Page 12

CHAPTER

THIRTEEN

The badge hits the table, and my world tilts sideways.

"Special Agent Sorcha Quinn, Federal Bureau of Investigation."

I pick up the cold metal, turn it over in my hands. The woman who saved my life tonight. The federal rat who's been playing me for weeks.

"You lying bitch."

She backs against the wall, hands raised. Smart move. I cross the room in three steps, slam my palms against the wood on either side of her head. Cage her in.

"How long?" My voice comes out rough, dangerous.

"Eamon—"

"How fucking long have you been gathering evidence against my family?"

Her gray eyes don't waver. "Three weeks."

"Three weeks of lies. Three weeks of you spreading your legs while planning to destroy us."

Color floods her cheeks. "That's not what this was."

"No? Then what was it, Agent Quinn?" I lean closer, my body pressing hers against the wall. "Professional duty? Taking one for the team?"

"The mission had nothing to do with sleeping with you."

"But you did it anyway."

"Yes."

Her honesty hits harder than any lie would. I grab her wrists, pin them above her head with one hand. Feel her pulse racing under my thumb.

"You know what we do to rats in my world?"

"Kill them."

"After we make them suffer." My free hand traces her jaw, deceptively gentle. "You've seen what these hands can do, haven't you?"

She shivers but meets my gaze. "You won't hurt me."

"Why not?"

"Because you care about me. Despite everything."

The truth cuts deep. I want to snap her neck. Want to fuck her against this wall. Want to make her disappear forever. Want to keep her here where I can protect her.

"Tell me about your assignment," I growl. "All of it."

"FBI sent me after Agent Henderson went missing. My handler is Riordan Byrne. Target is RICO charges against your family."

"What evidence do you have?"

"Photos. Audio recordings. Financial records."

My grip tightens on her wrists. "Recordings of what?"

"Conversations at the pub. Some with you."

Every late-night talk. Every moment I thought we connected. All recorded for prosecutors.

"Where are they now?"

"Encrypted servers. Byrne has access."

I release her wrists, step back before I do something we'll both regret. Or enjoy too much.

"What about the wire you were supposed to wear?"

"I couldn't do it."

"Why?"

She rubs her wrists where I held her. Red marks bloom on pale skin. "Because I started caring about the people I was supposed to betray."

"Caring." I taste the word. "Is that what you call it?"

"What would you call it?"

I move back into her space, cup her face with both hands. Rough enough to remind her who's in control.

"I'd call it getting your heart tangled up with the enemy."

"You're not my enemy."

"I should be."

Her breath catches as my thumb traces her lower lip. "But you're not."

The air between us crackles with heat and danger. I should kill her. Instead, I want to claim her all over again. Mark her so deep she forgets which side she's supposed to be on.

"There's more," she whispers.

"What?"

She reaches into her jacket, moves careful and slow. Pulls out a folded paper.

"I found this in the surveillance van. Communication between Byrne and the Moran organization."

I take the document, scan the contents. My blood turns to ice.

"Your handler's been feeding information to our enemies."

"Meeting times. Security details. Everything we discussed in planning."

"How long?"

"Eight months, based on these timestamps."

I crush the paper in my fist. Henderson's disappearance. The precision attacks on our territory. The way Moran always seemed one step ahead.

"Byrne set us up."

"And used me to do it."

I look at her – really look. Federal agent. My family's enemy. The woman who fell apart in my arms last night. All of it true at once.

"Your mission is fucked."

"Completely."

"And you've been gathering evidence for a corrupt bastard who wants my family dead."

"Yes."

"So what now, Agent Quinn?"

She straightens, chin lifting with that stubborn streak I've learned to recognize. "Now I have a choice to make."

"Which is?"

"Continue the mission and hand everything over to a corrupt handler. Or find another way."

I study her face. Looking for deception. Fear. Instead I see determination and something that looks like loyalty.

"What kind of other way?"

"The kind where we work together to expose the real criminals."

"We." I laugh, sharp and bitter. "There is no we. You're federal law enforcement. I'm Irish mob muscle. We don't team up."

"We do if we want to survive this."

She has a point. Byrne knows she's here. Knows she's gathered intelligence. If she goes back with nothing, he'll get suspicious. If she hands everything over, my family dies.

"What are you proposing?"

"I go to the scheduled check-in tomorrow. Give Byrne what he expects but hold back the evidence about his Moran connection."

"And after?"

"We find proof of the corruption. Clean up this mess."

I consider her proposal. The risks. The possibilities. The way her body fits against mine when I crowded her against the wall.

"One problem with your plan."

"What?"

"My family finds out I'm working with a fed, they'll put bullets in both of us."

"Then we don't tell them. Yet."

"You want to lie to the Kavanaghs."

"I want to protect them. Same as you."

I step closer again, drawn by forces I can't control. "And what about us?"

"Us?"

"Don't play dumb. You know what I mean."

Her eyes darken. "I don't know if there can be an us after this."

"Because of the badge?"

"Because of everything."

I trace my finger down her throat, feel her pulse jump. "Feels like there's still something here to me."

"Eamon..."

"Say my name again."

"We can't?—"

"Can't what? Can't want each other? Can't finish what we started?" I lean closer, my mouth near her ear. "Can't fuck like the world's ending around us?"

She shivers against me. "This is insane."

"Most of my life is insane. Doesn't mean it's not worth living."

I pull back to look at her. Federal agent. Betrayer. The woman who makes my blood burn.

"Here's what's going to happen," I say. "Tomorrow night, you give Byrne just enough to keep him happy. But you're mine now. My protection. My rules."

"I'm not property."

"No. You're something much more dangerous." I brush my thumb across her lips again. "You're mine by choice."

Her breath catches. "And if I choose to walk away?"

"Then you walk. But we both know you won't."

"Why?"

"Because despite the badge and the lies, you belong here now. With me."

I extend my hand to her. "Partners?"

She stares at my hand for a long moment. Then reaches out, grips it firm.

"Partners."

I don't let go. Instead, I pull her closer, until her body presses against mine again.

"New rule," I murmur against her ear. "No more lies between us. Complete honesty."

"Agreed."

"Good." I release her hand but don't step away. "Because I'm going to tell you something honest right now."

"What?"

"Finding that badge should have ended this. Should have made me hate you."

"But?"

"But all I can think about is how badly I want to fuck you against this wall until you forget you ever carried federal credentials."

Her pupils dilate. Heat flares between us despite everything.

"We shouldn't?—"

"Probably not."

"It complicates everything."

"I know."

She looks up at me, gray eyes full of want and confusion. "What are we doing, Eamon?"

"Surviving. Together."

I lean down, capture her mouth in a kiss that tastes like betrayal and need and dangerous choices. She kisses me back with desperate hunger, her hands fisting in my shirt.

When we break apart, we're both breathing hard.

"Tomorrow changes everything," she whispers.

"Tonight doesn't have to."

Her answer comes in the way she pulls me closer, choosing this moment over all the complications waiting outside these walls.

Federal agent. Irish mob enforcer. Two people who should be enemies finding something worth protecting in each other.

It might get us both killed.

But right now, it feels worth the risk.