She was falling.
He caught the edge of the chair and righted it before she hit the ground. Then he was across the room, away from her scent and the seductive draw of her skin. What he couldn’t escape was the shock in her eyes, the flush of need on her skin. The red line of bites down her neck. He’d put those there. On Lyse, the woman who’d tried to kill him. The woman whose betrayal had torn him apart for months.
The woman who was threatening his mam’s safety.
What kind of fecked-up man was he now?
He scrubbed a hand over his mouth. “Lyse, I—”
A rapid series of knocks sounded on the door, followed by a deep voice. “Lyse, you al’right? I’m after bringing you some soup, love.”
Shit. Neighbor Boy was back.
Chapter Five
She’d known he’d be angry. She’d also known he’d taste good. She’s been right about both.
For a moment Fionn had forgotten the anger. Or maybe he hadn’t; maybe he’d simply found a new way to torture her. Except she’d been the one to kiss him. At the time she’d figured she had nothing to lose—Fionn had looked like he was ready to kill her; why not have the one thing she so desperately wanted before she died?
At least her life wouldn’t end without a kiss.
Another knock rumbled the door. “Lyse?”
Sean would come in if she didn’t answer. Harry, their landlord, had an extra key. She glanced at Fionn. Would he hurt them?
No, she didn’t think so. He was only here to hurt her.
Green eyes still smoky with lust met hers. Before the memory of his touch could drown her again, she mouthed, Let me answer.
His eyes narrowed on her.
Please.
He stalked toward her, reaching for something on his belt. Her heartbeat tripped over itself when he flicked open a folding knife. Time slowed as he bent over her, his hands moving to her bound wrists, his mouth brushing her ear. “Play this right and no one gets hurt.”
Resentment spiked. The people she cared about had been threatened before, by Mansa. Do what we tell you and your Irishman will stay alive just as we promised. Look what agreeing to that bargain had gotten her.
But she would agree, one hundred percent. Anything to keep Sean out of this mess.
She squeezed her eyes shut as Fionn’s body brushed against hers, his warmth caressing her. The man had a knife, for goodness’ sake. Why was she struggling not to arch closer?
“I’ll be careful,” she whispered.
The zip ties yielded to his blade. When he sat back, the look in his eyes said her reassurance wasn’t worth trusting any more than the person who’d uttered it, but he released her legs anyway. A flick of the knife urged her toward the door. She tugged off her jacket and tossed it onto the couch as she crossed the room, not wanting Sean to be suspicious. Fionn positioned himself behind the solid slab of wood, the tip of his blade gleaming in the low light of a nearby lamp.
She gulped in a breath and opened the door.
Sean stared down at her, concern pinching his brow. A square container waited in his hand. “There she is. I was beginning to think you’d gone to bed and weren’t wanting me to see your panties,” he teased.
Despite the strain buzzing through her body, she chuckled. Trust Sean to lighten moods he wasn’t even aware of. “I think you have more experience with boxers than panties.”
He laughed. “Sure I do.” The concern returned to his eyes. “You’re not looking all right.”
“No.” She gave him a tired smile. “Definitely coming down with something.”
Sean stepped forward. “Let’s get you settled then.”
She put up a hand. Under no circumstances could she let him into the apartment. “And get you and your man sick? No way.”
“I never get sick. I’m disgustingly healthy, Cathal says.”
Of course he was. All the men in her life seemed to have superhuman genes. They really should stick to the movies and stop making the rest of the human race feel inadequate. “I’m not risking it, so back up.” She eyed the container. “Is that for me?”
“Chicken noodle.” He grinned boyishly.
She leaned against the doorjamb, trying to project fatigue when every muscle in her body was tight with tension. “You didn’t have time to cook that.”
“I did. Bella was at the restaurant. She helped me throw it together.”
Bella, the night manager at Sean’s restaurant. “Well thank her for me tomorrow.” She reached for the soup.
Sean hesitated. “Are you sure you don’t need help?”
Her throat tightened with emotion. “You’ve helped me more than you know, Sean,” she said, cradling the container to her belly. “Now go take care of Cathal.”
He winked. “I will. You rest.”
Highly unlikely, but…
“See you in the morning, love.” He waved as he descended her steps. She watched until he was in front of his unit, then closed her door reluctantly. After flicking the lock, she turned to Fionn.
His eyes glittered in the dim light, matching the glint off his knife. Lyse sucked in a deep breath. It was time to explain exactly why she’d brought him here. She moved toward the kitchen. “We need to talk. Want some soup?”
“No talking.” Fionn was right on her tail. “I’m getting you on a plane and taking you back to Global First.”
“We’re not going anywhere.”
“And who’s goin’ to stop me?” he growled behind her.
“Santo Ferrina.”
She sensed more than saw him go still. Her stomach was in knots and the last thing she wanted was food, but she pulled a couple of bowls from the cabinet anyway. The aroma of roasted chicken and savory broth filled her nose when she opened Sean’s container.
She was pouring the soup when Fionn’s body hit her, pinning her to the counter. Hot liquid splashed over her hand.
“Ferrina is dead.”
The burn
