“Excuse me,” Declan said, then stood. “I’ll be right back.”
After he headed to the loo—even a private plane had a tiny toilet—Justin slid in beside her and turned to face her. He reached up and, with two fingers under her chin, gazed into her eyes. “I’d go the ends of the earth for you, Moira. I will do anything I can to keep you safe.”
With a gulp of apprehension at his words, she witnessed desire flaming within them. Where had that come from? He’d never looked at her like he wanted her. Okay, maybe he had and, had once, entertained it, but lately, she hadn’t paid his looks much attention. She couldn’t deal with this now.
“If I’ll be technically dead—” That brought another gulp. This time with nervousness. “—then why do I have to leave Ireland? Can’t I just move to another town far away?” She’d never been outside her country and didn’t wish to do it now. Traveling within Ireland appealed to her, but not imeacht thar sáile. She’d never been abroad.
Justin pulled back and chuckled. He shook his head. “No arguments, you’ll go.” Clasping her hand, he squeezed but didn’t let it go. He held it like they were lovers and she didn’t let go either. His strength comforted her.
“How will it work? I’ll be a third wheel with my brother and Diana.”
“Hmm.” Grimacing, he said, “You could live with Danny.”
Shocked at the suggestion he’d pawn her off on his baby brother, she pulled her hand from his and gasped. “I’m not living with a man I don’t know.”
“You know Danny.”
She narrowed her gaze at the guarded tone in his voice. Why didn’t he seem comfortable with that? With her staying with his brother? Was he jealous? Moira appraised him with the same eye she had after seeing him again after so long away. The man was sex personified. He’d always been the more traditionally handsome one of the brothers. Though, she’d always appreciated Danny’s more subtle ruggedness. It probably had more to do with Justin’s attention to her.
Fighting the urge to run her hands through Justin’s short, dark blond hair, she reached up and ran a hand through her auburn locks instead. Grasping the hair tie on her wrist, she pulled the annoyingly straight hair back in a ponytail that extended to mid-shoulder. What she wouldn’t give for some natural wave. At least it didn’t have as much red in it as her brother’s did. He personified the traditional Irish look of flaming red hair and green eyes.
“Declan made all the arrangements.”
That surprised her. Somehow, she assumed Justin had been in control of this relocation. “Not you?”
“No.” His jaw remained clenched, and she’d barely understood the words. “I don’t think he trusted me in the beginning.”
She’d noticed that rift between them. Thankfully, they’d reached a truce so Justin was helping them escape instead of actually killing them. Her mind spun again as to whether he actually would’ve done it. She’d seen him fight. He’d practically killed a man who’d grabbed Diana when under his watch. And, she’d overheard things that she probably shouldn’t have that made her shudder. Aye, she believed he had a vicious streak in him.
Keeping her focus back on their plight, she shifted. “I’m worried about how I’ll live, financially. I have some money saved, but I’m an ealaíontóir. I have a name that was building steam. I’m not comfortable using that fake passport to get a job. I don’t want to get arrested.”
“Just stay low-key. You can still be an artist. You’ll just need to choose another name to sign your artwork. Declan has a checking account set up for you.”
Her spine straightened. What? More preparation without her knowledge.
“Catch yourself on,” her brother said as he approached.
What did he mean telling her not to be ridiculous? She had valid concerns.
“It’s from the money our parents left us. You’ll receive your share when you turn thirty, but I think given the circumstances, they wouldn’t mind if I fronted some of it now.”
Diana’s cry of pain broke through the air as she woke. “Declan,” she cried. “The baby.” She doubled-up into the fetal position with her arms protecting her stomach. “Something’s wrong.”
In an instant, her brother was on his knees in front of Diana. “What is it?” His panicked voice evoked fear in Moira. Diana couldn’t have problems with the baby. They were in the air. Over an ocean.
“Oohhh.” The pain-filled moan brought over the male flight attendant, who’d been quietly reading a book as far from them as possible in the small cabin.
When Moira had questioned speaking with the man in the area, Justin had waved her off. “First, he’s trained to ignore what is said or to keep quiet what he has heard. Second, he’s a friend of mine, so he won’t breathe a word.”
With all the talk of Boyle finding them—and possibly torturing her to get to Diana—she didn’t want to trust anyone.
The flight attendant, Stu, furrowed his brow while watching Diana. “Justin?”
Instead of responding to Stu, Justin directed his comment to her brother. “Declan, Stu has some medical training. Let him see her.” Then he turned to Moira and extended his hand. “Let’s give them some room.”
Naw. She didn’t want to leave. Her brother looked wretched, like he had when they’d lost their parents. Family stood with family.
Her hesitation must’ve resonated with her brother. He looked at her and nodded toward Justin. “Go on. I’m sure it’s fine.” Then his attention returned to Diana and her whimpering.
Moira allowed herself to be led away by Justin, although she kept her gaze on her brother. Nothing could happen to the baby. Not after what Declan and Diana had gone through to be together.
Turning on Justin, she whispered, “Why are you doing this?”
‘This’ was generic for many things, but Justin picked up on her overall meaning. He cleared his throat. “Your family is like a second family to me. If it’s in my power, I’ll
