She hurried to follow Siobhan into her bedroom.
Chapter Eight
Mack lived a few miles out from the village, far enough that forests and the sounds of nature took the place of streetlamps and car engines. The cottage was gray stone, surrounded by woods and the sharp rise of a hill at the back, but the land directly around the house was cleared and well lit. Fionn hoped that meant the man was after having a sensible security system as well.
He took the flank as the four of them entered the house. “Sorry it’s dark,” Mack said. “Been at the station all day. Fionn, stay with them while I do a sweep, yeah?”
“I’ll stay.”
Siobhan moved into the living room to close curtains. The house was bigger than Fionn had been expecting from the outside, but then, Mack was a big man. If he was anything like Fionn, he felt a bit claustrophobic in the typical Irish cottage.
His mam walked over as Mack returned to the living area, walking straight into the man’s arms. Watching them kiss sent a strange unease through him. It wasn’t terribly intimate, a mere brush of mouths between lovers, but Fionn had spent so many years with the memories of his parents together playin’ through his head—probably more so than most, searching for the clues to his father’s choices that he never found. Seeing his mam in another man’s arms…it would take some getting used to. His parents had been together since Siobhan was nineteen, and though Robert hadn’t been the man Fionn had thought he was, he had truly loved his wife. Fionn wasn’t juvenile enough to think she would be alone the rest of her life, but Mack was a totally different kind of man. One that obviously made his mam happy if the smile she gave him was anything to go by.
“The master is upstairs,” Mack said, indicating the staircase next to the hall. “We’ll be there.” He paused as if waiting for Fionn to argue, smiling when it didn’t happen. “There’s a fold-out in the den and a guest room down that hall. You can take one and Lyse the other.”
That, he would be protesting. “We’ll both be in the guest room.”
Three expressions of surprise—Mack’s arched brow, his mam’s open mouth, and the color leaching from Lyse’s face—all met his announcement, but he refused to back down. Lyse was good at running, and he would not be taking that chance. Ignoring the reaction, he jerked his chin toward the panel next to the front door. “Walk me through the security system, yeah?”
“How about some tea?” Siobhan asked. When he glanced her way, she was ushering Lyse toward the kitchen, leaving the men behind. Mack showed him how to work the system, then walked him through the house.
“I’ll walk the perimeter outside,” Fionn said when they returned to the front door. Though they had a clear view of anyone trying to approach the house—a fact Fionn hardily approved—he was wanting to be familiar with the terrain if anything occurred during the night. The air was fierce cold as he canvassed, but he took his time despite the temperature. As he moved around the side and into the backyard, he watched his mam talk to Lyse across the dining table before Mack moved into the kitchen to close the curtains. The women seemed intent, but Lyse’s mouth was firmly closed. Not wanting his mam to know the truth, perhaps. She was needing to know, though, and he’d be certain she did.
Back inside, he re-armed the security system, retrieved his pack, and headed for the guest room. Before he could reach the door, his mam called to him. Pivoting, he stopped and waited for her.
Siobhan’s face showed the strain of confusion. “I’m wanting to know what’s going on with Lyse.”
A flicker of the anger he had carried for two months sparked in his chest. “A couple of months ago she set a bomb in our facility. When it went off, Deacon and I”—and Lyse—“were too close to avoid a singein’.”
Siobhan shook her head, her eyes wide. “Why would she do that? It makes no sense, Fionn. The girl I know—”
“That’s just it—she’s not the girl you know. Not the woman I thought I knew. She cannot be trusted.”
“If that’s true,” his mam said, “tell me why she did it. Tell me so I can be understanding her.”
Fionn’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not caring why she did it. What I care about is that I can’t trust her, not with your life.”
“Fionn—”
He leaned down, absorbing her sweet scent as he hugged. Discussing this further would do no good, at least not tonight. “Good night, Mam.”
He turned to walk away, but her grip on his arm forced him to a halt. Or tried to, anyway. He looked down at Siobhan, burying his amusement at the thought.
His mam was deadly serious. “Don’t hurt her, Fionn. I don’t know what happened, but I can tell you are angry. Don’t do anything you’ll be regretting later.”
He had done a couple of things he’d been after regretting since he got here. When he was around Lyse, the anger took over his mind and overrode his control in ways he’d never allowed with another target, especially a woman. Looking into his mam’s eyes, the memories of those actions set off a hit of shame.
“I promise not to be hurting her,” he said.
Siobhan relaxed, and he wondered if she was truly thinking he would do something physical. He might not be the man who’d left Ireland a decade ago, but he hadn’t changed that much.
The memory of Lyse’s body forced between him and the cabinet, knowing he was grinding her against the counter in ways that would be painful, returned. He sighed and rubbed a hand
