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CHAPTER NINETY-TWO
Jillian
Before Eoghan and I leave Divona, Darragh does a quick examination on me. I wasn’t physically hurt, just terrorized, and the family doctor sends me off with a clean bill of health but with an order to rest.
Griffin Quinlan, the big auburn-haired man drives us into a more commercial part of Astoria with Lachlan.
“My wife’s dance studio takes up the lower floors of the building where Eoghan lives.” Lachlan speaks casually, like that meeting didn’t take place. Shows how unrattled he is. “Feel free to go downstairs at any time to say hello to her or spend time with her.”
“That sounds nice actually.” I wonder what I’ll do for the other twenty-three hours of each day, every day.
Shane Quinlan drove Taryn back to the airport. In Vegas, they’ll return Eoghan’s rental, and drive my car back to my building. Along with any other loose ends.
“Is Taryn really going to work for you?” I whisper to Eoghan.
“He’s been loyal to Darragh for years.”
I recall the detective lingering in the courtroom a few months ago with the twin I met today.
Sighting a CVS Pharmacy ahead, I call out to Lauchlan, “Can we make a quick stop?”
Eoghan follows my gaze and tenses. “What for—”
“I have nothing. No toothbrush.”
“I have everything you need.”
“I doubt you have toiletries for women or women’s bare necessities, like underwear.” My torn thong won’t get me very far.
“You don’t need panties.” He smirks at me, and Lachlan chuckles.
“Stop the car, please,” I say, level-setting this man and his family right now that I will not be controlled. Not outside the bedroom anyway. “I’m not in danger, am I?”
“The wives all travel with guards. We have to…”
“I’ll take Taryn,” I say and can’t believe I’m going to have a bodyguard.
Like a celebrity.
Which I guess, is sort of cool.
My throat tightens, and I plead with my eyes to get out of the car.
“Pull over, Griffin,” Eoghan says. “My side, sparkles. Remember?”
“Yes, dear.” I scooch over and step onto the curb, but wobble.
“I got you.”
“You sure do.”
My hand in his, we enter the store.
It’s a medium crowd for a late afternoon. Walking among normal size men reminds me how large Eoghan is. Over six foot with broad shoulders, hulking, and brooding.
“They don’t sell actual clothes here, obviously. But I recall…” He steers me to an aisle where I can buy underwear and socks.
“My suitcase from Reno is sitting on my bed.”
