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He knew, though, that wasn’t the only thing that occupied her sleeping brain. The nightmares were there too. How could they not be? What worried him when they were together last year, was how seldom she talked about the ordeal she’d gone through when she and her friends were kidnapped and held captive for several days.
It had been a CIA-led investigation in conjunction with MI-6 that had started the ball rolling on Aine’s capture, and it had begun when Ava witnessed an incident with her ex-boyfriend that ultimately led both agencies to discover that the twin’s father, Conor McNamara, was actually long-believed-dead arms dealer Makar Petrov.
Through the CIA, Striker had arranged for protection for Ava, but not Aine, and that was something he regretted almost every day. If only he’d done things differently, had the forethought to realize she’d be in danger too, he could’ve spared her the horrific experience.
He groaned and looked up at the ceiling. Why did everything he regretted in life have to constantly play inside his head? It wasn’t just his misguided thinking with the Petrov case. Everything he’d done that he wished he hadn’t, ran a continual loop in his brain. Was that part of the disorder? Was it a symptom that would lead to a bipolar diagnosis?
“Stop,” Aine murmured, rubbing his chest.
“Are you reading my mind?”
“It wouldn’t be hard to do.” Aine shifted so her arm was around him. “Griffin, I know you think you’re doing what’s best for me, but I’d liked to go to my sister’s for Thanksgiving. I really want to see everyone.”
Could he deny her anything when she looked at him like that? He smiled. “If that’s what you want, that’s what we’ll do.”
“Thank you,” she murmured. “But before we go, I really need a shower.”
23
Griffin had been so careful with her. He made sure her incision was completely covered, and then he showered with her. Each time she reached out to touch him, he teased that if she didn’t stop, they’d be late for dinner.
There was no logical explanation for it, but when they drove through the gate of the beach house, Aine felt a sense of impending doom. Griffin picked up on it almost immediately.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure. I just got a feeling.”
“Do you want to go back to the inn?”
Aine shook her head. “No, I want to be here.”
The feeling didn’t go away when they walked inside.
“You were supposed to let me bring dinner to you,” said Ava, meeting them at the door and glaring at Griffin.
“She insisted,” he said, looking around the room. “Where is everybody?”
“If by ‘everybody’ you mean the boys, they’re downstairs in the office.”
“Okay if I join them?” he asked Aine.
“Don’t worry. We’ll take good care of her in your absence,” Ava answered for her.
“Can I do anything to help?” she asked her sister once Griffin was headed down the staircase.
“Yes. Go sit on the sofa, and rest.”
Aine rolled her eyes. “I can do something besides sit.”
“I promised I’d take care of you. Now go, so Striker doesn’t come back up and yell at me.”
Aine nodded and did as her sister told her, mainly because Ava had her hands on her hips, which usually meant there was no point in arguing further.
“Aine!” she heard Zary shout a few minutes later when she came through the front door with Lia in her arms. She tried to get up but had only gotten as far as putting her hands on either side of herself when Ava came out of the kitchen and pushed her back down.
Zary ran over and sat between the two of them, handing the baby to Ava and then gently hugging Aine.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here,” she said. “How are you?”
