Illicit Temptation (Astoria Royals #3)

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

Trace

A week later, climbing the airstairs to the O’Rourke jet, Shea loses her footing in front of me. I grab her ass out of habit, then jerk my hands away.

“My legs would work better if you didn’t rail me so hard this morning,” she murmurs over her shoulder.

With no one around, I crowd her step and say, “You figured out how to lock me in my bedroom. If you didn’t want my cock inside you so much, you have means to prevent it.”

“Jerk.”

“Oh, that mouth,” I growl. “Don’t make me jerk off, princess.”

Laughing softly, Shea continues climbing and once inside, she strolls confidently to a captain’s chair. All the muscles in her face relax. She’s surrounded by me, Lachlan, Darragh, and Balor’s guard, Denton.

Last to arrive, Balor helps Ella on board, who despite going through a horrific attack a couple of weeks ago, acts chipper. Good for her. Not letting a monster dull her shine and charm. Balor looks absolutely in love with his wife. To think I was there that night when he met her. And watched it all unfold for months while I worked for him.

All while hiding a secret from him, that I had drunk-married his sister three years earlier.

I eye the empty captain’s chair next to Shea, sizzling in my gut. I should be sitting next to her in the front of the plane where the O’Rourkes take their seats. Standing frozen, I’m reminded of my current place in their world. Shea thinks because I’m a Quinlan I enjoy certain privileges and allowances.

It’s easy to ignore how our secret will land in O’Rourke World when not one of those testosterone-fueled brothers is near us in East Hampton. Trapped in a plane with them, I’m questioning every choice I’ve made regarding their princess.

In moments like this, it’s clear I’ve overstepped, even by keeping it a secret and not letting her divorce me. But I will be on the same level with them, and it will be even more of a reason to bless our marriage. Still, I fight my annoyance at having to sit away from my wife, several rows back with Denton.

“How is Katya feeling?” Balor asks Lachlan about his pregnant wife.

She looked painfully uncomfortable at the wedding, carrying the baby of a man as big as me. All while she’s a lithe, wee thing, barely five feet.

“Not good,” Lachlan growls, practically baring his teeth. “She’s going on bed rest the moment I get home.”

I process this news as I do all information. Nothing an O’Rourke does is inconsequential. They are six pieces on a chess board I watch carefully. Seven, once we pick up Cormac.

Lachlan’s wife going on bed rest means he’ll be preoccupied for the remainder of the pregnancy. Griffin hinted several times already during our Quinlan meetings, how the enforcer is a changed man. No less dangerous, but more so, because he’s got a wife to protect. He’s not on the streets eighteen hours a day anymore.

My eyes linger on Shea napping in her chair. Christ, she’s a lovely angel who I’ve corrupted and dirtied. Fear strikes my heart that if I’m shot down by her father, and Lachlan turns on me, I’ll be banned from ever seeing her again.

She’ll likely be shipped off to Vegas where she’ll be miserable. Living in a fucking cage that I might as well have built and thrown away the key .

My heart starts pounding so hard I grip my chest thinking I’m having a coronary. Thank fuck, there’s a doctor on board.

WITH EFFORT, I COMPEL myself to put everything out of my head and get lost, listening to the mystery thriller book on my phone.

We land in a private airport in Waterford several hours later, and while taxiing, Lachlan stands up.

“Two SUVs are waiting for us,” he says, giving orders because he’s in charge right now. “Darragh and I are going right to Dunbar.”

Shea clears her throat. “And me.”

“And that means me,” I say to reinforce my commitment to protect her.

“I’d prefer to drop you off at the house.” Lachlan tries to pull a fast one until the bitter end.

“Lachlan, I flew all this way to see my brother. And I’m going to see him,” my spitfire wife challenges.

“I’ve got Shea covered.” I stand up and open my jacket to show them my double gun holder and the two hand cannons tucked inside. “She’ll be safe.”

Lachlan cracks a rare approving smile that I wish I can take a photo of to show him later when he’s beating the piss out of me.

Balor, Ella, and Denton get into one SUV that drives off, heading toward the honeymoon he promised his wife. The rest of us pile into the other vehicle. Lachlan helps Shea in, and she scooches into the middle-row bench seat. Darragh climbs into the third row, and Lachlan sits next to him. That leaves the only open seat next to Shea.

With Lachlan O’Rourke right behind me.

I give Shea a look and she notices, smiling. I suspect she’s thinking all she has to do is whisper some untoward confession of how we’ve been messing around for the last two months to get anything she wants from me. All without realizing she and her brothers will be wearing pieces of my brain.

Dunbar Valley Detention Center is privately run, as many prisons are these days. Built on a five-acre lot, the main holding center is roughly thirty-thousand square feet and four stories high. It’s surrounded by beds of tall cheerful yellow flowers in stark contrast to the many rows of braided barbwire fencing and four corner watch towers, manned by guards with long, sniper rifles.

We pass the main gate after our car is inspected. Lachlan discloses we’re armed, and we’re told we’ll have to surrender our weapons at the front entrance.

My fingers itch to hold Shea’s hand. She looks utterly terrified. This place houses the worst of the worst. Prisoners of a sensitive nature the Irish government doesn’t trust to the public prison system. Cruel cartel lords who dump their traitors for punishment. It’s no longer a place to teach unruly young gangsters a lesson in pain and submission.

As far as I’m concerned, Cormac didn’t deserve to be here. A punishment he accepted with grace. But it’s not the same place Lachlan was banished to teach him discipline and how to be a heartless killing machine.

A few yards from the gate, Lachlan collects our weapons. Sighing, I hand mine over.

Inside, I take hold of Shea’s hand, not caring who sees. Lachlan immediately notices, but I nod to him, signaling it’s to keep her close to me without carrying her over my shoulder. Does he notice how easily she accepts my hand? His nod of approval only slightly relaxes me.

We walk through a tunnel and into an empty waiting room. It’s the middle of the day, and I wonder if the place was cleared out just for Cormac and the family. We’re given a table, and Shea’s sweaty palm loosens from mine .

One painful hour passes while we wait. Lachlan and Darragh go into an office to ask what’s the hold-up. I almost wish I could be there to watch someone tell Lachlan O’Rourke to sit the fuck down. One guard initially shrugs while the other does a comical doubletake at Darragh, who’s Cormac’s identical twin. Even with all the ink Cormac etched into his neck and arms, they’re unmistakable as brothers.

Finally, one of the guards makes a call, lifting an old-school black lacquer phone handset to his ear. The way Lachlan’s hands ball into fists when the guard speaks into the phone and Darragh dumps his head into his hand, I know something is wrong. They come out moments later and Lachlan looks ready to murder someone.

At least I know this time, it won’t be me.

“What’s wrong?” Shea asks.

Lachlan tosses me a furious glower. He didn’t want her here. But hey... I’m just a Quinlan bodyguard. I make no decisions. But that doesn’t mean I can’t help make matters better.

“Shall I bring her back to the car, boss?” I say to Lachlan.

“No,” Shea blurts. “What’s going on?”

Lachlan growls, “The warden insists on bringing out Cormac himself.”

Along one cinderblock wall, casement windows stretch out the entire length. I swear, it’s like it happens in slow motion. Just the shape of the shadow that creeps along the wall opposite the windows confirms my absolute worst nightmare.

Broad shoulders, thick neck, buzz cut on a bulky skull, sculpted cheekbones, and a sinister grin.

Faolan Malone. My old commander.

The man who tried to kill me is now the warden of Dunbar Valley.