Illicit Temptation (Astoria Royals #3)

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Shea

A behemoth of a man struts into the waiting room. My brothers are all tall, broad, and deadly, but this guy...

While his size utterly terrifies me, the man has the face of a god. But it’s all sharp, harsh lines. He wears a uniform similar to the guards Lachlan and Darragh met with earlier, only it’s nicer. The fabric looks rich and not faded.

“Who is that?” I whisper to Darragh.

“The warden,” he answers.

The man makes eye contact with me and it’s a soul-stroking stare like he... Like he owns me. Like he knew I’d be here. This really is the last place on earth I should be. I haven’t even seen another woman. Although, I’m sure between the medical staff and other administrators, there has to be other females.

Yet, I feel like the only one within these dirty cinderblock walls.

The warden wisely takes his scandalous eyes off me, but they land on Trace, whose jugular visibly pulses. With someone outside our circle among us, I know not to ask questions. I sit up straight, looking unaffected by this horror show of a prison run by a man who looks as if he’s hiding plenty of his own sins.

Cormac, wearing a blueish-gray jumpsuit that makes his face appear shadowed, is brought in a moment later and deposited into the warden’s authority.

Lachlan stands up and shakes the warden’s hand. A growl slips from Trace’s chest. I hop up from the table, wanting to hug Cormac, but I’m snapped back by Trace.

“Ouch,” I say, my arm feeling like it got yanked out of the socket.

All eyes land on me, and I fear Lachlan will hurt Trace until I notice him and the warden trading glares. A foul snarl ghosts my bodyguard’s lips, but he’s not on duty right now. Trace’s reaction is the pure possessiveness of a husband.

Lachlan moves to Cormac, his back going ramrod straight, his chin jutting out in defiance. Darragh takes up position alongside Lachlan. They’re whispering and arguing with the warden.

This is crazy, I feel so helpless just standing here with my brother a few feet from me. I can’t touch him. Hug him. It’s selfish, I know. Six others will smother me if I let them, and the only one I want is the one I can’t have.

Turning to Trace, I say, “Do you know the warden?”

“Aye,” he answers quickly.

With years in the Irish military and then as a security contractor for the government, Trace Quinlan has tangled with plenty of unsavory men. This one has made the hair on the back of his neck stand up and my curiosity can’t resist. “An old friend of yours?”

“Hardly.”

“Where do you know him from?”

“Nowhere. Forget you saw him.” He fidgets. “And I need to get you out of here as soon as possible.”

“What’s happening?” I turn to him, feeling like he’s my only friend.

“I don’t know.” His jaw looks so tight, it might crack. “Let me find out and—” His words are cut short when my brothers return to the table. All three of them.

“Be quick about it, Cor,” Lachlan says.

“Quick,” I say and break away to hug my brother. The tension I cut through is palpable. Something’s happened. “We can’t even sit and catch up? I have photos of JP.”

Cormac’s throat bobs, his neck tattoos dancing over the taut muscles. “It’s too painful to see my son right now. I’m sorry. ”

“What’s going on?” I ask my brothers, desperation gnawing at me.

Cormac tugs me aside. In the corner, he speaks quickly. “I’ve been accused of stealing meds.”

“What?” The room starts to spin. “When?”

“Ten fucking minutes ago.” He scrubs a hand down the back of his neck.

“Ten minutes?” I shake my head. “We’ve been here an hour.”

Cormac’s eyes bore into me. “You’ve been here an hour?”

I nod and swallow harshly.

“It’s all bullshit. I’ve lost all my visiting privileges, and starting tonight, I have to finish out my time in D-block with a new batch of fucking monsters who were just dumped here from places the guards won’t even name. I won’t get a hearing until next month.”

My heart lands in my stomach. “A hearing?”

“Aye.” He stays strong but gets closer to me. “This is not the place Kieran thinks it is anymore. It’s crawling with terrorists and nearly every guard is on the take.” He swears in Gaelic under his breath. Calling them murderers, too.

“I thought it was a private internment.”

“Not anymore, not with this charge hanging over my head.”

My eyes slip closed. “Please,” I whisper. “Can’t Lachlan talk to someone?”

“He did. He doesn’t have the same influence here. And it’s got to be killing him.” Cormac breaks a soft chuckle, dealing with this the only way he knows how I guess. Looking over my shoulder, he whispers, “What’s with you and Quinlan?”

I gasp. Our gazes lock, and I don’t want to lie to Cormac. But clearly, now is not the time for that confession. “ Nothing. Um...”

“Trace looks ready to detonate. How does Lachlan not see it?”

“His wife is having a difficult pregnancy. He brought me to a terrorist camp, Ma is...” I sniff.

“I saw her last month when she and Da got here.” Cormac shakes his head, his once swept-up golden hair like Darragh’s now shorn close to his scalp. “She looked good.”

“I can’t wait to see her.” I breathe a sigh of relief, figuring being in her homeland must be having a positive effect on her mindset and slowing down the progression of her MS. “How are you going to deal with this?”

He clears his throat. “I’m a fucking O’Rourke, Shea-Lynne. I’ll get out of here on my own if I have to.”

“Please, please be careful.” I throw my arms around him.

Just then the door opens, and two guards come forward while the warden hovers by the entrance. Looking that way, his stare wrecks me.

Cormac hisses when Malone looks at me. A menacing scowl replaces the charming smile the warden wore earlier.

What. Is. Happening?

Trace appears at my side and tucks me behind him as Cormac walks off with his head held high. Warmth surrounds me. Trace on one side. Darragh the other.

Lachlan hovers behind me, growling, “In case anyone can’t tell, I’m not fucking happy right now.”