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“No,” her father said. “Clearly not if she’s fraternizing with suspects.”
“Sersh has been here with us for days. Have you seen Ire?”
“They could be talking on the phone or by video. They do that now. The video.”
“Yeah, but why would Ire give a shit? If he was with Sersh when it happened, he’s not our guy.”
“Just because he didn’t pull the trigger himself doesn’t mean he didn’t order one of his people to do it.”
Great. Maybe admitting to being with Connel wasn’t the saving grace she thought it would be. Her father only seemed more determined to tar him after learning about their affair.
She pushed the cord into the bottom of her phone. It would charge overnight. Her purse and laptop were in there with her, but how could she work?
People arrived and her father barked orders at them. Everyone was going to feel his wrath while this plagued him. What could she say that would make him feel better? Nothing. Whatever she said would only upset him.
She changed into her dark gray, cami nightdress and folded back the covers of her bed. With all the activity, would she be able to sleep? She’d slept before. By accident.
Sitting down, she tucked her feet under the covers, but wrapped her arms around her pulled up knees. Lachlan was hurt. And he didn’t deserve her betrayal on top of everything else. Maybe under normal circumstances, he’d understand someone falling for an unexpected partner. But he’d just dealt with his ex falling for an unexpected guy, they’d lost their grandfather, her father was having a meltdown, and it was on her brother’s head.
Resting her temple on her knees, she wanted to switch off. If it was her choice, she’d talk to her brother. Apologize again. Try to make him see she hadn’t meant to hurt him; she hadn’t wanted to hurt him.
Did intentions matter?
Lachlan hadn’t factored much in her decision making when Connel was kissing her. Her family. She hadn’t wanted the video out there because her and Connel’s intimacy could hurt their careers. What had changed? Nothing. Yet she hadn’t hesitated to walk into the precinct and blow up all their lives.
“No!” Her father’s shout was so abrupt, she lifted her head. “No! You people out of here! None of you are welcome here!”
“McLeod.”
That calm lilt, that knowing… that accent.
Shit.
Leaping off the bed, she ran to the door and threw it open so fast it almost ricocheted back on her. It stopped on her flat hand with the same thud she felt when Connel’s eyes met hers.
“None of you were invited!”
“They’re always invited,” she said to her father, her eyes still locked on Connel.
“No! This is ridiculous,” her father exclaimed, his people crowding around him.
Connel’s people were behind him too. At the front door, Niall, Daly, Strat, even Hock and Snuff made the trip. And shit if Razer McDade wasn’t right there too. Her two lives couldn’t co-exist like this.
Why had he come? Why was…?
Ignoring her father, Connel passed him by. Those loyal to the McDades got in the way, working crowd control when her dad tried to follow.
Why was she nervous? Her throat shook with every determined step Connel took toward her. There was purpose, resolve, in his marching gait.
When he got to her, she inhaled, swaying back just a little as his hands rose to her jaw. “Cushla Machree,” he murmured, descending to plant his mouth on hers.
The slick heat of his devouring kiss gave her the needed reprieve. Losing herself in the motion, she let him angle her head, to push closer, to comb his fingers into her hair around the back of her head, holding her there, surrendered to him.
She could’ve stayed there, in that union, until the end of time. As usual, it was Connel who led. When he broke their kiss, she could only breathe into the air he’d left her lips hanging in. He kissed her again, just a brief touch of acknowledgment. Somehow, he was loathed to leave the moment too.
When he turned toward the others, his stance was as bold as if he were in his own office.
“Have you made progress?” he asked, scanning the corner where their investigation information was spread out and pinned up.
