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Chapter Five

Finn

T he sun streams in from the blinds I didn’t bother closing last night. My sleep was restless and painful, and just fucking terrible. I shoulda sucked it up and asked Carys for the drugs. That’s why I waited for her on the landing. Since the other doors were open on the second floor, I knew Eric was in her bedroom, waiting for her. Her settling for that guy is the equivalent of having someone piss on my cornflakes. I didn’t walk away from her the first time for her to end up with a guy like him.

The sun keeps hitting my eyes, and I throw my forearm across them, wishing I could will myself back to sleep. While I’m lying here, I need to figure out how to get out of this house. Being around Carys is a bomb with a lit fuse, fizzing away, getting closer and closer to exploding. My instinct is to stay, to watch it go off, to relish in the chaos and destruction.

Not this time.

I climb out of bed and grab the other set of clothes someone put on the dresser before I got here last night. My movements are slow and careful, but I get dressed as quickly as I can and amble down the stairs to see what I can find for breakfast. As I come into the main room, I suck in a deep breath filled with greasy bacon and coffee. Doesn’t get better than that. Standing at the island, meat sizzling on the grill in front of her, is Lena. Her black hair is in some kind of bun thing, and she hasn’t noticed me yet. We only met once, years ago, when Charles Van de Berg introduced us at a party, and it became clear she was playing the role of Mrs. Van de Berg, in Switzerland. Carys talked about her a lot back then—how she enjoyed Lena’s company, how her feelings were a betrayal of her mother.

“You’re still working here? You a glutton for punishment?”

Lena jumps, lets out a squeak, and touches a hand to her chest.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

I’m shoeless, and I’ve always had a tendency to approach in silence. It’s instinct.

“No, no. That’s okay.” Her smile stretches across her face, not connecting with her dark-brown eyes. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be up yet. Usually the smell has to get under her door before she’ll even open her eyelids.”

With my hands in my pockets, I saunter over to the island and ease onto a heavy wooden barstool. Carys has two paces in the morning. Up before the birds, making deals, or a cave dweller who only emerges for food.

“She’s not an early riser here?” I say.

Lena shakes her head, and she uses tongs to turn the bacon.

Glancing up at the balcony overlooking this room, I run my hand through my hair. Is he still up there? The thought turns my stomach.

“He’s gone.” Lena has her back to me as she grabs a plate from a cupboard behind her.

“That was quick.”

“Always is. He got what he came for.”

I’m sure I’ve grasped her meaning, but I say it anyway. “Which was?”

“Raise his leg to everything in sight and go home to screwing whoever he wants in Chicago.”

I snatch a piece of sizzling bacon from the pan and drop it in front of me when it burns my fingertips.

“Not a fan of Eric?”

“Are you?”

“The reason I don’t like him isn’t the reason you don’t like him.”

She raises a shaped eyebrow. “You might be surprised. Charles loves Eric, though, and I’ve heard he’s good at his job.”

“Can’t be too good if they’ve had a major theft.”

“He’s not in charge of that region,” Carys says, from behind me. “And you’re right, Lena, my father loves him. They’re very similar.”

I’m not the only one who can make a stealthy approach. Twisting in my seat, with difficulty, I catch a glimpse of her standing in the entranceway in an oversized men’s dress shirt. If it’s not his, she wants me to think it is. Her point wears thin on my patience.

“That’s what you’re wearing today?” I ask.

Lena cracks the eggs and drops them into the frying pan.

“With the right belt, it would do in a pinch.” Carys wanders over to the couches and takes a seat. The furthest spot from me she can choose.

“Lots of room at the island,” I say.

“I’m fine over here,” she replies.

I purse my lips in irritation and catch Lena smiling. “It’s not fucking funny.”

Lena’s grin widens. “It kind of is.” She flips the eggs and raises the spatula in one hand while the other perches on her cocked-out hip. “I hear you’re stuck over in this area now.”

Scowling, I snatch another slice of bacon. This time the piece isn’t too hot, and I take a big bite.

“Fucking FBI.”

“At least it’s not the CIA,” Carys says from the couch. “Domestic, not international.”

“Not in the mood for your tiptoeing through the daisies comments,” I say.

Her laughter peals through the room. “Are you ever?”

“No,” I grumble and eat more bacon.

When we were together, Carys was perpetually sunny when faced with my doom and gloom. I pretended to be annoyed by it, but her optimism was a trait I used to love. At least that hasn’t changed.

“You got any drugs?” I say.

“Oh.” She rises and saunters into the kitchen, opening a corner cupboard.

“Sorry. I completely forgot you were injured. I should have remembered because you move like an old man with arthritis.”

Lena stifles a laugh with her hand.

“I don’t look that bad.”

Carys passes me a bottle, and I check the label before popping the top. I was hoping for morphine, but whatever this is will have to do.

“Where are you going to live now?” Lena slides an egg onto a plate and then does the same a second time.

“We should go over the list I put together at some point today.” Carys takes a slice of bacon and pulls it apart with her fingertips, inserting pieces into her mouth.

Lena piles the plates with bacon, eggs, and a potato mash thing she fried in the pan. She passes a plate to me and to Carys. Mine has twice the amount of food. Normally I’d have no trouble wolfing it down, but my time in and out of hospitals has meant I haven’t been doing anything normal.

Carys stands on the other side of the wide island, eating her food in slow, meticulous bites. Watching the fork go from her plate and slide into her mouth is torture. The drugs haven’t kicked in yet, and my body aches. The tightening in my pants isn’t helping.

“Do you have access to any of your money?” she says.

Her lips close around her thumb to catch a smear of egg yolk. Her tongue swirls, and I swallow. Right now, I want to fuck her on the kitchen counter while Lena watches. I’m shit at resisting temptation, and Carys is the shiny, juicy apple. Even when the fruit is poisoned at first bite, she’s impossible to resist.

“A bit.” I sip the coffee Lena placed in front of me to wash down my pills. “Probably not enough. It’ll depend on the country. I had lots of cash on hand at the house, and I took some to the warehouse with me. Figured if I came out of there alive, I’d at least have something to help me start over.”

Carys frowns. “You didn’t arrive in Switzerland with a bag.”

“Probably still in the warehouse, with the FBI, or with whoever whisked me out. How did you get me out, anyway?”

“Paid off someone in the raid party.”

“FBI?”

“Who else would be in the raid?” She raises her eyebrows at me as the fork slides into her mouth again.

“Impressive.”

“I’ve got friends in all kinds of places.”

I smirk. “I bet you do.”

“Keep your mind out of the gutter, Finn.”

My gaze roams over her leisurely. “I hate that fucking shirt.”

“I’m making a statement.”

“Been made. Go change.”

“No.” Her amber eyes connect with mine, full of challenge. “What was it you said to me? Your voice means nothing in this house anymore.”

My lips twist in annoyance as I focus on my plate. “I shouldn’t have fucking said that, okay. I was surprised to see you at my house, meeting with my brother, talking about shit you knew nothing about.”

“Fine. But you don’t appreciate why I’m wearing this shirt.” She flicks the collar with her fingers.

“Whose is it?”

“Eric’s.”

“Then I understand exactly why you’re wearing it.”

“The shirt is comfortable.”

“Bullshit. You’re telling me to stay the fuck away. You don’t need to. I have no intention of trying to get in your pants.” I trail her body again, greedy for the curves barely outlined by the oversize button-up. “Or up your shirt. As soon as we’ve worked out the details, I’ll be out of your life again.”

She tucks her hair behind her ears and avoids eye contact. With her fingers, she takes apart another slice of bacon.

The dishes Lena’s been washing in silence clatter into the second sink. She glances over her shoulder and bites her lip.

“Sorry.”

“Want help?” I rise from my seat and bring my dish over to slide it onto the counter beside her.

When I turn around, Carys is gone.

“She’s not as tough as she seems.” Her voice is quiet beside me.

“I know,” I say. “That’s why I need to stay the hell out of her life. I blow lives up, I don’t keep them safe.”

“You’re starting over.” She plucks a dish towel from the rack beside me. “Maybe you can restart that attitude too.”

I give her a long look, searching her open, serious face.

“You’re one of those people.”

A smile touches her lips. “Those people?”

“Like Carys.”

I take my dish and place it into the dishwasher. Sliding my coffee off the island, I walk away.

“You want to see the good in people, even when it’s not there.”