Page 7

Chapter Six

Carys

I ’m in my office, behind my desk, a pantsuit on, hair tied back in a messy bun. All business in here. Professional. What he said earlier doesn’t matter because I don’t want to sleep with him either. I didn’t wander down the stairs in Eric’s shirt, fantasizing about what it would be like to have Finn rip the buttons off me and fuck me on the counter in my kitchen. Nope. Didn’t cross my mind. Not even once.

God. I slept with Eric to unwind me, make these residual emotions easier. Instead I spent the night with him, lost in thoughts of Finn. Eric’s lips, close to my ear murmuring about how wet I was, how good I felt, made me want to scream, and not in a good way. Eventually I had to tell him to shut up before he ruined the mood. And by mood, I mean the fantasies in my head his voice kept destroying. I wanted to shut my eyes and dream of Ireland.

Turns out I’m a forty-five-year-old woman still addicted to the danger that’s about to walk into my office any minute. I asked Lena to bring him to me so we could go over places to live. No extradition treaties. Isolationist, or not overly friendly with the USA, would be best. It’s a small list.

Knuckles rap on the outside of the door before Finn opens it with his fingertips. I rise behind the desk as he saunters in. As he eases into the chair across from me, I sink into mine.

“What have you got?” he says.

Picking up the sheet in front of me, I double-check it before sliding it toward him. He looks good since he took those drugs earlier. Better coloring. More relaxed. Probably the opposite of what he sees in me right now.

“This is it?” He waves the list at me, frowning. “Cuba, Switzerland, Russia, and Iran?”

“There’s Iceland too.” I frown. Did I forget to add it?

“Saw that. Any place with the word ‘ice’ in the name is an automatic no.” He eases deeper into the chair. “I guess I’m staying here.”

I clear my throat and point at the paper. “As you can see, I also outlined Switzerland as the most expensive option.”

“You’re telling me I’m too poor to live here?” Finn’s flinty gaze bores into me.

“Maybe?” I shrug and shift in my seat. “I don’t know what your finances are like. You were vague earlier.”

“I can fucking afford to live in Switzerland if I want.”

“Without having to work? I don’t know if you saw—”

“Yes. I can read. Cuba and Russia are the cheapest options. Russia is the best at bucking extradition requests and for a higher quality of life. Your five hundred graphs and charts are clear.”

“Oh, good.” I sit up straighter, cross my legs, and rock back into my chair. “ Privyet to Russia, then?”

“Not a chance. Russians are snakes in the grass. I’m not going there.”

“The Volkovs aren’t even real Russians. That’d be like calling you and Lorcan Irish.”

“We are Irish.”

I laugh and run my hand along my brow. “Staying in Switzerland isn’t a good idea for you.”

“The country is big enough for you to visit this place and for me to live in another city.” Finn slides the paper across the desk. “From what I’ve seen, I’ll enjoy settling here.”

“You’ve seen the inside of my house and the Swiss landscape in the dark. Unless you somehow saw through your eyelids when you were unconscious.”

“You told me to pick. I picked.”

The phone on my desk rings, and I jump.

Finn smirks. “You’re still wound tight. Eric must not have done his job last night.”

My cheeks flame as I lift the phone and hold the receiver to my ear. “Carys Van de Berg.”

“A package got delivered for you at the front of the chalet. What do you want me to do with it?” Jay’s voice lumbers along the internal line.

“Can you tell who it’s from?”

“No address other than yours. Kinda a medium-sized box.”

I glance at Finn who is scanning my face with an intensity I’m not sure I like.

“Don’t open it. I’ll come look.” With the receiver back on the cradle, I rise from behind my desk. “I need to take care of something. Consider Russia or Cuba. Seriously. Switzerland is expensive as a long-term solution.”

He’s frozen in his seat. “Why are you worried about a package delivered to the front of the house?”

“Not worried,” I say. “Just cautious. I called in favors to get you lifted. People can be overeager to cash those.”

His eyes narrow, and he heaves himself out of the chair with a grunt. “I’m coming to see this package.”

“It’s not something you need to worry about.”

As I come around the desk, he slides across the chairs quicker than his injuries should allow. His bulky, broad body partially blocks my hasty exit.

“You thought that was a suggestion.” He clicks his tongue, his ice-cold gaze connecting with mine. “You saved my life, or maybe just my sanity this time. Either way—anyone who comes after you, gets me.”

“Mess with the bull and you’ll get the horns?” I smile.

My heart races out of control at the heat radiating off his body. His familiar spicy scent drifts toward me. Eric did not do his job last night. Not even close.

“You’re the bull? I’m the horns?” He smirks.

Oh, God. Horns. Long, hard horns.

He closes the space between us. My pulse threatens to explode out of my neck.

“A wolf doesn’t always need to pretend to be a sheep,” he says as his fingers touch the spot on my throat where my pulse flutters, his favorite place to caress, the pads gentle against my skin. Then, he balls his hand into a fist and jams it in his pocket. “Sometimes being a wolf is enough.”

“You can sense fear?” I reply.

We make eye contact, the connection searing in its intensity.

“Among other things.” The words drop between us, a threat, a promise. Me. Him. Against the wall, on the floor, in a bed, everywhere, anywhere. Desire hums, a current, poised to electrocute us both.

I swallow and take a wide berth around him, careful we don’t touch. As I do, I glance down, and Finn’s hand is flexing in his pocket. A single step toward him and we’d both cave, give in, fuse. My body is waging war on my head.

When I get to the door, I turn back to him. He’s only half facing me, focused on the wall, his jaw tight with tension.

“Are you coming?” I say.

He raises his eyebrows, a mixture of amusement and annoyance clear on his features.

“Now you want me to come? Could you be any more fucking confusing?”

“When did I say I wanted you to come?” At his expression of disbelief, I give him a sly smile. “I was simply saying I’ll allow you to come.”

Finn chuckles as he ambles toward me. “Allow me?” He rakes his gaze over me, amusement winning out. “Doesn’t work that way.”

“If you follow me,” I say, going out the door. “I think it does.”

His chuckle warms my chest and spirals to other areas. A grin splits my face as I lead the way to the front door. We don’t take long to reach the entrance, and Finn stays behind me the whole time, which is both thrilling and unsettling.

“Where is it?” I ask Jay as soon as I catch sight of him in the entryway.

“Left it outside.”

“Good.” I open the huge wooden door to find a small, wide package off to the right.

I don’t need to check to know Finn is behind me, just beyond my shoulder.

“Why didn’t you let Jay open it?” His voice is gruff.

“He’s got a family.” I squat to pick it up and head toward the driveway, away from the house.

“He’s your bodyguard. This is his job. What the fuck do you think is in there?” Finn’s footsteps are heavy on the driveway.

“I don’t know. But he’s got kids, a wife.”

“And you’ve got a whole company full of people depending on you.” His hand comes around the side of my body and snatches the package away.

“Finn—don’t—” But I’m too late. He’s ripped the packaging off and yanked back the cardboard.

Inside is the same thing I’ve been getting for a couple weeks now. An old-fashioned alarm clock lets off a shrill ring as soon as the parcel opens. Scrawled across the face are the words time is ticking .

He takes the clock out of the box and cradles it in his hand, tossing it into the air. “This some kind of warning?”

When I don’t answer, he hurls the clock at the garage door. It bounces off the metal and shatters on the concrete driveway.

“Who is this and what’d you promise them?”

I take a deep breath, willing my heart to return to normal. The box always holds an alarm clock, but each time I wonder if it’ll be a bomb. “The FBI mole.”

Finn squints at me and shakes his head. “An alarm clock? What’s the ticking for? What’s he want?”

“Money. A lot of money.” I shrug. “I paid him already, or I believe I did. The transaction was through a third party. He could be trying to get more, or the cash got held up on the way to him.”

“Either way, an FBI dickhead doesn’t threaten you. Fucking amateur. You don’t send a piece-of-shit alarm clock. You find the thing that matters most, and you dangle it over a ledge.” His quick, angry strides toward the house are the smoothest I’ve seen him so far. Rage looks good on him.

“Finn,” I call, following him. “You can’t get involved. You need to keep a low profile.”

He turns on me. “Do you know where this guy is?”

“He’s in Russia, but—”

“Perfect. We can put this dog down.”

“Finn.”

“Why’d you want to open it instead of Jay?”

“I told you why.”

“Which means every time one of these arrives, you think it could be a bomb.”

I purse my lips and don’t answer him. My hand flutters to my hair.

His hard gaze softens. “We go to Russia. We put the agent in his place. I’ll help you figure out the warehouse theft. When we’re done there, I’ll stay behind, get out of your way, let you live your life free of me and my bullshit.”

At his words, a flood of mixed emotions rushes over me, and I’m not sure which to address first. Sadness. Anger. Uncertainty. “I don’t want to kill anyone. That’s not how I work.”

He breaks eye contact with me, and one side of his mouth quirks up. “You won’t have to kill anyone.” Shifting away from me, he heads into the house. Just before he opens the heavy door, he calls back, “I’ll do it for you. People don’t fuck with you and live. Not while I’m around.”