True. He hadn’t brought a hat with his gear, but rummaging in the apartment closets, Lyse found a newsboy cap and a pair of reading glasses. Fionn put them on, knowing that covering the distinct color of his hair was half the battle to concealing his identity. He hefted his backpack and turned to see Lyse collecting her keys from the kitchen table.
“You won’t be needin’ those,” he warned her. “We’re not returning here.” He’d be getting her and his mam on a plane to the States as soon as possible.
Lyse frowned. “Like hell.”
“Hell is what you’ll experience when we get back to Global First.”
She stared him down, defiance glaring back at him as she slipped the keys into the pocket of her jumper before buttoning it up. He didn’t argue further. She could try to defy him, but it wouldn’t stop him.
He led the way out of the unit, careful to check for company before stepping onto the small patio. Lyse closed the door behind her, and he grasped her wrist, wanting her close to his side. She muttered a curse as he dragged her down the steps.
“You know, hauling me around isn’t going to help if you want cover.”
“Oh? And what would help? Holding your hand like a lover?”
“Yes,” she said, her tone telling him she’d rather kick him in the balls. She had a point, though he didn’t want to be admitting it. Or maybe he just didn’t want to be holdin’ her hand; it was too intimate, too vulnerable. Cuffing her to him gave him distance. His prisoner, nothing more.
Was he really that afraid of a traitor, a wee one at that?
He eased his grip and slid his hand down until his fingers tangled with hers. Their palms pressed together. Lyse shot him a surprised look, then focused ahead again. No smart-arse I told you so. She seemed to delight in doing what he least expected.
The difference between the Lyse he’d known for the past four years and this Lyse threw him off balance. The old Lyse hadn’t the backbone of this one, wouldn’t have been one to argue with him, much less kiss him. She’d been timid, blushing and stumbling over her words whenever he was near. The new Lyse was more self-contained, less fearful—she fought back. And God, that kiss—
He shook off the memory, his lips tightening. The old Lyse had been a lie; he knew that now. The hero worship he’d soaked up hadn’t been real. Now, here, he felt more like he’d peeled back her layers and found the harder core of her. She might still be betraying him, probably was betraying him, but at least she wasn’t playacting anymore.
That this new Lyse got him a helluva lot harder than the old one was something he’d really rather not be thinking about. Ever.
It was half eight, not so late in the evening that the streets were empty, but few people lingered at this time on a weeknight. His mam’s cottage was a ten-minute walk from Lyse’s apartment. They circled around to approach from the north, on the opposite side from their new friend. Fionn kept his face down and turned toward Lyse as if they were sharing an intimate conversation as they entered the path at the front of the house and walked up to the door. Lyse stiffened at his side, reminding him that she was used to being behind a computer screen, not in the field where the enemy was a physical, threatening presence, not a shadow of pixels that couldn’t touch you, hurt you. He tightened his fingers on hers, whether to keep her from escaping or to reassure her, he refused to think about.
At the front door he raised his hand and knocked. Only when the knob turned did it fully strike him that he was about to be seeing his mam for the first time in years. He would be face-to-face with the woman he’d given up his life for, the only person in the world who knew him inside and out. She was here, now, on the other side of this door. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but his throat closed up, his heartbeat thumping hard in his ears as the door opened and a shaft of light fell across them.
“Lyse, dear! I wasn’t expecting you till the weekend. Come in.”
She wasn’t looking directly at him. Waiting, he soaked in the sight of her—the thick auburn hair she’d passed on to him, clear blue eyes with the faintest lines around them. She was in her midfifties now but could easily pass for a decade younger, still lithe and vibrating with energy just as she had when he was younger. Christ, she was a beautiful sight.
Lyse moved inside, their entwined hands pulling him with her. Emotion welled in his chest until he wasn’t sure he could speak without tears.
“Who’s your young man, then?” his mam was asking.
He was after keeping his face turned away from the door until it closed, not wanting Ferrina’s man to catch a good glimpse, but now he tugged off the cap and glasses and allowed his mam a straight-on look.
“Fionn!”
Her shout of surprise echoed in his ears seconds before her arms circled his throat. The scent of vanilla and spice filled his nose, that same as he remembered from his childhood. It was warmth and adventure and love wrapped in a lungful of air, and he took another one, wanting to saturate himself with it, wanting the reality that his mam was in his arms after so long apart to truly sink in.
“Mam.”
Her grip was tight, almost choking, but he wasn’t protestin’, not when he felt the wet warmth of tears on his neck. His arms around her were just as tight. They held on for long moments, and it wasn’t until Lyse began removing her coat beside them that the reality of why he was here resurfaced. Gently he eased back to meet
