was in more trouble than she cared to admit. After only a few short days, she’d fallen for the American, his big, bulky muscles and his protectiveness. Worse still, she’d fallen in love with the idea of a big family and found herself envying her cousin’s marriage.
If it was just Mack, would she feel the same about him?
Another tear slipped from the corner of her eye and her shoulders sagged.
Yes. She had fallen for the marine despite all her warnings to herself. Feeling the need to get away from Mack and her feelings for him, she unplugged the iron, packed away her makeup and opened the door to the bedroom where he was sleeping.
Only he wasn’t there.
A rush of panic assailed her senses and she ran to the other door, opening on the spiral staircase that led down to the second and first floor of the castle. She leaned over the railing. Though she couldn’t see the bottom, she could hear Mack’s voice.
She backed away from the stairs, pressing a hand to her chest in an attempt to slow her racing pulse. In that second she thought he’d gone, she’d felt like she’d had her heart ripped out of her. Her reaction was utterly ridiculous. Soon he’d be gone from her life for good and she’d be on her own again. She’d better get used to it.
Slipping her feet into her shoes, she grabbed her purse and headed down the stairs to find Mack talking with the other guests of the castle in the sitting room. The spacious dining area was empty except for Kate, bustling in and out setting the tables and positioning condiments.
When she had all the tables set, she waved toward the dining room. “Breakfast will be served momentarily. Please come take a seat at the tables.”
Three older couples and four college-aged kids settled in, claiming seats.
Mack waited for Deirdre to join him before entering the dining area.
She glanced up at him. His face was clean, though heavily stubbled, and his hair was neatly combed back from his forehead.
“I didn’t mean to take so long getting ready. Where did you wash up?” she asked.
“There was a guest powder room on this floor. I thought I’d let you take your time.” He winked. “All worth it if you ask me. You’re beautiful as always.” He squeezed her hand, shot a glance toward the guests and turned back to steal a kiss.
Deirdre leaned into him, but the kiss ended all too soon.
“We should sit. Kate appears to run a tight ship.” He waved her ahead of him.
Her cheeks burning at the way she’d practically fallen all over him, and angry at herself for her reaction, Deirdre straightened her shoulders and led the way to the remaining table. Mack pulled her chair out for her and she sat.
Kate served each table with plates of the traditional Irish breakfast as she’d advertised the night before. Deirdre and Mack were last to be served, sitting silently awaiting their turn.
Mack dug in as soon as Kate served their plates.
Deirdre ate one of the eggs and a slice of toast, not very hungry but determined not to let Mack know it was because of him.
In the time it took for Deirdre to choke down the egg and toast, Mack had cleaned his plate of everything but the pudding.
He poked the disks with his fork and cut into one of them, lifting it to his mouth for a bite. He gri
maced. “It looked like sausage, but it doesn’t taste like sausage.”
“Because it’s pudding.”
“Back in Texas, pudding is soft, creamy and sweet.”
Deirdre smiled. “You’re not in Texas, cowboy.”
He grinned. “No, I’m not. And it’s pretty damned cool to be eating breakfast in a castle. The men in my unit wouldn’t believe this place. Remind me to snap some pictures.”
As Kate cleared the plates from the tables, the telephone in the sitting room rang. The castle owner excused herself to answer.
A minute later, she returned. “Mr. Magnus, it’s for you.”
A knot lodged in Deirdre’s throat as Mack rose to his feet.
“I’m coming with you,” she said, grabbing her purse.
He didn’t argue. Instead, he helped her out of her chair.
Together they left the dining room and found the telephone on a table in the sitting room.
Mack lifted the old fashioned receiver. “Hello.” He waited then repeated, “Hello?” His brow furrowed and his hand tightened around the receiver. A second later, he slammed the receiver down. Immediately he picked it up, dug a piece of paper out of his wallet and dialed the number on it.
After a moment, he spoke. “We’ve been found.” He hung up and grabbed her hand. “Time to leave.”
“Who was it?” Deirdre asked.
“No one.” Mack pulled her along behind him, heading for the stairs to the turret.
Struggling to keep up with him as he dodged around settees and wing-backed chairs, she asked, “Then why are we leaving?”
He paused at the bottom of the spiral staircase. “No one knows we’re here.”
Her eyes rounded and her heart plummeted to the bottom of her belly. “Except your brothers.”
“And now someone else.” He pointed to the stairs. “I’m staying here. Go up and gather whatever you absolutely have to have and get back down here ASAP.”
She patted her purse and shook her head. “I have my purse. I don’t need anything else.”
“Then we leave now.”
Deirdre followed Mack back through the dining room. “What about Kate?”
“We’re going on a walking tour of Cahir, if she asks. That’s all she needs to know.”
“If we’re leaving, shouldn’t we go out the front door?” Deirdre pointed to the entrance.
“There’s a door through the kitchen that leads to the outer wall of the castle grounds. It’s a shortcut to the train station.” Mack grabbed a stack of plates and handed them to Deirdre. “Take these.” He lifted another stack and headed for the kitchen.
Kate backed through the swinging doors as they reached it. “You don’t have to clean up after yourselves. That’s part of the package.”
“We don’t mind, do we, Deedee?” he said with a big, fat, fake smile.
“Not at all,” she replied.
Mack eased past the older woman. “We’ll leave the last table for you, Kate.” Then he pushed through the swinging door and Deirdre followed. They ditched the stack of dishes on the counter beside the sink and hurried out the backdoor into a cloudy, gray Irish day.
“Which way?” Deirdre whispered, her head swiveling around, her pulse pounding. If the killers had found them, they’d be waiting for them to make a move. They might even be watching all entrances to the castle and the surrounding grounds.
“I’d feel better if I had a weapon,” Mack lamented.
“Me too.” Deirdre ran alongside him, glad she’d worn flats and blue jeans instead of the dress she’d packed. “If they know we’re here, won’t they expect us to go to the train station?”
“The first train leaving in the morning departs in exactly ten minutes. If we made a clean getaway, it’ll take a few minutes before they realize we’re gone. Hopefully that’ll give us time to board the train and take off from the station before they can get there. But we have to get there before the train leaves.”
Deirdre ran faster. Though she exercised on a regular basis, she used treadmills and elliptical trainers. She wasn’t used to running all out and her lungs were struggling to provide enough oxygen to the rest of her system.
By the time they arrived at the station, her chest burned and she was wheezing with every breath she took. Mack fed Euros into the ticket machine and punched the buttons that produced two tickets to Dublin. Tickets in hand, they raced for the correct platform position to board. The train doors were open and all passengers had boarded. Deirdre and Mack leaped onto the train and hurried forward through the cars. Mack insisted on Deirdre leading the way while he brought up the rear.
At the juncture between cars, Mack paused and glanced behind them. “Fuck!” He shoved her through and ducked in behind her. “Stay low and keep moving.”
“What’s happening?”
“Was one of the guys you ran into in the hotel, tall, really broad, with swarthy skin and heavy black eyebrows?”
Deirdre leaned against the train’s wall. “Yes.”
“He’s about to step on board with another man. Shorter, and maybe a scar on his face.”
“Jazus, Mary and Joseph! That’s them.”
Mack pushed her through to the next car. “Find a door and get off the train.”
As she emerged into the next car, she ran for the doors and jumped off. The doors closed automatically behind her. She turned in time to see Mack trying to pry the doors open.
Deirdre shouted, “No!” and banged her palms against the doors as the train moved forward.
Farther down the platform, two burly, black-haired men stepped back from the train and turned toward her.
Her feet remained stuck to the concrete. She couldn’t move and she was back in the nightmare all over again as Mack and the train slid away from the station as if in slow motion.
Then adrenaline kicked in and she tore her feet loose from the imaginary shackles holding her to the platform. She had a twenty-meter head start on the men. If she could get out of the station and hide in the twisting, narrow streets, she might survive.
Deirdre ran for the exit, taking the stairs upward two at a time. Footsteps pounded behind her, closing the distance between them.
A sob rose up her throat, but she didn’t have time to feel sorry for herself. She swallowed it and ran across the street, dodging a passing lorry and ducking between two of buildings.
A shout rose up behind her. She didn’t stop to glance back but kept running. If she wanted to live, she had to keep going.
Mack tried to get through the sliding train door by jamming his fingers into the gap. But the door closed firmly, trapping his fingers. As he fought to free them, the train pulled slowly away from the station and Deirdre. Through the window in the door, he saw the two men who’d boarded the train on the platform several cars down from Deirdre.
“Damn!” He pulled hard, but his fingers were stuck. Bracing his foot on the door, he yanked hard enough he finally freed his hand, the fingers throbbing as blood rushed back into the digits. Then he hunkered down and slammed his shoulder into the door. It didn’t open.
Until the train cleared the small town it wouldn’t gain much speed. If he wanted to get out in time to help Deirdre, he had to do it fast. He ran to one of the windows, lowered it from the top. It was barely enough room to let air in, but he had to try. He climbed onto the seat and shoved his head through, then his shoulders. Pushing against the back of the seat, he wedged himself through the narrow opening and fell to the platform below, slamming his shoulder against the concrete just as the train picked up speed.
By the time he got out, Deirdre was gone and all he saw was the back of one of the dark-haired men, racing for the train station exit.
His pulse hammering through his veins and adrenaline blocking the pain in his fingers and shoulder, he charged down the platform to the exit.
Once outside, he slowed, caught sight of the man and sped up.
The guy was the smaller of the two men and dressed in a suit. He appeare
d to be carrying something in his hand as he ran across the street and slipped between two buildings.
Mack ran out into the street and was nearly struck by a car. The driver honked, but Mack ran on, ignoring the shouts, his focus on catching the man carrying what looked like a gun, before he found Deirdre.
Ducking between the buildings, he emerged in an alley behind them. The narrow road through the alley was empty. A flash of black caught his attention as a man slipped through the gap between more buildings backing up to the alley.
Mack followed, his heart in his throat, praying he wouldn’t be too late.
The gap between the buildings emptied onto a road leading to the main highway running through town. The men were nearly half a football field away when Mack saw them again. They were headed for the massive stone walls of Cahir Castle. Ahead of them, he saw a flash of red hair as Deirdre dove through the wooden doors of the castle.
He only had to get to the bad guys before they got to Deirdre. Unarmed and so far behind, he feared he wouldn’t make it in time. Sucking in a deep breath, he increased his speed.
Failure was not an option.
He crossed the two-lane highway and ran along a bridge and through the gate. The broad wooden door stood open. He hurried through and paused briefly to listen for shouts or sounds of footsteps.
For a moment, he heard nothing. Then the soft sound of feet disturbing gravel made him turn right into the main portion of the castle buildings. He hurried through the arched passages and beneath a jagged-toothed portcullis into an open area. He stopped in the shadows, listening again. A movement to his left caught his attention. Slipping along the base of a large rectangular building, he eased up to a door and peered around the edge. The larger of the two men stood in a hallway, peering into a room. After only a second, the man moved to the next room. In his hand was a pistol, his finger resting on the trigger.
If Mack had any doubt this man was not a tourist, the gun settled it.
As short as the hallway was, it wouldn’t take the big guy long to clear the floor and start up the stairs.