Page 29 of Carnal Urges

Which he has obviously noticed.

I pull away, my heart hammering. I sit back on my heels, my arms folded over my chest, waiting for him to do or say something. Waiting for him to tell me I’m annoying, or holler at me, or stalk out of the room and slam the door.

But he only sits there, silent.

Just as I’m about to scramble back across the bed and dive under the covers to hide in embarrassment, he says, “Thank you.”

It’s quiet. It’s also sincere. I’m relieved, but also confused, because I have zero idea what he’s thinking.

“You’re welcome.”

There’s another crackling silence. “I’m sending you home as soon as I work out the logistics.”

That surprises me. “But didn’t you want to ask me questions? Isn’t that why you went to all the trouble to get me here?”

“That was Diego’s idea.”

“Diego was your boss?”

“Aye.”

“And now Diego’s…” I hesitate to say “dead,” but he gets it anyway.

“Aye.”

“Right. I’m sorry for your loss.”

He turns his head. “Why? You didn’t know him.”

“No, but I know you.”

“What difference does that make?”

“I don’t like to see anyone suffering, even if they’re my kidnapper.”

He’s getting mad again. I can feel it. The atmosphere changes with his temper. It gets charged and ominous, the way it does with an approaching storm.

“Why does that make you angry? I’m not lying.”

He says gruffly, “I know you’re not. That’s why it makes me angry.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

He stands, puts on his shoes and coat, crosses to the door, and lets himself out, shutting it quietly behind him.

TEN

DECLAN

When I return to the living room, Kieran takes one look at my face and snorts.

“She got to ye, too, eh?”

And how.

I know he means that she got to me in the way she has that makes a man want to throw himself into a pool of sharks to escape because a quick, violent death is preferable to the slow, agonizing one caused by spending time in her company.