going to give his boss anything more to use against him. An affair with a witness was more than enough to cost him his badge.
“Where are we going to go now?” she asked.
“Back to Boston-or Hull, to be more precise. After that, I don’t know,” Conor said.
She bit her bottom lip, her gaze dropping to her coffee mug. “If he found me at the beach house, then he’s going to find me no matter where we go.”
“I won’t let that happen.”
She drew a ragged breath. “As soon as we get back to Boston, I have to stop at my apartment. I don’t have any clothes. We left everything at the beach house. And there’s something else I need to get.”
Conor shook his head. “No, we can’t. It would be too dangerous. We’ll buy you new clothes.”
“Please,” Olivia pleaded. “I’ve got nothing. My shop is closed, my apartment is deserted, I haven’t slept in my own bed in days. I just want some things around me that are mine.”
He didn’t want to listen to her pleas. In truth, he was scared he’d give in. It was hard to refuse Olivia anything, especially when he saw the vulnerability in her eyes. All he wanted to do was protect her, but sometimes his instincts as a man were in direct conflict with his instincts as a cop. “I said no.” With that, Conor turned and walked to the companionway. “If you need me, I’ll be up on the bridge.”
Conor cursed softly as he climbed the ladder back to the pilothouse. Dylan and Brendan both turned as he stepped inside, watching him with perceptive eyes. There were no secrets between the Quinn brothers. “So, what’s going on with you two?” Dylan asked.
Conor shrugged. “Nothing. She’s just a witness.”
Brendan chuckled. “Give me a break, Con. We see the way you look at her, the way you hover. When was the last time you ever treated a woman like that?”
“Never,” Dylan answered. “He treats her as if she’s made of gold. Did you see that, Bren? Like gold.”
“It’s part of the job,” Conor said. “If I don’t keep her happy, she doesn’t testify. Or worse yet, she runs off and gets herself killed and I get my ass booted out of the department for dereliction of duty.”
“He’s fallen for her,” Dylan commented. “But he’s deluding himself. Lying in lavender like Paddy’s pig, he is!”
Conor forced a chuckle. Dylan might be quick to jump to conclusions, but he was dead wrong. The last thing he’d allow himself to do was fall for Olivia Farrell. Sure, he might be attracted to her. What man wouldn’t be? She was a beautiful woman. But that was where it ended. “You forget. I was raised on the same stories that you were. I know what happens if a Quinn falls in love. Hell, I might as well just throw myself off a cliff and save everyone the trouble.”
His brothers stared out at the horizon, remembering the tales of their childhood as clearly as Conor did. “I’m amazed we’re not all psychologically scarred,” Dylan muttered.
Brendan sighed. “Maybe we are. I don’t see any of us in real relationships. Something permanent. Something that lasts longer than a month. Six decent-looking guys, good jobs, straight teeth. What are the odds?”
In truth, Conor had wondered the very same thing. He couldn’t deny that their father’s attitude had something to do with his own approach to women. He remembered all the stories. He also remembered his mother and the pain he’d felt when she’d left.
Olivia Farrell could make him feel that pain again. She had that power. But he’d never let it happen. He wasn’t going to fall for her, because as soon as they got to shore, he was going to call the station and get himself reassigned. Olivia Farrell wouldn’t have the chance to bring this Quinn down.
OLIVIA WASN’T SURE where she was when she opened her eyes. She only knew that she was warm and that she’d slept soundly for the first time in days. Tugging the rough wool blanket up around her nose, she sighed softly. She didn’t know where she was, but she somehow sensed that she was safe.
“Mornin’.”
Startled by the sound of an unfamiliar voice, Olivia bolted upright. But the unfamiliar voice came with a familiar face. A strikingly handsome man, with the same dark hair and hazel eyes as Conor, sat at the small table in the galley, a newspaper spread in front of him. Her brow furrowed as she tried to recall his name.
“Brendan,” he said, as if he could read her mind.
“Brendan,” she repeated. Raking her hands through her tangled hair, she glanced around the cabin. “Where are we?”
“Hull,” he said. “We put in about four or five hours ago.”
She glanced at the brass clock above Brendan’s head. It was nearly two in the afternoon. “Where’s Conor?”
“He went out to find you a safe place to stay.”
“And the other one, your brother?”
“Dylan? He went to pick up some groceries.”
Olivia sighed. “And you were the one who drew the short straw and got to baby-sit me?” she asked, a hint of sarcasm creeping into her voice.
“As my da used to say, a wise head keeps a shut mouth.” Brendan chuckled softly. “Or something to that effect.”
Though the pressures of the past few days had dulled her instincts, Olivia could have sworn Brendan Quinn had just paid her a compliment. “At least someone wants to spend time with me. Your brother acts like he’s been forced to take his pimply-faced cousin to the prom.”
Brendan slid out from behind the table and rummaged through the galley until he found a coffee mug. “My brother takes his responsibilities seriously. Sometimes too seriously.”
The offhand comment piqued Olivia’s curiosity. She knew so little about the man who’d taken control of her life. Perhaps she could learn something from Brendan that might even the odds a bit. When Brendan handed her a mug of steaming coffee, she sat up, tucked her feet beneath her, and rearranged the blanket on her lap. “Tell me about him,” she said. “Why is he always so grumpy?”
“Would you like some breakfast?” Brendan countered, avoiding her question altogether. “I can whip up some eggs and I think I have some bacon that hasn’t gone bad. Dylan’s bringing orange juice and when Conor gets here we can send him out for-”
“Conor is here.”
Brendan and Olivia glanced up at the companionway to find Conor looming above them. He swung down the steps and stood in the middle of the cabin. Compared to Brendan’s cheerful disposition, Conor seemed to suck every ounce of sunshine out of the room. Olivia raised her guard, ready to defend herself against Conor’s bristling mood. “Brendan was just going to make us some breakfast,” she said.
“I’m sure he was,” Conor muttered, sending his brother a pointed look. “When it comes to the ladies, it’s what he does best.”
“Hey,” Brendan protested, “I was just being-”
Conor held up his hand to interrupt Brendan, then turned to Olivia. “Come on. We have to go. I found a place for us to hole up for a while. Get your things and let’s go.”
“Things? I don’t have any things.”
Conor crossed the cabin in a few short steps then grabbed her arm and tugged her to her feet. “Good. Then we won’t have to wait around while you put on your lipstick and curl your hair.”
Brendan cursed beneath his breath. “You are a charmer, now, aren’t you, Con. It’s no wonder you have women fightin’ over you.”
This time the look Conor shot his brother was pure murder. Olivia decided it was probably best to go along with the plan, before the brothers came to blows over her need for breakfast. She smoothed her hair, then stepped up to Brendan, giving him a grateful smile. “Thank you for your hospitality, and for helping to rescue me.”
Conor’s brother returned her smile with a devilish one of his own. Then he gently took her hand and drew it to his mouth, placing a kiss on the tips of her fingers. “The pleasure was all mine.”
Conor growled impatiently, then snatched Olivia’s fingers from Brendan’s hand. “Brendan is also known for his kiss-offs. He disguises his motives so cleverly that the women actually feel good about being dumped.” With that, Conor pulled Olivia along to the companionway then hurried her up the steps.
When they reached the deck she turned on him, yanking her arm from his grasp. “You can stop bullying me
