Page 119 of Carnal Urges

Declan isn’t there. He’s not in the living room or media room, either. It takes me twenty minutes to go through the entire house, until finally I determine that I’m alone.

Except for the shadowy figures moving around the perimeter of the yard, that is.

The ones carrying the big rifles.

I slide open a glass door in the enclosed breakfast room off the kitchen. Salt air swirls in. The cold sea breeze stirs my hair. I stick my head out and call, “Hey! Hello? Over here!”

I wave an arm at the dark figure prowling along a tall hedge of privet. He pauses for a moment, looking in my direction, then lifts a hand to his ear.

“For fuck’s sake, you don’t have to get permission, Spider,” I mutter, watching him speak into his wrist.

But I guess he did, because he starts to swagger my way.

When he reaches the flagstone patio outside the doors and enters the pool of light from the sconces mounted on the walls, I smile at him.

“Captain America! How are you?”

He tries not to smile at me, but it doesn’t work. “Hullo, madam.”

“Oh god,” I say, appalled. “Please tell me Declan didn’t say you have to call me that now.”

Spider slings the rifle over his massive shoulder and grins. “Nah. Just thought I’d give you a wee fright. Knew I couldn’t do it any other way, so…” He shrugs.

He’s in a good mood. I wonder if he likes it better here at the beach than in the city?

“Well, I’m happy to see you, anyway. Is Kieran skulking around somewhere, too?”

“Aye. That was him in my ear. He says hullo. He’s up front at the gates. Another thirty of us are spread out all over the property.”

“Thirty?”

He shrugs again. “Big place. Big pores. Lots of places rats can sneak in.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Don’t worry. We’ve got it locked up tighter than a nun’s snatch. Uh, excuse the language.”

“Snatch isn’t a bad word. Bureaucracy is. By any chance, do you know where Declan went?”

He makes a face and shifts his weight from foot to foot.

“You can’t tell me. Sorry, I forgot we weren’t supposed to talk.”

Looking apologetic, he says, “It’s just, you know, business.”

I wave a hand in the air dismissively. “Oh, I know. Man stuff. The code and whatnot. By the way, I hope I didn’t get you in trouble last time. I didn’t tell Declan we talked, but he knew somehow.”

He says solemnly, “He always knows everything.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes heavenward. “Is there anything I can get you? Coffee? Brandy? It’s chilly out here.”

When he hesitates, I say, “There’s no way in hell he’ll know. He’s not even here.”

After a moment of internal debate, he says gruffly, “Coffee would be quare.”

“I don’t speak Irish. Is that a yes?”

“Aye. Thank you.”