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Poppy heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”
“For the moment,” Eden added. “The longer you’re missing, the more desperate people will get. Holding her hostage to force you out of hiding is, I’m sure, going to be discussed.”
I wanted to tell Eden to shut the fuck up, to stop scaring Poppy. But all of this was true and the disservice I’d done by not thinking about the worst-case scenario, not telling Poppy about the worst-case scenario, was painfully clear.
We’d been living in make-believe in that cottage.
“So,” Eden said. “This is Ireland. It’s a little bleak, isn’t it?”
Make-believe was over.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Poppy
It was hard to keep up. Every time I closed my eyes, trying to keep the people straight in my head, I saw that poor shop girl on the floor. Her pretty hair over her face.
I would figure out who her family was and I’d tell them what happened. I’d give them money. Which was probably insulting. It was insulting. What was I going to do? How in the world could I fix this?
Without warning, I wished for my old life. The bird-in-a-cage one. At least the only person who’d gotten hurt in that life was me. I could handle that. Out here in this new world, I kept hurting people.
“Hey,” Ronan said as we pulled up in front of the cottage. We’d gone the long way, Ronan checking over his shoulder all the time to see if we were being followed. “Stay here.”
I nodded and watched him go into the cottage, gun in hand, on hyperalert.
“Jesus, he’s even hotter than I’d heard,” Eden said, sticking her head up between the seats. “It’s the accent, right? That’s a man. Have you fucked him? Because I would like to see that.”
When I looked at her, mouth agape, she winked.
“You’re taking all this life-or-death danger pretty well,” I said, my voice cracking.
“It’s kind of my natural habitat. I’m not sure what would happen to me if the heat were off.”
Ronan came back out and opened my car door, still looking around. Still so vigilant. The guy he’d been the last twenty-four hours, listening to oldies and petting cats—he was truly so gone, it was like I’d made him up.
“Come on,” he said, standing at the door. “The two of you.”
Sore, I climbed out of the car and stood there, the steel and glass of the car door between us.
“You should get in the car and drive,” I said to him. He looked at me, startled, before looking back at the horizon, scanning for threats. “This is my problem. Not yours. You should go now before it’s too late.”
“Oh, it’s already too late,” Eden said, walking into the cottage.
“She’s right,” Ronan said. “Let’s go.”
Inside, the cat was standing on the back of the chair snarling at Eden. Who was pointing her gun at it.
“Someone do something with this cat before I shoot it.”
“Shhh,” I said and grabbed Rascal who scratched and twisted in my arms until I dropped her. She ran into the bedroom, slinking under the bed.
“Tell me there’s a proper drink here.” Eden looked around, her fur coat behind her like the train on a monarch’s cape.
I’d just left this place, but it seemed foreign. Maybe it was shock.
Or maybe it was just Eden Morelli.
“How about you tell us what you know,” Ronan said. Both still had their guns in their hands, and I wondered if they were for each other or for the threat that was coming for us.
“Was it stupid coming back here?” I asked. “Aren’t we just sitting ducks? We should have kept running.”
“If you run now,” Eden said. “You’ll always be running—ah!” she cried, having found the bottle of Jameson on the counter. “There she is.” She cracked the top and pulled three teacups out of the cupboard.
Two of the teacups got a reasonable amount of whiskey and the third got quite a bit more. She handed Ronan and me the smaller doses. Ronan ignored the cup, staring at Eden until she set the cup down on the table. I guzzled mine down.
“’Atta girl,” Eden said with a wink and then tossed hers back too. She poured us each another.
“Jesus Christ,” Ronan muttered. “Can we get on with things?”
“Of course.” She lifted her teacup and drank her second shot. I left mine on the table. “Now. You might want to sit down for this.”
With weak knees, I sat. Ronan, of course, did not, so Eden sat in the chair across from me. Ronan stood with his back to the fireplace so he could look out the front and back windows.
“Why do they want me dead or alive?” I asked.
Eden sat back, her legs crossed. She pulled the fur around her like a blanket. “Well, it’s partly because of Caroline. Her pet and her monster out in the world together? That’s too tempting for the Morellis to resist.”
