Shiver of Fear (20 page)

“Then where do you think we should go?”

In his uninjured hand, he held a cell phone and a room key. “Anywhere we want. This is a master.” He nudged
her to the door. “We’ll go to the fourth floor, get our stuff, and find an empty room. We have to move fast.”

She followed him into the hall and to the elevator, instinctively knowing by the fact that he drew his gun and kept it at
the ready that it wasn’t the time for questions, complaints, or demands.

Thankfully, the hall was empty. At room 412, he used the master and they slipped inside, wordlessly gathering their belongings.
In under two minutes, they had their bags zipped and were out the door, headed back down the hall.

“Best bet is right by the ice machine and side door,” Marc said. “Gives us easy access and it’s the last room they generally
book on a floor.”

“You know this how?”

He barely smiled, hustling in that direction. “I’m guessing.”

No one answered their knock at 435, the room next to the ice and exit. Marc unlocked the door and peeked in, closing it silently.
“Suitcase and shoes. Move on.”

Directly across the hall, he tried 434, then nudged her in. “No one’s coming in here tonight.”

Inside, the king-size bed was stripped bare and a second dresser blocked the middle of the room. “They’re using it for storage,”
she said.

“And we’re using it for tonight.”

Tonight?

But she held the argument inside for the moment. “What if they electronically change the locks?” she asked.

“When we leave, we’re not coming back.”

Because
we are
going to Enniskillen
. She held back
the words, letting go of her suitcase and slicing him with a demanding look. She’d kept her questions in long enough. “You
need to tell me what the hell’s going on, Marc.”

“You say that like I know.” He threw his bag on the bare mattress and checked out the rest of the room, shaking his hand again.

“I think I have something for that,” she said, turning to her suitcase. “Let me dig it out.”

“It’s not serious.” He was already moving around the room at warp speed, closing the room-darkening drapes to cut out what
little light there was, then grabbing a towel to stuff in front of the door. “No lights,” he said in a whisper. “We don’t
want to alert a sharp housekeeper. No sound, no running water, no nothing.”

“For how long?”

“For as long as I say.”

Irritation made her squeeze the tube of aloe she’d found. She was trapped with him. He had the keys to the car; he called
the shots—he had the power.

Finished setting up the room, he sat next to her on the bed. “Whatever you have, I hope it’s strong.”

“It’ll help,” she said, taking his hand and giving her eyes a second to get used to the darkness. “How did you get a master
key?”

“How did our mystery man get it is a better question. My guess would be the hotel staff is easily bribed.”

“What happened?”

He sucked in a hiss when she dabbed white cream on the festering burn. “He got a call informing him we’d moved, so I got him
in the stairway.”

She rubbed gently over the wound, holding his hand
with both of hers, aware of his eyes on her. “Looks more like he got you.”

He puffed a breath. “He’s in worse shape. He said he was sent here—wouldn’t tell me who, if he even knew—to deliver a message
to you.”

“Don’t tell me. Leave Belfast.”

“Bingo.” With his other hand, he tipped her chin up, forcing her attention off his burn and on him. “That doesn’t mean leave
Belfast and go where they sent you.”

“We don’t know who ‘they’ are, Marc.”

“
They
aren’t good. You need résumés?”

“Then why did the FBI send you here with the same mission?” she countered. “Maybe some of them are good.” Like her mother.
Maybe.

“To be perfectly honest, the FBI, per se, didn’t actually send me here.”

She inched back, her jaw loose as this fact landed on her heart and in her head. “What? You lied about that, too?”

“You say that like I’m a pathological liar. The FBI allegedly sent me here, but the directive was given by one man, and one
man alone. He was clear we weren’t supposed to discuss the assignment with anyone else in his office, and frankly, back then,
I didn’t have much reason to question it.”

“Really? I’d question it.”

“Considering who’s involved, I didn’t.”

At first she didn’t understand the comment, then his meaning became clear. “Finn MacCauley,” she said.

“Yep. When we got the job of getting you out of here, I assumed it had something—I honestly don’t know what—to do with them
bringing him in. I figured the agent was being cautious because getting a fugitive of his caliber has
to be a very high priority for the FBI, despite him saying it wasn’t.”

A fugitive of his caliber
. She tamped down the sensation those words sent through her. “And now what do you think?”

He blew out a breath loaded with frustration and, no doubt, pain he was trying to act like he didn’t feel.
Join the party, pal.

“I don’t know what to think, Devyn.”

“What I know is it doesn’t make sense to hole up in here all night when we have a place to go and try to find out,” she said.
“Enniskillen. When do we leave?”

He released his hand from her grip and cupped her face. “Impulsive and relentless is a very dangerous combination.”

She shook out of his touch, standing for some measure of power to make her argument. “I am not being impulsive. I’ve followed
every move you suggested for the last hour. Day.
More
. Now I want to go, which is exactly what your original goal was with me anyway. Why can’t we leave?”

“I’m not sure we’d get through the lobby without being shot.”

She closed her eyes and let him pull her back to the bed. He was right, and she hated that.

“It’s true getting you out of Belfast was my original assignment,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder to make her face
him. “But everything’s changed. I need to protect you, first and foremost.” She opened her mouth to argue, and he placed a
single finger on her lips. “And,” he added emphatically, “I promised you some answers about your mother. Let me do that. Please.”

She saw something then in his eyes, something more
than determination to get the job done. Could he be genuinely concerned for her? Just then her belly grumbled in protest,
and hunger. “I don’t suppose you grabbed a minibar key when you got that room key.”

He smiled. “No, but I’ll break the lock for you and we can dine on peanuts and candy.”

“And Guinness.” They said it at the same time, and she smiled. “I’ll share one with you.”

While he used muscle and a sharp tool on his keychain to break open the minibar, Devyn moved to the far corner of the window,
squinting out a tiny crack to see outside. Night had fallen, but four stories down was the large balcony of the ballroom,
where she saw wedding guests gathering.

She turned at the pop of a bottle top, and the prospect of food and drink.

There were no chairs in the room, just the extra dresser and bare bed, so she met him on the mattress and they settled next
to each other, eating and drinking in silence.

“So you think she’s been following you your whole life?” he asked, the question squeezing her heart because it was unexpected—and
all she really wanted to talk about.

“I have to wonder,” she admitted. “She had a picture of me on a bike at thirteen, and another almost five years later. Both
taken from a distance. I wonder if she’s been visiting Boston and watching me.” The thought stabbed her with longing.

Was that what she really wanted? For Sharon Greenberg to secretly care about her? To love her, even from afar?

“Or if Finn has and sent her the pictures.”

Oh, God.
“I never thought of that.” Because she never
wanted
to think of that.

“They could still be in touch, Devyn. For all we know, they could be close. Together, still.”

No, it wasn’t possible. “I always imagined she had nothing to do with him. You know, like he was a one-night stand. A big
mistake in an otherwise well-lived life. I mean, she has a legitimate job, and she was married, but only briefly.”

“This is just making you want to find her more, isn’t it?”

She handed him the rest of the beer, disinterested in the bitter ale. “Yes. So stop eating and do whatever it is you have
to do to get the information you want.”

He didn’t argue but moved away, silently taking out his laptop, firing it up, and clicking away.

“I’ve sent a request to the Guardian Angelinos for assistance. Now let’s find out where Enniskillen is.”

She watched him work, letting her thoughts roam to places she had been effectively refusing to go.

She wanted to kiss him again.

Or did she just want comfort and connection? Warmth. He made her warm, and not just in the obvious way. He made her feel so—

“It’s a few hours’ drive, a straight shot on a few main highways.”

“What kind of town is it?”

“Small. An island in a lake, it appears. Historic. Nothing that screams ‘terrorism.’ ”

She swallowed hard. “Is that what you think this is about?”

He hesitated, considering his response. “I don’t think she’s making Botox to treat the wrinkled women of Northern Ireland.”

His tone said it all.
You can’t ignore the obvious anymore
.

“Let’s stay here until I get some word from Boston on the town, and on Padraig Fallon. I’ve asked my sister, Chessie, to do
some digging, and she’s a freak on the computer. There isn’t a database in the world she can’t hack, so let’s just wait for
a while until we know more, okay?”

“Then we’ll go?”

He came back around to join her against the backboard. “I have to figure out a way to get us out of here safely.”

She nodded as his weight shifted the mattress, making her roll a few inches closer.

“In the meantime, you should rest.” He eased her head down to his chest. “I can be the pillow.”

She let him comfort her and nestled under his arm. It felt good and right and warm.

“Just rest, Dev.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Watch you rest.”

She smiled against the cotton of his shirt, the hardness of his muscle pressing her cheek. “You’re doing it again,” she whispered.

“Calling you Dev?”

“Being sweet.”

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

He chuckled, stroking her hair lightly. “We’ll figure it all out,” he said, his voice low and reassuring, his touch absolutely
magical.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she said. “I’m not sure I want to know all about my mother.”

“You’re going to pretty extreme lengths to find out something you don’t want to know, then.”

She sighed. “I have to know, don’t I? And I can’t help
if I harbor hopes of something… better than what I suspect she is.”

“What she is doesn’t affect who you are,” he said.

So easy for someone like him to say that. “Then you are discounting the power of DNA.”

“If she’s a criminal, that doesn’t make you one.” His hand stroked her cheek and rested under her chin, lifting her face toward
his. “You are obviously nothing like her.”

But he didn’t know that. More important, she didn’t know that. But she didn’t want to argue or plant the seeds for him to
think the things that had plagued her for so long. What was she?
Who
was she? Who could possibly want her with that bloodline?

Joshua hadn’t.

But Joshua was dead. And she was alive and in the arms of someone… someone kind of amazing.

“What are you thinking, looking at me like that?” he asked, the hint of a smile pulling his lips.

“I’m thinking…”
That I never met anyone quite like you
. “That you are very good at curbing my impulses.”

“That’s a shame.” He glided his thumb along her lower lip. “Because I was kind of hoping you’d have the impulse to kiss me
right now.”

“I do,” she admitted. “And I think I should fight it.”

He nodded slowly. “It’s a bad idea,” he said. “Complicated.”

“Stupid.”

“Rash.”

“Impulsive.”

She waited for his comeback, but he kissed her hair, pressing his lips to her forehead with restrained pressure, like it was
all he could do, so it would have to be enough.

But it wasn’t. Unable to stop herself, she lifted her face so that his mouth met her cheek. He kissed again, this time on
her lips.

Or she kissed him. It didn’t matter, because her eyes stayed closed and she just gave in to the bone-deep pleasure of connecting
mouth to mouth, of sliding her hand over his chest to pull him into her, of blocking out everything except the sweet, sweet
sensation of…

His tongue. He curled it against hers, eliciting a soft moan from her throat, easing her against him at the same time, scooting
down so they were lined up on the mattress.

“Marc,” she moaned into his mouth, knowing she had to stop.

She would stop. In a minute.

He answered by deepening the kiss, opening his mouth, and wrapping her in his arms so securely she felt like she could never
fall.

And that feeling gave way to something else, something sharper and needier. Like fire licking at her skin, burning, making
her take her leg over his. He stroked her back, dragging his hand over her hip, over her backside, urging her onto him.

Her thigh pressed against his erection, and she heard him suck in a breath, then release a soft moan and her name as he suckled
her throat and collarbone, pulling her body over his, taking them to the most natural position.

Natural. Thrilling. And wrong.

But nothing felt wrong about this, Devyn rationalized, arching just enough for her hips to rock against him, for his hard-on
to roll against her crotch, for everything in her to invite him to go further.

With his hand behind her head, he pulled her into him
for another kiss, rolling her over, changing their position in one fast move, taking the top, taking control.