But there was nothing to be thinking about. If Sheppard was in the same town as his mam, it was for a reason. Just one more strike against her.
He’d tear her apart before he’d let her harm his family.
He was rushing down the hall with his next breath. He had a plane to catch—and then he’d catch a traitor.
Chapter Three
A gentle breeze blew across Lyse’s cheeks, and she closed her eyes, resting her head back against the brick wall. The chatter around her, the evening gathering at the local pub, The Hairy Lemon, fell away as she focused on the touch caressing her hot face. There was something different about the air in Ireland, something soft, clean. If green had a feeling, this was it—there was no other way to describe how it touched her skin, filled her lungs. Good. Pure.
Would this be the last time she felt a breeze like this? Would this be the last evening she spent on the Lemon’s patio, drinking with her friends?
“What’s the story, Lyse?” Sean settled in the chair next to her and passed over the Orchard Thieves she’d requested from the bar. Usually she’d go with him, if only for the pleasure of hearing him pronounce the word teeves. If the air in Ireland was soft, the language often matched, but the th sound in words was often pronounced with a hard t. Deciphering speech was one of many things she’d had to learn when she came. Like names. She glanced up as Sean’s boyfriend, Cathal, sat next to him.
“Hey, Cathal.”
Irish for Charlie, Cathal’s name was pronounced Kay-hul. That one had taken a while to get used to. Sometimes she’d felt like she needed to write people’s names down and practice so she didn’t stumble over them all the time.
“Sean’s right; you’re lookin’ knackered.”
She shook her head, took a sip of the cool hard cider before setting it on the wrought-iron table. “Rough night.”
Sean frowned. “You were saying that yesterday. Coming down with something?”
No, but something will be coming down on me soon. “Maybe.”
Anytime now, she figured. Fionn had gotten on a plane late last night Ireland time, midafternoon in the States. He was here, on his home soil; she didn’t need computer records to tell her that. She could feel it. She should walk home, pack—not that he’d let her take anything with her when she left. Even revealing the threat to his mother would earn her nothing more than a short reprieve, if she was lucky.
She usually wasn’t. There was always the chance that he’d simply snap her neck and be done with it. In the glimpse she’d caught of him at the airport before he’d boarded, he certainly looked grim enough.
She’d stopped watching after that. Hell was coming for her, and everything inside her shouted to run, get away, save herself. There was no saving herself; she’d known that when she tipped him off. The only weapon she possessed was her brain, and that wouldn’t help her against a man as angry as Fionn.
She shivered in her chair.
“Now I’m getting bothered,” Sean said, leaning toward her. His cool hand landed on her forehead. “You’re no’ feeling warm. Maybe I’m needing to feed ya—chicken noodle soup, yeah? That’s what strengthens you up in America.”
Leave it to the chef to feed her. “I’m fine, Sean, really.”
He slid his hand down, the backs of his fingers resting against her cheek as he frowned. “You’re not all right, Lyse.”
No, she wasn’t. Unable to resist, she reached up and took his hand. The truth was, she was scared. She’d faced charming Fionn and serious Fionn, but the man coming for her wouldn’t be charming and would go way past serious. In her head she knew she deserved anything he chose to do to her, but her body couldn’t get with the program.
She squeezed his hand tight, then dropped it to reach for her cider. “If you knew it was your last day on Earth”—or your last day free—“where would you spend it?”
Sean’s worry turned to amusement as he glanced at his boyfriend. He really was beautiful to look at, with that raven-black hair and half grin. Almost as beautiful as—
“Getting the shift.” He winked at Cathal.
As if she’d even needed to ask. Of course he’d be in bed with his boyfriend.
“Smart man,” Cathal said, his smile full of promise. With his thick brown hair and dark eyes, he was equally as handsome as Sean. Ireland had its share of gorgeous men; that was for sure.
“Well, that’s no help for me,” she teased. “Y’all aren’t into girls.”
Sean chuckled. “There are plenty o’ men in Quigley who’d be happy to take you for a ride.”
He said it often, which was why she doubted it. Oh, it was a nice thought, but she knew better. She wasn’t the type to draw men’s attention. A virgin at twenty-four. Not just a virgin—she’d never experienced the touch of a man besides a few fumbling kisses in fourth grade. Hardy…what had his last name been? The thought of him actually kept the smile on her lips. Hardy had been before she was taken out of public school. Before her brain had been indulged and her desperation to prove she was worthy had truly taken flight. Before she’d passed eight grades and four years of college in seven years and became the youngest computer genius formally on the government’s payroll at the age of sixteen.
If the stereotype of male computer nerds were that they died virgins, her experience as a female nerd wasn’t that far off. She hadn’t cared, not when Fionn was a part of her life. The only man she’d wanted touching her.
That dream had died a painfully agonizing death two months ago. Or so she’d thought. But now, as much as her heart beat in her throat with fear, there was a small part of her that welcomed his hands on her any way she could get them.
She shook her head at her own
