Resurrection

by Wendy Million

  “Christ, Carys. I don’t want you going to prison trying to save my ass.”

  “It’s done. You were unconscious, so you didn’t get a say.” Her lips rise at the corners, not quite a smile.

  “How’d you find out? Lorcan?”

  He didn’t kill me. Maybe he made sure I’d come out alive, too.

  She shakes her head and bites her lip. “Sean.”

  “Sean.”

  The truth drops like a piece of lead. Pisses me off that she could buy information from a key man in my organization. But without Sean caving, I’d be in custody. Death woulda been preferable to jail.

  “I need to transport you out of here tonight. Can you walk?”

  “I’ve made it to the bathroom and back a few times.” My gaze rakes over her, taking in the no-nonsense flats she’s wearing, as opposed to her heels. “I had to lean heavily on Eve.”

  Without missing a beat or breaking eye contact, she calls out to someone named Jay. A burly, olive-skinned man appears in the doorway.

  “Finn needs to lean on you on the way to the car.” She tilts her head at me, a challenge.

  “I need some fucking privacy to get dressed. I’ll be fine.”

  She holds out a hand to the man beside her and he places a shopping bag across her fingers. She swings it forward and lets it go so it lands beside my bed. She’s done that maneuver before.

  “We’ll be out of here when you’re ready.” She closes the door behind her.

  Easing myself to the edge of the bed, I wince as I grab the bag from the floor. Designer jeans in my size and a black T-shirt. I dress so slowly that at one point, Eve knocks to ask if I need help. It’s not her hands I want trailing across my body, even if it was fun to pretend for a while.

  With a sigh, I tug the shirt down and straighten. My stitches stretch with every movement, serving as a constant reminder my little brother chose a woman he’d only known a few months over me. An FBI agent. I didn’t think Lorcan had a clue about Kimi until we were face-to-face in our warehouse, and then it was pretty fucking clear he understood who Kimi was and what she’d been doing.

  When I open my bedroom door, there’s a waiting room directly outside and an office to the left. Eve leans against the office entry. Jay and Carys are sitting in the recliners, and she flips through a fashion magazine with one hand, her phone clutched in the other. She notices me as her phone buzzes.

  “Ready?” She peeks at the incoming message and sighs. She drops the magazine on the table beside her, and stands.

  “Eric?” Jay hoists himself out of the chair.

  “He landed.” She eyes me for a second, indecision written across her face.

  “Who’s Eric?”

  The ring on Eve’s finger. The way she sighed at his text. Adds up to something I don’t like. Was she engaged when we had sex months ago? Is she still engaged? The vice around my chest tightens.

  She glances at Jay. “A business associate.”

  My instinct is to demand more information. Instead I grunt and start toward the door. None of my business. She doesn’t belong in this shitstorm I’ve created. We had a single night a few months ago and nothing more. Just because she saved my life doesn’t change our reality. I gotta keep the head on my shoulders in charge, instead of the one in my pants.

  “Finn.” Her voice is soft, almost sad beside me.

  I raise by eyebrows in silent response.

  “You’re moving pretty slow. Do you want help?”

  I grit my teeth and shake my head. “I’m fine.”

  The words, are you sure, hang between us, but she doesn’t dare vocalize them.

  “Thanks, Eve.” I smirk and give her a wink on the way past. “You understand how to look after a guy. Your fiancée, Peter-Paul is a lucky man.”

  A blush rushes to Eve’s cheeks, and she turns away. Carys makes an exasperated noise, and I run a hand down my face to hide my grin. There’s something very satisfying in besting her.

  We file out into the cool, dark night. When we get to the car, I maneuver into the backseat with care. Carys sits in the front with Jay. Determined to avoid being close to me, I guess. Fine by me. I don’t need more complications. Easier to think when she isn’t within arm’s reach. As soon as she is, burying myself deep inside her is all I want. Years ago, being with her ran through me like a wildfire. Took her almost dying to snuff it out.

  As the vehicle accelerates through the city streets, I try to focus on what the hell I’ll do now. Getting revenge on Kimi is a happy thought, and I linger there, but it’s out of the question. There’s no way to go after her without dragging Carys, and possibly Lorcan, down. I’m not doing that. Lorcan might have shot me, but he’s still my brother, my last piece of family. Should I have looped him in when I allowed the Volkov’s murder our father? Probably. Can’t go back.

  From the front seat, Carys says, “Are you going to tell anyone else about Lorcan and Kim? The FBI connection? The truth is being covered over, but we could blow the whole thing wide open.”

  “Who would I call?”

  “Byrne brothers. Volkovs. Zhangs. Any of them?”

  “Fuck ’em.” I grab my neck and wince at the straining skin and stitches.

  I can’t even remember the last time I felt good. Apparently getting stabbed and then shot is a bad combination.

  “If they’re too dumb to figure out the truth, fuck ’em.” If they figure it out, they’ll go after Lorcan. We’ve got our problems, but nobody else better touch him.

  “You worried about the fallout for him?” Carys says.

  “He didn’t kill me.”

  “You make the gunfight sound like a fistfight in your parents’ basement.”

  “That’s the code.” I turn my gaze from the window to see streetlights dancing across her half-turned face. “Same rules apply. He’s my brother. I’m not giving anyone anything that’ll get him killed.”

  “Are you going after him?”

  I chuckle. “You worried you saved my ass just to have me put it on the line again?”

  A hint of a smile touches her face. “Wouldn’t be unheard of.”

  “Surprise. I’m finally growing up.” I smirk and spread my hands wide.

  Her laughter echoes through the car, warming my chest. I press the heel of my hand into the warmth and focus on the scenery outside as the city recedes and countryside takes over. In the distance a chalet is lit up like a landing strip. That’s gotta be hers. Charles Van de Berg has always been a big fan of extravagance in every aspect of his life.

  “Small and quaint,” I say.

  “You know my father.”

  I used to until I almost got his daughter murdered. Standing toe-to-toe with him outside her hospital room, covered in the blood of the men who put her there, is my most vivid memory. That and her expression when she realized she was stabbed. Christ.

  “You all right back there?”

  Her voice draws me out of my dark thoughts. Jesus. The number of people I’ve killed in my life, and the thing guaranteed to undo me every time is that expression on her face, startled, scared, full of disbelief. There was nothing I could do.

  The tightness in my chest eases at the realization she didn’t die. Close, but the doctors at the hospital worked their magic. Letting her go was the best decision I ever made. Might be the only choice in my life I’m proud of. “Fine. Thinking about how the hell to get out of Switzerland and on with my life.”

  From my profile view, her smile fades. “Yeah,” she says. “The sooner you’re on your feet, the better.”

  As we start up the long drive, Carys and Jay talk in low voices up front. I can’t quite hear what they’re saying, but when another vehicle is in the driveway, she lets loose a stream of curses.

  “Eric?” I try to catch a glimpse of his car.

  “When we go in, can you please keep out of it, Finn? Or else stay in the car until I get rid of him.”

  I sit forward while the car glides to a stop. Eric and I will not get alon
g if she’s already warning me. The pretentious Alfa Romeo in the driveway doesn’t help.

  “I’m not staying in the car,” I say. “And if he’s a dick to you, I’m gonna shut him up.”

  Carys sighs. “Just remember you’ve already been stabbed and shot in the last few weeks.”

  I chuckle. “Don’t worry. I’m sure I could still throw a mean right hook if I had to. Somebody can repair my stitches.”

  From her seat, she holds up a finger. “Promise me. Promise me you won’t touch Eric, no matter what.”

  With the door open, I ease myself out. “Has it been that long, Carys?”

  Straightening in the cool, night air, almost every part of my body aches. More drugs. I hope to hell she’s got good painkillers in there.

  “I never make a promise I can’t keep.”

  Chapter Four

  Carys

  I lead the way into the house. Each step is quicksand, tugging on my feet, sucking me deeper. Rescuing Finn was more instinct than intellect. For seventeen years I ignored anything to do with him. Then a whiff of the Donaghey brothers, thanks to Kim’s scheming, and I’ve been hauled into their vortex of death and danger.

  Not that the international arms business is sunshine and roses. I’ve grown up with those dangers, and my father is well-established. Everything in this world makes sense to me. Finn’s brand of rage, sex, and violence has always turned me on, but I never understood why.

  I stride through the house, my flats making me silent on the wood floor. Usually I make a more of an entrance. Finn and Jay are far enough behind that I should be able to warn Eric before the two men come face to face.

  Sitting on the couch, suit jacket open, feet propped on the table and a drink in his hand, is Eric. Like this, he makes my breath catch. He’s the opposite of Finn in his build and coloring, but his aura of power draws me to him.

  “You didn’t have to come all this way,” I tell him.

  A sly smile spreads across his lips. “You’re hiding something from me.”

  “We haven’t been engaged for years. I’m also your boss. So I suppose I can literally hide anything, and you can’t do shit about it.”

  His grin fades, and he turns in the couch to inspect me. “Don’t be a bitch. We’re missing a massive amount of product in Russia, and you’re more interested in a skiing vacation than tracking a thief? You can’t tell me that’s normal behavior for you.”

  “That’s the thing about being the boss. I assigned people to gather the information for me while I’m here. I don’t have to do everything myself. The word delegation was invented for that.”

  Eric raises his cranberry vodka soda and swishes it around his glass. He saunters over to me with the ease of a man who knows how this will go.

  “I can delegate with the best of them. There are people who require a more personal touch.” He grazes his fingers over my collarbone as he pushes my hair behind my shoulders.

  Normally his familiarity would cause a shiver to race down my spine. But I am so achingly aware of Finn’s approach, Eric’s caress barely registers.

  His rich brown eyes search me, trying to figure out what’s different. He might be an asshole and a cheat, but he can read people. He’s known me for so long in so many ways, my lack of reaction must jar him. “What are you doing here in Switzerland?”

  “Me.” Finn’s deep timber responds from behind me.

  Eric darts his gaze over my head, and confusion mars his face. “And you would be?”

  I half-turn, willing Finn to use an alias, any alias. Eric’s never been a threat to me outside the business arena, but I’m not sure what he’ll do about me harboring a known fugitive. One who almost murdered an FBI agent and, if he could do it again, would simply have better aim.

  “Finn Donaghey.”

  Eric’s eyes widen and he glances at me before straightening to his full height. It’s impressive. He’s six-foot-four to Finn’s six-foot stature. But Finn’s fighting motto has always been, The bigger they are, the harder they fall. Size never intimidated him. Eric’s lean, ropy, a runner. Finn’s bulkier, a brawler. Most people wouldn’t want to come across him in a dark alley.

  Unbidden, the image of him pressing me up against a cold brick wall, pushing his hands up my skirt, the ache to be with him, to have him inside me, is more than I can bear. It was the last time we were together before I was stabbed. Heat rises to my cheeks, and I turn from Eric, hoping he’s too focused on his rival to notice my sudden arousal.

  “Is he the reason the fucking FBI has been sniffing around the office in Chicago?” Eric’s drink sloshes over the edges as he gestures toward Finn.

  Not his first alcoholic beverage since arriving.

  “Yes.” I swallow, willing myself to stay in the moment and stop getting lost in the past.

  Finn’s not capable of feeling for me what I once believed I felt for him. He doesn’t do commitment. Most men don’t. Least of all Eric.

  “I’m helping him get sorted,” I say, “and then I’ll be back to the office. I have people figuring out what happened at the warehouse.”

  “Not just what happened, Carys. We need to comprehend why and who was involved and whether it’s likely to happen again. If we were a smaller organization, that theft would have ruined us. As it is, we don’t have a clue where those arms are headed. Our proverbial fingerprints coat them.”

  Lashing out is tempting, but when Eric’s been into the alcohol, he’s too easily riled. Given that Finn has already reminded me about his quick temper, I keep my anger in check.

  “I’m aware of the questions that need answered,” I say. “You being here instead of in Chicago or Russia isn’t helpful for any of them.”

  Finn moves around the two of us and crosses to the couch Eric vacated. Easing into the soft white leather, he takes us in with his flinty gaze.

  “Don’t mind me,” Finn says. “Pretend I’m not here. Carry on.” He waves his hand and then rests them over, last I checked, an impressive set of abs.

  “Are you going to get arrested?” Eric focuses on me, his jaw tight. “For the guy who almost got you killed years ago?” He brushes his fingers over the spot on my chest where the faint remnants of a scar still lie underneath my shirt.

  Finn raises his eyebrows. “You’re fucking lucky I’m recovering from bullet wounds, or you’d be having your ass handed to you right now. That’s your one asshole comment. I’d prefer to let my stitches heal. But if you poke this bear, you’re going to get the claws and my teeth.”

  “He’s not kidding.” I give Eric a pointed stare.

  His face contorts with disgust and disbelief. “A bear metaphor? That’s the best you’ve got?” He tucks a stray strand of my hair behind my ear.

  His constant points of contact are annoying me. He’s never this affectionate anymore.

  Tension vibrates off Finn. Is it the familiarity Eric is showing with me, or my ex-fiancé’s disrespect of him?

  “You have the shittiest taste in men,” Eric says. “He probably doesn’t understand metaphors.”

  Finn holds up two fingers. “Two credits shy of getting a business and literary studies degree. I could give you a better metaphor, but you seemed like a simple guy. I didn’t want to overwhelm you with my intellect.” He smirks and laces his fingers together across his middle again.

  “I’m simple? How the fuck, in this day and age, do you stay two credits shy of getting a degree?”

  “Well,” he says, drawing out the word. “You start by murdering a bunch of people in Ireland and then you keep killing people.” Finn shrugs. “Seems I was cut out for a path in life which didn’t require a degree.”

  My heart races, and my knees are unsteady. I can’t decide if I’ll vomit in disgust or faint with longing. Terrible taste in men is an understatement because everything he said makes me want to haul him upstairs and reacquaint my body with his.

  Eric pales at the implications of Finn’s words, and then he wheels on me.

  “We need
to have a discussion in private. I’m extremely concerned about what you’re getting yourself into here.”

  With a sigh, I purse my lips together. “I’ll show him where he’s staying, and we can chat.”

  “Jay can do that.” Eric nods toward Jay, who is by the main entrance.

  “No, he cannot. He’s guarding the door from anyone who might want to burst in here. I’ll show him to his room and come back.”

  “I’m not tired yet.” Finn settles deeper into the couch.

  There’s no way I am pleading with him to leave the room. “Fine,” I grit out. “Eric and I will go spend time in my room, alone, to get privacy then.”

  Finn holds up a hand. “I can show myself to my room. It’s fine. Where is it?”

  As he rises, it’s clear he’s still stiff and sore. Seeing him weak softens me toward him and his stubbornness.

  “Up the stairs, fourth door on the left. The last one.”

  “Where’s your room?” He angles his head toward Eric.

  Eric meets his curious stare. “Not your concern, I don’t think.”

  “I’ll see you in the morning, Carys.” His gaze trails over me, my skin prickling with desire.

  “Right,” I agree. He will not go to bed. He’ll retreat to the top of the stairs and find somewhere to eavesdrop. The upper level of the house has a balcony which overlooks the living area, and voices drift up. Eric is so intent on berating me, he hasn’t even considered this idea.

  After Finn disappears from the room, Eric takes the next hour to try to ‘talk sense into me.’ I counter every argument with two responses—he’s no longer my fiancée or I’m his boss. He continues to suck back the vodka and becomes less interested in turning me off Finn and more interested in turning me onto him.

  We’ve fallen into a post-breakup routine of sleeping together whenever we’re in any city but Chicago. Part of me wonders whether he flew here just to get laid. If I wasn’t so desperate to propel Finn out of my head, I wouldn’t even entertain sleeping with him tonight. He’s being an obnoxious dick who doesn’t recognize his place in my life or the organization.

  When he heads upstairs before me, I don’t tell him he can’t go to my room. When I get there, I’ll find him naked, waiting. Any other time, his presence would be a bit thrilling. Sex was never the problem between us. Rather, the sex he was having with other people behind my back. Tonight he’s a means to an end. I need a release before my sexual frustration rages out of control.