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15
SIOBHAN
A stupid grin stretches over my face as I watch Finn walk out. I shouldn't be getting attached, but how can I not? He's strong and assertive, sexy as hell, knows what he wants. I'm lost in the sea of endless emotions and people pulling me in every direction, but when I'm with him, every cell in my body screams to be closer, to feel the pull of how he makes me feel. It's a good feeling even though I know it's wrong.
I know what kind of man Finn O'Rourke is—a killer, a criminal. Slipping my panties back on, I take my clothes and walk toward the bedroom to draw a bath and think of how twisted it is—that I made it my life’s mission to hunt men like him, and now I'm falling in love with one. Shame washes over me, but I can't help the guilty pleasure I feel when I think of him.
I stop the drain and turn on the water then slip out of my clothing, tossing my soiled clothes into the hamper and donning my silky house robe. Then I head out to the kitchen and reach for a bottle of wine and a glass, but even as I pour it, my stomach sours. I've been feeling a bit nauseated lately, extra tired too. Finn and I have been having unprotected sex, which is the last thing I should be doing with him, but dammit if the pleasure isn't so good that in the middle of it all, I can't stop to put a condom on him.
So I leave the glass of wine and grab a glass of water instead. My body still pulses with the pleasure of orgasm as I pad back into the bedroom, ready to have a long, hot soak and think about how I'm going to proceed with this case, but I hear the bell and stop. It hasn’t been long. I wonder if Finn has forgotten something, so I shut off the tap, set my water down, and rush to the door to swing it open. Only to find Liam there with his phone pressed to his ear.
"Gotta go," he snips and flashes me a smile as I step back, inviting him in.
"I was just about to have a bath, Kearney. What's going on?" I've gotten more comfortable with him lately, especially after that day where someone drove past the courthouse and shot up the steps.
I don't like to admit that I cried on a married man's shoulder as he held me and I got wine drunk, but I was scared and he was here. In that aspect, he was good to me, and I feel I owe him something.
"I'm here to check on you, Sib. I worry about you, you know?" His eyes sweep my apartment as he speaks, like he's looking for something or someone. Maybe he suspects I'm still seeing Finn. Maybe that's why he's come to check on me.
I shut the door and walk deeper into the apartment, following him. "Wine?"
"For my bath," I say, crossing my arms over my belly. "Have it. I'm feeling off." I'm not lying, either. My stomach has been roiling now and I just want a soak to help calm it. Water therapy is something I do to calm my nerves, not just relax my tense muscles.
He picks up the glass and downs it, then pours another from the bottle I left sitting on the table. Then he nods at the living room area, and I follow him reluctantly. The bath calls my name, but when Liam stops by, he usually has some sort of update for me.
"Sorry how that all went down, you know… The evidence thing. I knew it was risky, but…" His voice trails off, and he sips the glass again. I rub the back of my neck and stand next to the sofa as he stares out the picture window overlooking Dublin. Light is fading now as afternoon begins to turn to evening. I know I should get to the chemist to buy a pregnancy test, but it's looking doubtful now that a visitor has popped in.
"You said you were checking on me. I'm fine, okay? You don't have to hover like I’m your little sister." Feeling a bit annoyed, I find myself rubbing the back of my neck again. Liam's eyes shift to take me in. He downs his second glass of wine and walks toward me, setting the empty stemware on the table next to the remote.
"Here, let me," he offers, and before I can protest, he's standing behind me, firm hands kneading the muscles in my shoulders. It feels amazing, but I'm tense again now. "I get knots like these ones too, Sib."
My chest constricts and I press my eyes closed, wondering what in God's creation he's doing touching me. We don't have the sort of relationship where we do this for one another, but maybe I've led him on by what happened after the shooting. Maybe he thinks I'm more comfortable with him. I've seen the way he undresses me with his eyes, but he's got a wife.
"Liam," I protest, turning and pulling away from him. My eyes snap open and he is there with a smoldering expression. No way it's the wine this fast, so he has to have come with something on his mind and it's not something he's going to get.
"Siobhan, I think we should talk." His hand reaches for my hip, pulling me closer, against his body. His hands are firm and hard, not supple and inviting the way Finn's are. And he pulls at my robe too, trying to bare my chest to his eyes that greedily rake over my face and form.
It all happens so fast, I don't think. Liam's mouth closes on mine, forcing his tongue between my lips, hand reaching under my robe to find my flesh and grip it, and I push him away instantly. My hand flies without hesitation, clipping his cheek and chin, and he steps back, covering his reddened skin as I flounder for the ties to the robe and lash it shut again.
"Mother of Christ! Liam, what the hell is wrong with you?" The robe ties are thin and slippery, tangling around my hands, but I manage a hard knot as I back away. "What were you thinking? You have a wife at home."
I'm standing in the middle of my living room staring at him as he holds his cheek. His eyes are dark and harsh, not at all the eyes of the man I've come to call my friend. I can only see his reflection in the television, but he looks more like the monster most people believe Finn is than the detective Garda who puts men like that away.
I'm shaking now, afraid he's going to do something worse than just kiss and grope me. I've never had a reason to be afraid of Liam, though he annoys me a lot. But now, alone in my home knowing Finn won't be magically appearing again, I'm shaking.
"Siobhan, you've been seen with that O'Rourke asshole. If you don't knock it off, it's gonna come back to bite you." His voice comes out as a snarl, a threat even. When he turns to look up at me, I see the clear red fingerprints I've left and I don't even feel guilty.
"So you’ve come to molest me, have you? And you think that will somehow woo me away from seeing Finn to what? You don't own me, Kearney. You're a married man and you have no right coming into my home and doing that. Now get out." I don't know whether he’s going to listen to me or not, but I point at the door and he shakes his head.
He looks at me as if he wants to say something more. There's anger in his eyes now, maybe from being rejected, or maybe something else, but he glares at me and turns toward the door. When he gets there, he turns over his shoulder with the door standing open and says, "People are watching."
When he leaves, I rush to the door and throw every lock and deadbolt, then stand trembling as I think of what to do next. He's right. If people are watching and I'm seen out with Finn, it will ruin my career, but it doesn't have to. I don't have to let this destroy me.
Again my stomach tosses, but I scurry into my bedroom, this time going for my dirty clothes in the hamper. I go for my phone, still in the pocket of my slacks which I tossed there when I started my bath. I pull it out and dial my supervisor's number, and he picks up on the second ring.
"Director of Public Prosecutions, who's this?" Boyd's voice is stern as always, and I lean into his value for the letter of the law.
"Yes, hello, Prosecutor McVeigh, it's DPP Gallagher and I have something to discuss with you." My heart is hammering. I think I may throw up while still on this call, but I manage to swallow the bile and suck in a breath to calm my nerves.
"Yes, hello, Gallagher. How goes the case?" I hear the noise of the train in the background. He's on his commute home, so I've caught him at a decent time. I know his office lines are recorded for evidentiary purposes, but his cell is usually untapped.
"Mr. McVeigh, if I can speak with you frankly." I'm never so forward with him. He's my boss, but this isn't something to mince words about. I'm talking about my entire future in law.
"Yes, of course." The train conductor makes an announcement so loud I fear McVeigh won't hear me, so I wait until he's done saying what stops the train will make before I proceed. It gives me a few seconds to collect my thoughts.
"Sir, I need to make a formal announcement to you that I'm involved with Finn O'Rourke." I pause for a moment and hear only silence. "Sir, are you there?"
"I'm here," he says, sounding stiffer than normal.
"Sir, I had an opportunity so I took it. I'm working undercover. The man is wrapped around my finger and I'm hoping to gain inside knowledge about his family and the way his organization works so we can take him down. I should’ve told you sooner, but I wasn't sure it would pay off. Now I think it will." My words are rushed out, but I speak clearly without stuttering or stumbling over the facts. Just as I finish, the conductor makes another announcement, and McVeigh is forced to wait to respond.
The waiting is torture. It could go either way, but my hope is he will understand because he knows me. It's my one driving factor, to find the man responsible for Trevor's death and make him pay, and then take down the underworld systematically by myself. He's known that since I took this job or maybe even longer.
"Well, Siobhan, it's not often our prosecutors get involved in the nitty gritty, but you have a set larger than most of us. If you think you can produce accurate facts and bring forth the truth, then I applaud you. Make sure you keep a diary of your notes. Contact me the minute you have anything, and for Christ's sake, be careful. Those men are monsters. They can do anything. You really don't know."
I breathe a sigh of relief at his words and rush out, "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
"Oh, and Siobhan, I really mean that. Take care of yourself. This is a scary game you're entering." Boyd's warning is heeded. I'm nodding even though he can't see me.
"Yes, sir. I will. Thank you, sir." I hang up and sit on the edge of my bed.
Liam's threats that someone is watching, that people will find out, they scare me. I don't want to be seen as the prosecutor who may be dirty. I want a reputation beyond reproach. But I also want Finn, and that seems to be tearing me down the middle, along with a nagging fear that continues to grow every time I find myself getting queasy.
For now, my cover is safe. McVeigh believes I'm sleuthing so if Liam blows my cover, I'll have that to fall back on. And if not, at least I have that reassurance. Things just got a whole lot trickier.