Page 19 of Sweet Deception (Irish Kings #4)

Chapter Sixteen

Darren leads me downstairs to the modest kitchen. Once he flips a switch, the room illuminates before us, the recessed lighting beneath cabinets and along the perimeter of the room giving the space a warm glow.

A meow from across the hall alerts us that Piro’s awake.

I head to the living room to scoop him up off the couch. When I return to the kitchen, Darren’s retrieved a laptop from somewhere and is seated at the island in the center of the room, balancing his forearms on the white granite countertop.

With a single glance, I can tell he’s not a tech person.

Tech people interact with phones, computers, and tablets like they’re extensions of our bodies, and non-tech people squint, hold tension in their shoulders, and give off the impression that they’re working too hard on the simplest of tasks.

After a few years of freelance IT security consulting for major firms, I can navigate systems easily.

I set Piro down and glide with cautious intention to the bar stool next to Darren’s. Entering the man’s personal space, even this much, sets my nerves on edge.

Seems the closer our proximity, the more I struggle to retain my focus and composure.

This is exactly why I love computers.

At least they’re predictable. They follow rules.

People…not so much.

There’s no way to predict how other humans will impact me, and vice versa.

Sitting on Darren’s right, I find myself with a front row seat to his fumbling as he pecks away at keys to join the safe house’s encrypted network, engage the VPN…

I swallow down the tickling impulse to chuckle. This is no time to be amused by this deadly mobster.

“Let me.” I reach for the laptop gingerly. “I’m good at this kind of thing.”

Darren freezes, considering me for another endless, silent moment. “I bet you are.”

My jaw tightens at his tone. It’s the same voice he used the night of that wedding reception, when he thought I was some kind of whore. Not that I hadn’t played the part…

But still. If only he knew how many CEOs trust me to protect their most sensitive data…even with me working at home as a freelancer.

If I stick out this temporary truce with Darren and get unfettered access to that computer, this could be my best chance to learn more about Lucy and the summit. Somehow, Darren knows about the gathering, and any information I can extract from him might assist me in my search.

I trust Darren not to kill me. Yet, at any rate.

Maybe I don’t look like much, but the same skills that make me valuable to legitimate clients also enable me to help women disappear.

They’re the same skills that will lead me to Lucy, if he’d only give me the damn computer.

I talk myself down from a barbed retort, lowering my hands and relaxing my shoulders and inviting in the calm I’ve cultivated so meticulously over many years of training.

“Please believe me when I say I want to leave here as soon as possible, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to ensure that happens.”

Whatever I have to say, I’ll say. And I’ll seize any opportunity to access my online accounts and see what’s going on with all the probes I put out.

The sincerity must’ve worked, because a second later, Darren rises from his seat. “Have at it.”

Relief soars through me. I stand to take it into the living room and get comfortable on the couch, but he lays a hand on it, smiling again as he shakes his head. “You’ll sit right here where I can see you.”

With a narrowed, exasperated glance, I sit back down.

As he backs away, his eyes stay on me, which only adds an irritating layer of self-consciousness to my already stressed-out state. To make matters infinitely worse, my stomach unleashes a growl you could hear on the moon.

He raises a brow as his eyes fall to my belly.

Focusing on the computer screen, I pretend it didn’t happen while I wait for a snarky remark. Instead, he glides to the kitchen counter, where shopping bags sit unopened. “It goes without saying that I’ll be monitoring you very carefully, Veronika.”

Ugh. The way he says my name…

“One wrong move?—”

“And it’s bye-bye, Veronika. I know, I know.” I mutter under my breath the way I used to in fits of petulance as a child, just before my grandmother reprimanded me.

I start working while my thoughts drift elsewhere. So, after Darren locked me upstairs, he went…grocery shopping?

I peer over at him and watch in amazement as he plucks an array of items from the bags. Protein bars, wilting convenience store vegetables, some kind of soup stock? A few things I can’t see, and then, last of all…

Cans of gourmet cat food.

The question slips out before I can stop it. “Did you really buy cat food?”

He clears his throat but neither answers me nor looks my way as he hooks his finger through the metal tab on one of the cans and dumps the contents onto a glass plate. He sets the saucer on the floor nice and easy. His careful movements are at total odds with his normal, barely contained energy.

This is the same guy who threatened to kill us all—including Piro—if I didn’t answer his questions?

Piro immediately abandons my ankles for the food.

This guy’s personality is as stable as a nuclear meltdown.

Can’t pin him down at all.

I sit there staring at him for so long, our eyes meet again.

Darren glimpses away first, jaw tight—and that proves to me that he’s probably the kind of person who’d rather be caught dead than show tenderness toward someone or something…

I bite back a smile and return my gaze to the laptop screen.

“He needs water, too, please,” I say without glancing up.

A moment passes. Another.

Then, the kitchen tap runs.

I keep my eyes firmly on my work, but warmth blooms in my chest at the quiet sound of a ceramic bowl tapping the tile.

But this warmth is dangerous…and this man even more so.

The only way to stay safe is to be alone.

I force myself to pay attention to the task at hand, but I can’t ignore Darren’s sweet little murmurs to Piro as he crouches and strokes his back.

My stomach gurgles again, reminding me of my own horrible reality.

Darren straightens up, like the noise was a wake-up call for him too.

He gets the rest of the groceries splayed out on the counter and busies himself…making soup. And sandwiches. In the middle of the night.

Any anger I have left morphs into focus as I work my magic on the dark web, striving to learn all I can about the summit tied to this modeling agency front.

Darren isn’t quite peering over my shoulder, but he’s close enough to see the screen at any given time.

And the way the atmosphere in here shifts whenever he passes by me—and our orbits touch—has my neck growing hot.

A well-fed Piro returns to my ankles, purring.

And an idea strikes.

How to get a few seconds reprieve from Darren’s watchful presence…

I stand and scoop Piro up into my arms, scratching behind his left ear with my pointer finger.

Darren’s head whips around. “What are you doing?”

“Piro needs to use the facilities.”

That disarming and slightly chilling grin slides across Darren’s handsome face. “Sit, princess. I’ll let him out.”

“He can’t go alone.” I pitch my voice higher to feign anxiety. It doesn’t take all that much effort. “He doesn’t know this place.”

Darren stares at me, then shakes his head.

He strides out of the kitchen, through the dining room, and into the foyer, and I follow close behind. We both gaze at the locks on the front door, another dead bolt that requires a key. All the windows are similarly locked and barred.

Whatever shall we do? I try to keep the smug anticipation off my face.

“I’ll take him out back,” Darren says, shifting to me.

He extends one of his big hands, and after several seconds, I realize he expects me to pass Piro over. With internal struggle at play, I gently place my baby in this killer’s hands.

He sets Piro on the ground as he spins around and walks down the hallway. I’m once again amazed by how my kitty follows him, happy as a clam.

I tag behind to get back to the kitchen.

Once they’re out of sight and the back door opens and closes, I zip back to my post at the island. As quickly as I can, I log into my cloud account and check on the decryption process I left running before I fled my apartment several hours ago.

It’s still not done. Damn.

I tab through my work email and discover several new security audit requests from my clients. I mark myself as temporarily unavailable for new jobs. My clients will have to wait.

When the squeal of the back door opening carries into the kitchen, I log out of everything and return to my search for information on the summit. A moment later, Darren and Piro enter the kitchen.

I expect my captor to get straight back to his cooking efforts, but instead, he plants himself behind me while he hovers over my shoulder. “Find anything?”

Bozhe moy , his scent, his heat, his voice… It yanks me right back to the night we met. “Not much yet.”

Thankfully, he accepts that and returns to his culinary exploits. I really am starving. I’m going to start gnawing on the countertop if he doesn’t whip up something soon.

One long hour later, Darren comes back to the island with two bowls on top of plates. Homemade vegetable soup and turkey sandwiches that appear surprisingly gourmet.

I’m not in any position to be picky, so I dig in. Wow, Darren is an excellent cook. And it’s not just the starvation talking. This…is really delicious. Food someone would pay to eat somewhere.

Not that I’m going to confess that.

He sits beside me as we dine in silence.

I continue to peruse the dark web, scouring through sketchy chat rooms and underground forums for any clues about the summit.

This is how I found out about the Gallagher wedding, so I know there has to be chatter somewhere.

But compared to this event, finding info on the double wedding was a piece of cake.

Together, we munch, slurp, and search, his shoulder next to mine. Even after we’ve cleaned our plates and he’s cleared them, Darren comes back to sit beside me.

I want to tell him to leave or busy himself doing something else because his proximity is too difficult to ignore and robs me of my concentration. But I clamp my mouth shut and let my fingers type and toggle around for dear life instead.

Darren and I lock side glances more than once, stirring up that electric tension between us. We’re close enough to kiss, and I’m scared of what might happen if he doesn’t find something better to do—and quick.

This unwanted attraction we share…the truths and lies and suspicion… it’s all taking a toll. We’re both desperately trying to gauge how much the other one knows while beating back our mutual attraction. The situation is enough to exhaust anyone.

Eyes stinging from fatigue and tunnel vision, I finally come to a message in a forum with attached images. I hunted for mentions of the modeling agency, and it brought up a familiar thread that I’ve already combed through several times.

I know there’s nothing I haven’t already seen, but when I click on an image and Lucy’s face pops up, it’s like a kick in the solar plexus by a moose.

My hands shake as I slam the laptop closed and slide off my stool in the same motion.

“That’s enough for tonight.” Before Darren can ask, I’m across the room. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”